Jason Y: Only massively hypermasculine men would kill someone accusing them of being gay. Other people possibly get hurt by it, but either ignore it or maybe try to insult them back, but in a low-key manner, maybe with some “Fuck you” remark or something.
White Dawg: I agree with you, Jason. If you are remotely masculine and not mentally ill, you would counter with a put down of some sort. One might choose to ignore but usually, one does say “Fuck you, blow me” in one way or the other. Sometimes, during the fighting ages – teens, late adolescence or early twenties, calling someone something similar to this would be the last words used to start the actual fistfight.
But, murder, no. Maybe accidental manslaughter.
Keywords are “not mentally ill”.
I live in the hood. It’s full of Mexicans, who are massively hypermasculine, and Blacks, and you know what they are like. We also have a fair number of Arabs. Do you think Arabs are hypermasculine? The few Whites around here are essentially the dregs. The very few good-looking White girls around here are all hooked with really lousy, ghetto, thuggish Black guys. The guys look like total scum, but the White girls eat em up like chocolate.
A good way to get punched or even killed in Latin America is to challenge a man’s masculinity in any way. In fact in a number of those countries, you can just about get away with such a crime, as it is considered an honor crime, and a man has a right to defend his honor down there, with his fist or maybe even with a gun or a knife.
Down there, some guy calls another guy a faggot pussy, and the other guy pulls out a knife and stabs him. Most men down there will have no sympathy for the guy who got killed. They will say that he was asking for it, and what did he expect was going to happen? No sympathy for idiots. He would be treated like a guy who jumps into the polar bear exhibit as the zoo and gets killed. So what! Darwin Award!
About the guy who did it, a lot of guys will just shrug their shoulders and say, “Yeah, well, a man has to defend his honor…I might do the same.”
They would agree that it is a tragic situation for both parties, and it is a rather sad and not joyous occasion, but they will tend to have a “What do you expect?” attitude towards the killer. They might be inclined to let him go. They won’t cheer for him, and they will think it is all a tragic mistake, but they will not want to persecute him either.
Fight Over “Faggot!” Remark One
When I was 19, I went out with a couple of my friends. My friends were quite good-looking Alpha type guys (surfer/stoner/drug dealer types), and actually that description in the parenthesis would be a good description of me too. I don’t know if I was good-looking or not, but people were always raving about how handsome I was, so perhaps I looked good.
One of the guys knew these two single chicks who lived alone. Problem was they were fat, but they were very nice and sort of pretty too. They were about 19. We went in the apartment and the vibes were crazy. These two fat chicks were giving off vibes like, “Whoa! We won the lottery! When do we get a chance to get guys like this? How do we get these guys to fuck us? Goddamn, we want to fuck you hot guys so bad! We are going to tie you guys up and rape you here!” and we were giving off vibes like, “Um, don’t think so, you chicks are really nice, but you’re fat, sorry lol.” The sexual tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Nobody said much along those lines, but you could feel the sexual cold front like a heavy fog.
So nothing really happened.
We went to this party across the way. I think we went with those girls. There was booze, hard liquor and I think a lot of pot. By 11 PM I was seriously wasted, and the room was rotating on its axis. All three of us guys were in the kitchen, and all of us were straight. The two other guys were seriously macho, almost scary. Some guy tried to one-up or AMOG us. He pointed to all three of us, noted that we were all together, had been together all night and had not gotten any women, therefore, we must be faggots. He was not very nice about it either.
My friend suddenly turned around and hit him hard. They guy flew back against the wall, and there was a serious fight for awhile. We left later and were talking in restaurant and decided that a comment like that could only have been answered with a punch. I said I was not sure if I would hit someone who called me that, and the guy who threw the punch said, “I sure hope you would,” and looked at me disdainfully and dubiously. The other guy agreed. Their attitude was, if you do not answer that comment with a punch, you are seriously pussy or probably a fag yourself. You are disgusting and disreputable, you are not any sort of man at all, and we will not associate with you anymore. You are a worm. Oh and you’re probably a fag yourself.v
Fight Over “Faggot!” Remark Two
This guy named RG was one of meanest and evilest bullies around. Basically your worst nightmare of an antisocial juvenile delinquent. He called me a fag in the 8th grade one day after school. I am not sure what else he did. I think he started something physical or challenged me to fight.
At any rate, he did something provocative, and there was a huge fight between him and me. I held my own somehow. It wasn’t fun at all, but a huge crowd of guys gathered around, and they were all cheering and yelling like it was a football game. Good times! The fight ended with no one winning. Everyone agreed that I had to hit him in those circumstances. My net worth at the school increased exponentially after that fight. Before I was a wimp, but now there was this new respect. I was still sort of geek, but now I was a dangerous and honorable geek and plus I was probably not a fag either, and that at least earns a nod.
Fight Over “Faggot!” Remark Three
A couple of years after incident one at age 21, I was at this party my friends threw. We were all drinking beer, and it was about 10-11 PM. RG came up to me.
Well, RG could never get laid ever for some reason even though he was a psychopathic bully. He was almost too mean and ugly to get laid if that’s even possible. He was a doper all through high school, and I think even the booze set in which was unusual for high school, as alcs were rare. After high school, he turned full-blown alcoholic, dressed poorly, never combed his hair, smelled bad, was as ugly as ever and stumbled around drunk most of the time. Of course he was just as mean as ever, but now he was regarded as a pity case, being a drunk.
He staggered up to me at the party outside and said, “Lindsay LOL. You faggot LOL.” Well that’s one thing, and who knows how to respond? But while he is doing this, he took his beer and poured it down the front of my open shirt. Now where I grew up, if someone does that, you have to hit them. You must. No two ways about. If you don’t, you are a pathetic, sissy fag and no one will talk to you anymore. Well, I hit him about as soon as he did that, and a wild fistfight broke out.
Somehow the fight migrated into the kitchen, and the women as usual were yelling, “Both of you guys are going to jail!” the way they always do.
Some people were asking what to do, but one guy said, “Don’t worry. Just leave them alone. Bob will kick his ass.”
The kitchen cleared out fast, and the fight got seriously nuts and even dangerous. I was so mad I picked up a kitchen table, lifted it over my head and smashed the table right down on his head! Yep. I hit a man over the head with a table! With a table. I can’t believe I did that. I did it with such force that the wooden table broke into many pieces, and RG crashed to the ground, nearly out cold and badly hurt but not dead or even close. Eventually, RG picked himself up, staggered over to me and shook my hand. I guess he wasn’t going to call me a faggot anymore that night.
There was some frenzied discussion about what I did.
“Geez man. Bob broke the damn table! Is that ok? Should we let him get away with that? He should pay for it.”
The attitude of most including the owners of the house was, “So what, who cares if he smashed the table to bits? It was worth it for RG to get his ass kicked. Bob should not be made to pay for the table. Just forget it.”
I would be careful calling people that. Those are fighting words where I was brought up.