Andrew Wheeler wrote something wonderful about how friends of LGBT people ought to respond if they come out to them.  I present it here in its entirety:

 

I’ve found myself thinking about this very old essay by Andrew Wheeler on homosexuality and comics a bunch recently. Mainly about how grateful I am that he was writing about this stuff when I was just getting into comics (both as a reader and soon a writer). I’m enormously grateful for his perspective.  (via kierongillen)

Oh blummy. Always alarming to come on to Tumblr and see activity and think, “but I didn’t do anything yesterday”. What old thing just got dragged up, and is anyone going to yell at me?

And it turns out the old thing is almost 15 years old, which is shocking for all kinds of reasons – I’ve been windbagging on the internet for 15 years? More than 15 years? – but no-one seems to be yelling at me and actually it’s a nice thing. Kieron is a nice person. I’m very touched that he credits me with having any influence on him at all, because Kieron writes some of the best and most honest queer and progressive characters and stories in comics today, and I think that all comes from him. He believes in inclusion and diversity and individual expression, and that’s his nature.

I’m relieved to say I can stand by most of what I wrote 14 years ago. Some of it feels clumsy. I could have been a little easier on Warren Ellis. I shouldn’t have pounded the Boy George drum so heavily. In those days it was very easy to be dismissive or angry about the presentation of gay men as camp or fey or flamboyant because it was all we had, and it was genuinely damaging to be so constrained by stereotype.

But our acceptance of our gay identities must include camp and fey and flamboyant. We cannot push those aspects of ourselves away. My totality of self includes the capacity for both Boy George and Superman.

I’m also relieved to say that we’ve seen progress in the 14 years since I wrote this. At that time, Midnighter and Apollo had not been shown to be gay on the page. They were only Dumbledore-gay. There was no Kate Kane Batwoman. There were no gay X-Men. There was no Hulkling or Wiccan.

As I’ve written elsewhere, I still worry about how all of these things could go away in a blink, but I appreciate that a lot has changed in superhero comics because of creators like Kieron Gillen, Jamie McKelvie, Warren Ellis, Bryan Hitch, Greg Rucka, JH Williams III, Michael Lark, Marjorie Liu, Allan Heinberg, Jim Cheung, Peter David, Brian K Vaughan, Nunzio DeFilippis, Christina Weir, Grant Morrison, Gail Simone, Peter Milligan.

(I’m surely forgetting a lot of people. Also, when you look at the pantheon of LGBT characters, it seems clear that Greg Rucka and Peter David should each be name-checked at least twice for their enduring commitment to representation.)

I’m grateful for how much has changed. But my point still stands. The correct response when someone comes out – whether it’s your friend, a fictional superhero, or Zachary Quinto – is not, “Who cares?” Insouciance doesn’t erase the pain. Glibness is not an antidote to hate.

You know what the antidote to hate is.

When someone comes out, they don’t need acceptance. They need love.