The Cob and Log Hampster Wheel

Mere hours after I typed my last joyous post, I sat in a classroom in high school in which bigotry erupted. The teacher did nothing while 16 year olds pounded their fists on the table reminding us that it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.  The teacher nodder her head to some students, shook it at others, but did not mitigate the fear of queerness that had been unleashed (by a seemingly non-threatening expository text titled, "American Government: Current Issues"). I wont’ repeat all of the gory details here, but there were at least 10 students talking at once. It was incredibly unsafe for any potential GLBT youth in the room (actually unsafe for anyone with a conscience, really).

The next evening, a 17 year old was found in a parking lot about 5 blocks from the high school, with his clothes torn, and his body covered in swastikas and "gay slurs."   When I relayed this information to the teacher’s in the lounge at lunch (worried that it was one of the silent students in that class, terrorized by one of the vocal students), the reponse was a muted affirmation that it wasn’t one of our students. And then, "So, anyway, the new LL Bean…" ( I could not make this stuff up if I TRIED! And beleive me, I try. Every day I go home and think that maybe I imagined everything that went on. People cannot really be like this, can they?)

The long and short of it is that I have to write a full summary for the higher-ups at BC.  You can’t tell anyone about this, but I wanted to post this so that you all know what’s going on. It’s really intense. Really intense.  I met with the Dean last week, etc.

Interestingly, I have been gender-crossing in the teacher’s lounge.  I  sat at the male teacher’s table the other day as an experiment.  Their reaction will shock you, delight you, and hopefully make you continue to be you. Because it’s important that we’re out here.

God, folks, there is so much to tell you. I wish I could sit down and focus long enough to get it all down, but I feel blocked. I have to get this summary down, but I fret that I won’t tell the story right, and that nothing will happen.  I can’t bear the thought of that, but I feel somehow compelled sometimes to turn inwards. Or to beleive the stories that They tell, that I’m crazy, that I’m the one that is biased and intolerant, that I’m idealistic, that I’m asking for too much. Well, everything is too much! I have been hungry since the day I was born, since I was first taught how to hate my body — and the feast has only begun.

Lovelies: Every day I go to high school with all of you in my back pocket, so thank you for being here, and please continue to be here. I am up against a lot right now. Not just a big faceless amorphous machine, but a very real situation unfolding before me.  Someone has to sign off on my teaching liscense in a month, and both of those people have indicated to me that they don’t support gay people. So, yes, I’m writing my thesis; yes, it’s my birthday this week; and yes, I going to be really brave and do this, but only because we will die if we don’t stop being silent. I will kill myself if I am silent and starving.  This is what my twenties taught me. Thirty will be dirty and full.