Anglo Adventure

Travel with a sense of humor


An open letter to the gay basher I met in Sin City


Dear Homophobe:

You would likely remember me as the girl at the craps table who kept accidentally bumping into you because you didn’t move over.

I remember you as the rude one who kept swishing her long, straggly black hair into me. You didn’t smile; you glared at me, like you owned the table.

You weren’t having a very good time.

Two women walked by behind you. The dealer pointed and said, “Oh my god, they’re holding hands,” like he saw a two-headed giant lumbering through the casino. We all turned. Two attractive older ladies blurred by, arm in arm, the way girls do when they’re just having fun.

You loudly exclaimed, “That’s nasty. God made Adam and Eve; not Eve and Eve.” No one laughed. The women just kept walking. I silently hoped they didn’t hear you. A few moments later, my friend and I grabbed our chips and left in a sort of stunned huff.

We could have been lesbians, what would you have done then? Would you have given us a speech about how we were ok and it was just the rest of the gays you were referring to? Would you have told us you thought we were perverts?

“I didn’t mean you…”

“Some gays are ok…”

I wanted to tell you that your joke is as stale as casino air.

I wanted to tell you about all the gay people I’ve gotten to know. Some are friends; some are family. They are all different.

Some put themselves out there on a regular basis; some are still in the closet because they face the most awful kind of rejection, rejection just for being different than the majority.

Imagine going to touch your partner on the arm and someone telling you you’re going to hell. That you weren’t created by God. Imagine everyone turning to stare at you from a craps table because you happened to link arms with someone of the same gender.

Imagine being kicked out of your house; imagine being torn away from your nieces or nephews. Imagine ridicule, torment, and abuse.

I am not gay and I cannot comment on what it’s like to be gay.

However, as a human, I easily recognize hurt. I wanted to tell you that ignore and ignorant are almost the same word. And that as you sit on your throne of moral superiority, you’re missing out on some fantastic people.

What, exactly were you doing in Sin City?

I would have said all of this. And C*, my friend to the left would have said it too. But it was well after midnight. I was not at my most articulate and you weren’t at your most receptive.

We wouldn’t have changed your opinion. You wouldn’t have accepted the challenge on your beliefs. And I’m pretty sure if we “threw down” you might win. Might.

We collected our chips and walked away. But while the unsaid still whirls freshly in my mind, I thought I’d write you a letter. To let you know that you’re the one who came across as nasty.



*Whenever I write about friends, I use their initials.


Author: HalmCreative

Provides out-of-the-box copy and travel writing that meets strict deadlines and resource restraints. Worked with T-Mobile, Fodor's Travel, Delta Sky Magazine, Today Is Art Day, Zoka Coffee, and others.

2 thoughts on “An open letter to the gay basher I met in Sin City

  1. Good post! Wish you had given her a smackdown!
    Love your photos!
    Frank (bbqboy)

    • Ha! It was one of those situations where I had no idea what to do. So I settled on passive-aggressively writing this blog.

      I can fight though. Just choose not to 😉 Glad you like my photos. I’m working on improving my photography.

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