I've been pretty quiet for the last month about a lot of things I felt like I needed to talk about. I just couldn't do it. I felt like I've spent a lot of the past month surrounded by death. It's been all consuming, and it's finally getting to the point where I don't feel completely overwhelmed by it. I haven't read a single article about the recent rash of gay teen suicides. I haven't watched a single "It Gets Better" video. I haven't said anything about it, except to say, "I can't deal with this."
Most of you that have known me for a long time know that I was bullied in high school. A lot of you were there to see it, to help stop it, to comfort me, and to make sure I'm still here today. It was never physical. I was very lucky it wasn't. It almost got physical one night though. That night was the worst it ever was, and that's what I'm going to tell you about. I just want you to know what it was like.
It was the end of senior year. I don't remember how this initially started. It happened during the day. It happened all the time, so this particular instance doesn't stand out for me. I was in the hallway, and was getting called a faggot. That evening we were supposed to have Awards Night. It was a time for all the seniors to get recognized for graduating with honors, getting scholarships, and things like that. After the incident in the hall I decided not to go. Then a teacher told me that I deserved to go because I had earned my awards. She was right, and I changed my mind. However, I didn't even tell my parents about the ceremony. I was afraid something would happen and they would find out I was gay. I was terrified.
The ceremony had barely started when the guys sitting next to me started harassing me. I spent the evening being told that I was never going to be anything but a faggot, and that I was nothing but a worthless queer. And I sat there, trying not to cry. I was sweating through my shirt, trying my best not to just get up and run. I felt like if I cried, if I fled, then I was letting them win. I'd be showing them that everything they were saying about me was right. I wasn't going to let that happen. After the ceremony, my friend Sheree' came up to tell me she had heard several people talk about wanting to jump me in the parking lot. She walked me to my car to make sure I was okay. I can't even begin to imagine what could have happened to me if she hadn't done that. I went home angry, scared, and alone. The next day, my friends rallied and took care of me. I didn't find out until way later that one of the guys almost didn't graduate because of that night.
That was just one of many, many incidents I dealt with.
This summer, I was in Target with Matt and I saw one of those guys. My heart started pounding. My hands started shaking. I'm not going to lie. I was scared, and I hated myself for it. Those fears never go away. I'm almost 32. I have a loving husband, and a wonderful life, but the second I saw him walking toward me all of that disappeared. Suddenly I was 16 years old again, and afraid. I spent the next week feeling bad about myself for letting it get to me the way it did.
Suicide was never an option for me. One friend of mine killed himself for different reasons, and I saw what it did to everyone around him. The anniversary of his death was just a few weeks ago. I thought that if I killed myself, the assholes won. If I showed them that I was weak, I was letting myself down. I thought I had to be strong because if I wasn't, they'd see my weakness and things would be even worse.
Does it get better? It does, but it never goes away. There are times when I'm still that terrified 16 year old, trying to put on a brave face because I don't feel like anyone will understand. I don't want to tell the kids that were in my position that it gets better. I want to tell them not to let the assholes win. Don't let some insecure fuck take away your life. I let those stupid bastards destroy my self worth. It eventually got better, but instead of worrying about what college I was going to go to, I worried about whether I'd get my ass kicked going from my locker to english class. Starting community college was extremely hard for me. I was afraid it would be high school all over again. I let fear get in the way of so many things.
I made it through because I had people who care about me. I know not all gay teens are that lucky. I had friends and teachers that were on my side, and let me know they were there. Even when I couldn't go to my family for help, I had people there for me. Telling gays that it gets better is great. They need to know that. But it takes time. It takes strength, and a support system for it to get better. My message isn't, "it gets better." Mine is, "Fight for yourself. Don't let the assholes win. The world is full of people who will try to tell you that you're less than. Don't believe them."
National Coming Out Day just ended. It would be really easy for me to regret coming out to one person. If I hadn't, none of that shit would have happened to me. I don't regret it though. I look at who I am today, and know that I owe so much of it to that terrified little 16 year old boy who didn't give up, and to the people that didn't let him.
To say that I'm blessed is an understatement. There was a time when I believed everything those insecure boys told me on Awards Night. They were wrong.
Walking to my car that evening, I ran into the teacher that convinced me to go to Awards Night. I vaguely mentioned what happened, and she said I was a better person for sitting through that hell than the guys who put me through it. I told her that didn't make me feel any better. Today it does. I see everything I have and know that I won. I didn't let them break me.
