I have no patience for homophobia.

Hear, O children of truth and dignity, the words of Dan Levy, a voice of courage in our age: “I have no patience for homophobia.” These words are simple, yet they thunder like the voice of justice itself. For what is patience, if not endurance for things that test the soul? And why should one endure hatred, when hatred is the poison of humanity? In this declaration, Levy doth not merely express anger; he proclaims a sacred boundary—that the dignity of love and identity shall not be trampled by cruelty, and that silence in the face of injustice is no virtue.

Know ye the origin of such words: they are born from centuries of silence, when men and women of diverse love were cast into shadows, mocked, hunted, and condemned. Yet the world began to awaken, and voices rose to declare that love is no crime, that humanity is richer for its diversity. Levy, in his art and his speech, hath lifted a banner of light. Through his stories and his stance, he showeth that kindness, humor, and truth are the weapons that tear down walls of prejudice. His words are not only a personal creed, but a summons to all who would live with open hearts.

Consider the tale of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office in California. He too declared, in life and in death, that there must be no patience for homophobia. Though his days were cut short by violence, his courage ignited movements across nations. In him we see the truth: hatred thrives only when unchallenged. But when confronted by the fearless, it begins to crumble. Milk’s voice, like Levy’s, reminds us that justice is not passive, but active; not silent, but outspoken.

Mark well this wisdom: tolerance for hatred is no virtue. There are times when patience is noble, when long-suffering leads to peace. But there are other times when patience becomes complicity, when waiting only extends the chains of oppression. Against cruelty, against injustice, against homophobia, one must not wait, one must not yield. To say “I have no patience” is to say, “I will not give hatred room to grow.” It is the shield of the oppressed, and the sword of those who stand beside them.

Yet, O children of tomorrow, remember also: the battle is not only against those who spew hatred, but also against the indifference of the many. For indifference is the soil in which prejudice taketh root. When a cruel word is spoken and unchallenged, it spreads. When a deed of hatred is ignored, it strengthens. Therefore, to live with no patience for homophobia is to act, to speak, to defend, even when the struggle is uncomfortable. This is the duty of the just.

The lesson is plain: love is sacred, and dignity is not negotiable. Let every soul examine their heart and ask: do I remain silent when I should speak? Do I turn away when I should stand? For the mark of a righteous society is not in how it treats the powerful, but how it defends the vulnerable. To have “no patience” is not to act in cruelty, but to act in unwavering defense of compassion and equality.

Practical is this counsel: when thou hearest a word of hatred, answer with truth. When thou seest one mocked, stand at their side. When thou findest thyself among those who sow division, be the voice that refuseth to echo their scorn. Teach thy children to love broadly, to see beyond labels, to cherish the humanity in every soul. Let kindness be the fire that consumes prejudice, and let courage be the wind that spreads it.

Thus remember: “I have no patience for homophobia” is not merely a rebuke, but a call to action. It is the cry of justice that demandeth every generation to rise, to defend, to create a world where all may love freely and walk without fear. Take this mantle upon your shoulders, O heirs of the future, and let not your patience be wasted on hatred, but let your strength be poured into the building of a world radiant with dignity, compassion, and truth.