Born this way or not, I don't care

Lady Gaga (usually) isn't my cup of tea, but I reserve a special blend of contempt for "Born This Way."

It could be because the song is a blatant attempt at manufacturing a modern gay anthem in pursuit of commercial gain. Or maybe it's because the first time I heard it on the radio I was told "oh, you must love this song," as if gays are drawn to Gaga and gay empowerment ballads like glittered moths to a flame.

But ignoring those reasons, I still find myself uneasy with the song's message, no matter how pro-gay it is.

It's not that I disagree with the argument that sexuality is inborn, determined by genetics and other biological factors out of our control. The evidence, both scientific and anecdotal, is stacked strongly in favor of a biological basis for being gay.

Take my early childhood, for example. At age 3 I frequently made a dash for a particular set of red heels in the shoe department of Boscov's, a department store chain at our local mall.

By age 5 I was convinced the proper way to conclude grace before a meal was not "amen" but "and men." You know, as in "Dear God we thank you for this food, and men." Why nobody, including my YMCA pre-school teachers, ever corrected me is still a mystery.

My memory can only stretch back so far, so I can't be sure when all that started. Something could have happened in those first few years to steer me on the queer path, but it's safe to reason, as much as I hate giving Gaga credit, that I was born this way.

The search for the "gay gene" started decades ago. Back in the 1970s, before the American Psychological Association took homosexuality off its list of mental disorders, a biological basis for homosexuality was undeniably important. Proof that we were born gay (or bisexual) would show we weren't ill and deserved to be treated equally.

No definitive answer has yet been found, but a few genes of interest have been identified, like suspects in a murder investigation. For now, the hunt continues.

But really, who cares?

First, does it make a significant difference if I can point to a certain stretch of DNA, a gene here, a whack chromosome there, and say without a doubt "this is why I'm gay?" It certainly lends a sense of credibility to homosexuality; nature did this, and nature is not to be doubted.

But if I chose it, if I looked at the two genders, weighed my options and picked men over women, does that mean I should be open to scorn? Cynthia Nixon, of Sex in the City fame, caused some controversy last week when, in an interview with the New York Times, she said while her bisexuality is "a fact" it was her choice to be in a gay relationship. Whatever makes you happy, right?

More frightening is the prospect of what society would do with the knowledge of the precise causes of homosexuality. It's safe to say we would have been stamped out long ago had societies known how to effectively do so. Given a prenatal test that can determine the sexuality of a fetus, or a gene-therapy that turns a gay person straight, at least some parents wouldn't think twice about changing the orientation of their soon-to-be-homposexual newborn.

To be perfectly honest, I can't say for certain I wouldn't "heterosexualize" my own child with the intention of making his or her life easier in mind. It'd be a tough decision, one I'd mull over for months, but it's hard to deny the added challenges facing LGBT youth regardless of their environment, accepting or not.

For now, I'm happy attributing my gay identity to an unidentified cause, either biological, psychological or a mixture of the two. Subscribing to one theory doesn't change anything, and neither does proving one.

Besides, don't scientists have more pressing matters to attend to? I'm pretty sure Hollywood promised me hoverboards by 2015.

So leave my genes alone, science, and stop trying to figure out if we were born this way or not. Either way, we're still here.