Faggots Fight

By James H Kaster

The year 2020 is the 35th anniversary of the Gay Student Services vs. Texas A&M University case. As the court case played out in the ‘80s, it was a difficult period for LGBTQIA+ students on A&M’s campus and for students across all U.S. college campuses. We were denied recognition and support. It wasn’t easy off campus either. There was much discrimination in jobs, healthcare, police protection and housing. Then AIDS surfaced, forcing gays back into the closet. In today’s polarized political climate, it feels like the ‘80s all over again and hard-won freedoms are under increased attacks. Now is not a time to rest on our victories. We need to learn from our history and inspire today’s equality fight. In this book, I recall my time as a GSS chairperson and life as an out gay man on the Texas A&M campus. I also share my experiences of ‘80s life discussing activism, volunteering, AIDS, dating and just everyday surviving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781678156480

Book preview

Faggots Fight

Faggots Fight

Published by

James H. Kaster

Concord, NC

2020

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-1-67815-648-0

Copyright

© 2020 by James H. Kaster

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, scanning, downloading, screen captures, recording or any information retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Preface

Over the past couple of years, since the last presidential election cycle, it has felt like the ‘80s all over again. After decades of progress, I feel like I’m under attack, again, for being me. I decided that I needed to feel good about myself and to reconnect with my gay identity. I started watching gay-themed programming; something I haven’t done in years. Then I was inspired by a movie. During Pride month in 2018, I was watching various movies on Amazon Prime Video. (I appreciate their algorithms predicting what I might want to watch and making recommendations. In my case their recommendations are accurate.) One day, Amazon Prime Video suggests a 2014 U.K. movie called Pride. I watch the movie in complete awe. I normally multi-task when I watch anything. But not this time. The movie was too good to not pay full attention because I could relate to each scene and each line of dialog. Based on real events, the plot is about an event in the gay rights movement in England, in the mid-80s, and with an unlikely partnership of gay activists and coal miners. With my jaw dropped, I’m watching this movie and thinking, OMG, I had a similar life, but in Texas (and without the coal miners). This movie recalled many memories and stirred emotions. I hadn’t really talked about my experiences since the ‘80s. I cared and made a difference and yet I managed to keep it hidden. It was a really special time, albeit hard as hell. For me, my gay ‘80s was as much about activism as it was about everyday surviving.

I have to admit that I thought I was done. I thought I made enough sacrifices and contributions, having dedicated my ‘80s to gay rights advocacy, Pride and AIDS care. Of course, there was plenty of discrimination too; this is the surviving part. Altogether, it was intense and burning me out. I put my schooling on hold. I rarely dated. Again, it was hard as hell.

Today, due to the changing political climate (even with a gay man running for President) with hard-fought victories at risk, I find the need to resurface and be a voice, again, to equality. The timing coincides with the 35th anniversary of the Gay Student Services vs. Texas A&M University case, of which I was a steward. My stories are about the ‘80s, of being gay, out and an activist. These stories recall legal victories and personal growth. I’m not poetic. I’m not prone to artistic prose. I’m factual. These stories convey that even in the toughest conditions, like the ‘80s, you can be gay, out and Proud. You can be those things, today, and you can even be an activist, without in-your-face confrontations or being on the front line. I hope they inspire you to find your inner activist.

Introduction

I absolutely have to begin by saying that I’m not special. I’m certainly no icon. I’m one of many hundreds of thousands, probably millions, of LGBTQIA+ activists over the decades and across the world. It depends how you define activist and activism. If you marched in a Pride parade, that’s activism to me because it takes courage to be in a movement and a face in the crowd.

There are the activists that we think of as people who form and join groups for a cause. When I first came out and got involved, I thought every LGBTQIA+ person was an activist. The only other people like me, that I met, were in organized groups for support, equality and politics. I didn’t go to bars, baths or clandestine meeting places that so frequently seem to be associated with stories of gay culture. I didn’t even know about those places until many years after I came out. So, I thought every LGBTQIA+ person was like me and participated in cause-related groups. I thought every LGBTQIA+ person was an activist. I was wrong and I get it. It took me a while, but I eventually understood. Not every LGBTQIA+ person is an activist because not every LGBTQIA+ person comes out or cares to be involved, for many reasons; usually fear, sometimes finances and plenty of other valid justifications.

I have trouble with the activist label when it’s applied to me, because I didn’t feel like an activist. I was doing what I felt was right and what was just. I have a great capacity for caring and a profound sense of equality. Doing what’s right is subjective and based on our influences. My concept of right was shaped by my first school research project. It was a junior-high Social Studies class assignment to identify three people we admired. In hindsight, I wonder if my fellow classmates chose people they knew, like parents and relatives. For me, it was based on what I’ve read and studied up to that point. I picked Harriet Tubman, Eleanor Roosevelt and Robert Goddard. That’s two very courageous and strong women and a man who pioneered rockets (a phallic thing). It’s a gay cliché to admire strong women and phallic things, but yes, this first school report was probably an early indication I was gay. Why are gay men attracted to strong women? I wonder if my teacher picked up on that. This assignment taught me about valor and fighting for what’s right in the face of opposition. It is from education that I developed a sense of not only being but of reason, cause and action. I always thought my life as mundane and as I look back three decades, I find that I had moments of courage and brilliance that define my confidence, strength and resolve.

But, back to my point on the activist label. I really felt like a failure around the start of 1987. After six years of activism, I did a 180 and took a break and stopped participating in gay rights and AIDS care. I felt I wasn’t making a difference or at least not fast enough. Also, one just burns