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Pink Point - Crusade

by Eric Rozenboom in Columns & Opinions , 21 september 2009


To The Point - True stories from Pink Point, the gay and lesbian info kiosk at the Homomonument. See www.pinkpoint.org

A wonderful sunny Sunday afternoon. I’m arranging the drinks in the fridge - a habit I developed when I worked in a supermarket for half a morning when I was sixteen years old. After I noticed what filling shelves did for my cuticles I was out of there with the speed of light. I have my back to the entrance when a friendly voice asks me whether I like to read.


I get the strangest questions here, I’ve talked about them before, but whether I like to read?
I turn around and see an elderly white man and a young brown girl in the middle of Pink Point. Perhaps my face was too much like “me no understand” for the man asks me again: “Do you like to read... about religion?” Well, I’ve had my time as a choirboy in the Catholic church, so I’ve done my share of kneeling, in front of crosses, but still, I had to respond negatively.


I was quite surprised, listening to what I’d by now identified as Jehovah’s witnesses. Smart, I thought, choosing Pink Point. I couldn’t slam the door on them here, so they had a good chance of getting away with this without a sore foot.

I noticed the man was doing all the talking and the girl sort of disappeared behind him. What was going on here? Was it a remnant of colonialism, or are the Jehovah’s witnesses so similar to Islam that the women take the back seat whenever a man is present? I still don’t know because after listening to a long-winded story on how to overcome homosexuality, I asked the good man if he liked having sex, and he was silent at last.

So I could tell him that I have a weakness for elderly men and that he was really actually my type exactly. I told him I would be keen to come to his church on Sunday if that meant I could kneel, in front of him.

The silence became quite deadly and cold now. Without looking at me again he dragged the girl outside. I saw them work the entire area of the Westermarkt that afternoon, but they didn’t look back at our beautiful kiosk. Perhaps this crusade was getting a bit too steamy for Mr. Jehovah.



 







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