The Harmful Stereotype of Queer Men as Predators: How Homophobia Perpetuates Dangerous Narratives

 

The recent online harassment I've faced from Curtis Stone and Derek Smith reveals a troubling pattern of attacks aimed at silencing queer voices. It all began when Curtis started insinuating that my identity as a "queer granddad" made me a danger to children, a baseless and harmful accusation. His comments quickly attracted Derek, who offered unsolicited "advice" suggesting I should hide my queerness to avoid backlash, essentially blaming me for the harassment I receive.

Derek Smith's "advice" was followed by a request that I debate him live on his YouTube channel and when I declined he said it proved his point that I just crave attention.

This type of rhetoric isn’t new. I’ve been advocating for queer rights for over 30 years, and I’ve encountered countless instances where people attempt to frame my visibility as the problem rather than their own intolerance. When I was a kid, I faced bullying for being different, and the response from authority figures was to either fight back physically or stay quiet. That “solution” never addressed the root issue, which is the prejudice itself. And today, the methods may have evolved, but the message remains the same: queer people should just stay out of sight if they don’t want to be attacked.

Derek's message illustrates a prevalent mindset that pretends to be "accepting" while setting clear boundaries on where and how queer people should exist. His suggestion that I stop “putting labels and flags on everything” dismisses the reality that visibility is often a matter of survival. Pride celebrations, flags, and public acknowledgment of our identities aren’t about seeking special privileges; they're about claiming our space in a society that has historically tried to erase us.

The vitriol escalated after Derek's comment, with over 50 additional attacks on me via X, all following the same tired script of questioning my character, calling me a "groomer" or "pedophile," and demanding I justify my queerness. These accusations reflect a disturbing trend of equating queer identity, particularly that of trans and non-binary people, with predatory behavior—a narrative that fuels hate and violence.

These attacks also connect to broader cultural battles like opposition to SOGI 123 in schools. The argument is that if we discuss sexual orientation and gender identity openly, we are somehow “recruiting” children to be queer or trans. This belief is deeply flawed and harmful. I grew up in a strictly controlled Christian environment with no exposure to queer culture, yet I am queer. Visibility doesn’t "create" queer people; it simply allows us to live more authentically.

The push to silence or hide queer people harms not just adults but youth, who need to see representation to feel validated and safe. Those against SOGI 123 and other inclusive policies fail to realize that every child deserves to feel like they belong. And it's not just queer youth who benefit from these policies; straight and cisgender students often face bullying for simply being perceived as different.

In the face of Derek's comments and Curtis's ongoing campaign of harassment, I refuse to back down. Their attempts to police my identity and discourage my advocacy only strengthen my resolve to continue fighting for a world where all queer people can live without fear of being targeted. I will not let those who seek to diminish our visibility succeed, regardless of how "big" they perceive their platform to be. The fight for our rights is far from over, and I intend to keep showing up—loud, proud, and unafraid.

Visibility isn't about "cramming it down your throat"; it’s about saying, "We are here, and we will not be erased." For every Derek and Curtis out there, there are countless queer people who need to know they are not alone, and I won’t stop advocating for them.