We all know how this script is supposed to go: Gay kid gets teased and bullied. Gay kid feels demeaned and ashamed. Gay kid maybe gets beaten up. Gay kid runs off to lick his wounds and feel horrible about himself. Gay kid feels alone. But not this time. This time the gay kid, my gay kid, fought back. And the bully ran away.
I held it together in public, but I really wanted to cry at the beautiful moment I had just witnessed. But then it hit me; I had just judged someone. I had assumed that because this man fit a certain stereotype that he was instantly against equality, and there was no way that he could possibly approve of his son's sexuality.