William and I had a little talk about what it means to be gay or lesbian. A preemptive strike before he hears “That’s so gay” or “You’re gay” out in the world. A simple, short conversation. What is means to be gay or lesbian – which was a simple “when two boys (or girls) want to be together like mama & daddy are together”. Then talking about the many people we know and love who are gay or lesbian, and that some people think that being gay or lesbian is bad or dumb or stupid – but we know it’s not. There are good people and bad people, but being gay does not put you in the bad category automatically. And to stand up to people who use those words in a hurtful way.
William being William it was a much easier conversation than I had envisioned. He basically told me what to do with bullies – tell them what they’re doing is not nice or ask them why they are doing it.
This is, of course, a talk I never had with my parents. I never even had a sex talk with my parents. Or a bullying talk for that matter – and I needed one as I was bullied a lot when I was in first grade. The kind of bullying that left me with bruises all over my backside – a group of older girls on my bus decided that I was going to be their pet project for the year and beat the crap out of me because – according to the storyline they played out – I was a mixed breed and needed to be punished. This was rural Lousiana in the late 70s and no one could figure out why I didn’t fit in a neat black or white box and that, for some reason, meant I needed to be dealt with. My mother only saw those bruises once – I said I had fallen on the playground and she must have bought it.
I never told anyone about those girls and the next year they had moved on to middle school so I was free of them. But for the longest time they still lived inside my head. First grade taught me to try and make as little impact as possible. Keep my head down, shut up, hang back. If I made myself invisible no one would bother me. I used those tactics throughout grade school. But, then in seventh grade I discovered track through some new friends of mine. I realized I COULD do something, and do it really well. The power that surged through me as I made my legs turn over and over and over was simply amazing to me. In high school I joined cross-country and ran track and was even more amazed at how I could push my body, how I could WIN things, be somebody that people admired and looked up to, a force for opposing teams to reckon with. That I could have my parents be proud of me (I assume now they were proud of me before, but my parents aren’t the most demonstrative - that they would travel hours – we lived in rural Washington state – to see me run in a track meet was so cool), that I had teammates rooting for me, and pep rallies where our team was cheered for. It was hard (to know I was being SEEN) and exhilarating all at the same time. I joined other things – FBLA, the newspaper, Math Team. I realized I had the power to make things happen – I didn’t have to sit on the sidelines and try to not be noticed.
In my 20s I stretched my ability to make myself seen – outrageous clothes, rock and roll lifestyle, lots of boys. It was a fabulous, crazy, drama-ridden time. I lived and loved hard. I made sure I was seen.
And now in my 30s I’ve finally become comfortable just being me. Arty, quirky, kooky me. Love me or not – I’m ok either way. And I’ve built up (and am building up again as I’ve just moved across country) a circle of friends that are amazingly diverse – I’m not sure they would all get along if they were in the same room together. But I have connections with all of them and take them as they are – and they take me as I am.
I’ve never actually spoken this story before, it’s not something I think of often. But the dialogue on bullying has made it bubble up for me. It’s not just GLBT kids that are bullied. Although they carry I burden I can’t imagine, there are so many other kids and adults that carry the shame of being bullied – for looking different, acting different, or just for no reason at all. And it’s true – things do get better. We all find our tribes in time. And I think power is key – because bullies are experts at taking away our power. Making us feel small and weak. We are all powerful – we just have to find that power within us.
Loved all your photos amazing shots. Thanks for stopping by my blog.