Fox Complains of Mistreatment in Henhouse

Almost every Friday night, a Christian group assembles in San Francisco's predominantly gay Castro district. They spend most of the night there, praying and telling everyone who passes that they're sinners and they need to repent.

Last Friday, it didn't go so well.



This account was posted anonymously telling one side of the story:

It was the first time we'd been back in the Castro to do our normal outreach since California Proposition 8, which defined marriage as "one man with one woman" was passed. We played the guitar and sang together and worshiped the Lord. After just singing and worshiping God for a while, Roger decided that we should all hold hands in a circle and continue singing. So we did. Someone (Actually a person who came up and hugged and kissed some of us who he knew from the past) convinced some people that we were there to protest against the no on 8 campaign.

Then some guy who was dressed up like one of the sisters (The sisters of perpetual indulgence is a group of men who dress up like nuns and call themselves the spiritual authority of the Castro.) took a curtain-type thing (Which I think they use to curse people) and wrapped it around us. Then a crowd started gathering. We began to sing "Amazing Grace", and basically sang that song the whole night. (At some points we also sang "Nothing but the Blood of Jesus" and "Oh the Blood of Jesus".)

At first, they just shouted at us, using crude, rude, and foul language and calling us names like "haters" and "bigots". Since it was a long night, I can't even begin to remember all of the things that were shouted and/or chanted at us. Then, they started throwing hot coffee, soda and alcohol on us and spitting (and maybe even peeing) on us. Then, a group of guys surrounded us with whistles, and blasted them inches away from our ears continually. Then, they started getting violent and started shoving us. . . .

Roger got death threats. As the leader of our group, people looked him in the eyes and said "I am going to kill you.", and they were serious. A cop heard one of them, and confronted him. (This part is kinda graphic, so you should skip the paragraph if you don't want to be offended.) It wasn't long before the violence turned to perversion. They were touching and grabbing me, and trying to shove things in my butt, and even trying to take off my pants - basically trying to molest me. I used one hand to hold my pants up, while I used the other arm to hold one of the girls. The guys huddled around all the girls, and protected them.

Soon after, the cops came and stood between us and the mob. When it was getting more heated, the cops were like "You guys should leave." and Roger said "We want to stay." Someone tried to steal my backpack, but I tapped a cop on the shoulder, and said "Hey, that's my bag." and he got it from him and gave it to me. Others weren't so lucky. Probably half our team got their jackets stolen.

Eventually, as the crowd was getting more and more uncontrollable, the cops were afraid for our lives, so they escorted us to our van. (The cops were very nice to us from start to finish.) Our van was parked pretty far because it was hard to find parking that day. As the cops escorted us, the mob followed us, until the cops formed a line, and held off the people so we could drive away. We took the long way home, just in case anyone tried to follow us.

When we got home, we prayed and sang more, and then prayed over each-other.

                        -- "IntolerantPeople" (via Joe.My.God)



And here's another.

One night I went to a bar, and I met two guys who were around my age and seemed really nice. Around midnight they offered me a ride home, and I said sure. I figured I could trust them, because one was a priest in the Mormon church.

First they robbed me, and then they took my keys so they could go to my house and steal stuff there. They drove me out to a dark, secluded area where they could torture me without being observed. After several hours, when I was close to death, they dragged me out of the car and tied me to a fence.

Eighteen hours later a guy riding by on a bicycle saw me and thought I was a scarecrow. By now I was in a coma. My injuries were too severe for doctors to operate, and four days later I died.

                        -- Matthew Shepard