Are you really tolerant? This simple test will show if your "opinion" is not really a hidden homophobia
German football referee Pascal Kaiser recently proposed to his partner right in the stadium in Cologne. Footage of the touching moment has been circulating on social media, with applause and support. But a few days later, Kaiser was attacked outside his own home. This was preceded by threats and the publication of his address. He said the attack was for one reason - the public display of love between two men.
This example is extreme. But extremes don't happen in a vacuum. They are born in an environment where questioning queer people has long been tolerated, downplayed, or disguised as "normal opinion." And this is where the uncomfortable question begins: are you a homophobe by any chance?
Not one who would attack anyone. But one who occasionally utters a phrase that sounds innocent - and yet hurts.
"I have nothing against gays, but..."
Perhaps the most common phrase that foreshadows a problem. It formally declares tolerance, but immediately relativizes it.
"I have nothing against gays, but why do they have to expose it?"
"I have nothing against gays, but why force it on children?"
"I have nothing against gays, but marriage is for a man and a woman."
That little "but" is key. It means you accept the existence of queer people only on the condition of invisibility. In other words, be, but don't be too audible. Love, but not in public. Exist, but without claims to equality.
It's just that heterosexuality is "on display" every day - in commercials, TV shows, family reunions, billboards, and everyday displays of affection on the street. If you don't mind a man and woman kissing on a bench, but are unnerved by two men holding hands, the problem is not the level of expression. It's who's doing the showing.
"Why do they have to shove it everywhere?"
Visibility tends to be described as provocation. Pride marches are "unnecessary", rainbow campaigns "excessive" and celebrity coming outs "marketing" according to some.
But visibility is a response to a history in which homosexuality has been punished, stigmatized and pathologized. As recently as the 20th century, it was considered a criminal offence or a mental disorder in many countries. Queer people were forced to live a double life, to hide relationships and keep silent. In some countries this is still the case today.
For centuries, public space was reserved for a single norm. As soon as someone else enters it, part of society reads it as a disruption of order. Not as an extension of reality, but as an attack on one's own identity.
So the question is not why queer people are "seen". It's why their visibility still makes some people uncomfortable.
"They have everything these days. So what else do they want?"
The "excessive demands" argument comes up regularly. But equality on paper does not mean equality in everyday life.
Many LGBTQ+ people still consider whether to mention a partner at work. They wonder whether to hold hands on the street. In some regions, coming out is associated with the risk of rejection by family or bullying. This is not a theory, but the experience of thousands of people.
Rights are not a one-off package that is handed over and that is the end of it. They are a process. Once society stops actively resisting discrimination, old stereotypes start to return - often in a more modern, slicker package.
"That's just my opinion"
This sentence sounds like a defense of free speech. And freedom of speech is a fundamental value. But even opinions have consequences.
If one repeatedly hears that one's relationship is "inferior," that one's family is "abnormal," or that one's identity is an "ideology," this is not an academic debate, but a questioning of one's dignity.
Homophobia today often does not look like open hatred. It takes the form of irony, belittling, "jokes" or political slogans about a return to traditional values. It is not dramatic. But it is all the more resilient for it.
How did homophobia come about?
Historically, heterosexuality has been presented as the only natural model. Religious interpretations, legal norms and medical theories have long reinforced the idea that any deviation is a sin, a crime or a disease.
Such frameworks have shaped generations. Prejudices are inherited subtly - in language, in family jokes, in the idea of the "right" man and the "right" woman.
Modern society is changing rapidly. Gender roles are less rigid, families take different forms and identity is no longer one-dimensional. For some people, this is liberating. For another part, it is disturbing. And fear of change can turn into resentment towards those who symbolise that change.
Silent homophobia: when we remain silent
Homophobia is not just an active attack. It is also silence when someone utters an insult. It is laughing at a joke that puts queer people in the role of caricature. It's condoning discrimination, thinking "it's not worth arguing about."
It's not just the loudest people that make up the atmosphere. It's also created by the majority who are silent.
And it is this daily normalisation of small prejudices that creates the ground on which larger expressions of hatred can grow. Physical violence does not begin with a fist. It begins with the sentence "this is too much".
Why we must keep fighting for human rights
You may think that the topic of equality is already exhausted. That it's talked about too much. But reality shows that safety and dignity are not a given.
Human rights are not an ideological project. They are a basic protection against having to hide who one is. So that asking for a hand in marriage is not a risky gesture. So that love is not conditional on silence.
So the question is not whether you are a "bad person". Rather, whether you are willing to look at your own sentences and attitudes with distance.
Maybe you're not a homophobe in the traditional sense. Maybe you just grew up in an environment where certain views were considered normal.
It's just that the ability to re-evaluate what we have taken for granted is the mark of a mature society. And it is also the only way to ensure that stories like the one about Pascal Kaiser do not become yet another reminder that equality is still fragile.
So once again: are you a homophobe by any chance? And if you're not sure, that's no reason to be defensive. It's a reason to think.
