The Closet is a scary place, filled with gremlins and goblins and things that go bump in the night. I lived there until I was 44. Or maybe I didn’t.
Maybe it’s all a matter of point of view.
Recently I have been expressing my displeasure about people talking about “self-loathing, in the closet gays.” Sure, they have couched it in terms of Republicans, but political party doesn’t change the adjectives which have been used. They still hurt.
They still have displayed how much little understanding there is of people who are different in fundamental ways from others.
So do the gay jokes. Or rather, the anti-gay jokes. My ears don’t hear any difference.