Philly, let's see a little more brotherly love

Marie-Helene Bertino

is a novelist in Brooklyn

Recently, a gay couple were attacked in Center City. A group of people allegedly hurled homophobic insults at the couple and then held them down. Some members of the group beat the men. Others allegedly stood by and cheered.

After the criminals abandoned these men beaten on the ground, other, better Philadelphians stepped in. My Facebook news feed filled with photographs and surveillance footage of the perpetrators. There are only two kinds of people in Philadelphia - those you know, and those you haven't figured out yet how you know. Within days, these Internet sleuths helped the Philadelphia Police Department bring in three suspects.

Never has one story better encapsulated what I love most and least about my hometown. While the tenacity that led do-gooders to track these suspects down is exceptional, the case is another sad reminder of long-standing antipathy.

In my novel 2 a.m. at The Cat's Pajamas, set over the course of an evening in Philadelphia, gay characters and their straight counterparts interact with no friction. Sadly, this acceptance of sexual orientation doesn't reflect the Philly I knew as a kid.

One afternoon our high school's play rehearsal was interrupted by the football team, which stood in the back of the auditorium chanting, "Fag." The target of the taunting was my friend, who was rehearsing his lines onstage. The coach was present but did nothing - his players jeered until our red-faced director shooed them away. At my Philadelphia suburban college of more than 10,000, there was not one openly lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender student or organization. My friends remained closeted, fearing repercussions both societal and administrative.

Today, a friend works for the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, but remains closeted because he knows if he came out he'd be fired. He continues to work for an institution that would deny him every human right because he believes in Catholicism's tenet to love your neighbor with no judgment. Earlier this year, a Bensalem Catholic school fired a teacher after he talked about marrying his partner.

I relate to my hometown as a friend, one I wish could see how great he is, and understand that he needn't lash out at anyone whose difference scares him.

I'm guilty of propagating Philadelphia's reputation for hardness. I've retold stories about sports fans throwing batteries and booing Santa, about the weatherman drummed out of town over an incorrect blizzard forecast. People laugh, but there's a layer of prejudice and violence that is tolerated and encouraged by these stories.

We need to begin to tell ourselves a new story and move away from the grudges our old one sanctions. We must stop being proud of how violent we are.

We must also think about why the alleged perpetrators of the recent attack cannot be tried for hate crimes - a more serious offense than simple assault. Right now, Pennsylvania law does not consider an attack a hate crime if someone is beaten up because of sexual orientation. That needs to change.

And we need to speak out. I recently watched the movie The Normal Heart and was inspired by the character based on Larry Kramer's life, Ned Weeks, who ceaselessly drew attention to the prejudices the gay community was facing in the 1980s. It occurred to me that if I do not use my voice to protest what I know is wrong, I am no better than those who stand by and allow acts of violence to occur.

Philadelphia, I love you, but you're breaking my heart. It is reprehensible to discriminate against someone because of whom they love. It is reprehensible to publicly declare support for people's rights while quietly solidifying discriminatory practices and refusing to punish hate crimes.

What you do to two men on the street in Center City you do to everyone. I am a Philadelphia daughter, and that means I'm loyal for life, but it is beyond time for Philadelphia to shake its bad rep and step onto the national stage as a model of brotherly and sisterly love - a city of love is love.