The Day I Got Beat Up

Oct 11th, 2010 11:29 PM By lindsay parent

The day I got beat up I remember it well. My boyfriend at the time and I were at the bus stop outside Highfield Square in Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada during rush hour and this young fellow came up and said he did not appreciate our lifestyle in public.

I did approach him and said “Why?” We were not even holding hands, next thing I knew I got hit over my left eye and the blood started to flow. I passed out and the next thing I was at the hospital and being stitched up. They were telling my mother that when I got home to keep waking me up every half hour just in case of trauma.

Anyway, the end result by the police – not enough evidence. Yet, it happened in front of a big crowd on the main street in a small city and no one saw anything.

So, when they tell me someone got beat up or killed, yes it hits home and for awhile I was even too scared to go outside, but now if no one likes my sexual orientation, too bad, deal with it.

Matthew Shepard’s Death was a Defining Moment for Me

Oct 11th, 2010 10:06 PM By Laura

Matthew Shepard’s death was a defining moment in my life.

For those of you who’ve been around my blog long enough, you know I’ve blogged about him and about co-directing Laramie Project at my school.

But when I think of Matthew Shepard, I immediately flash back to graduate school at Iowa State and hearing about the death of this college student and HOW he died. And I remember finding a picture of him and taking it into class and handing it out and asking students to look at it without saying anything for a minute. No one knew who he was from that picture. But then I told them. This had come after a language analysis assignment wherein some students had written hateful things they’d heard in relationship to the word “fag.” I nearly cried talking to the class about the power of language and how language hurts.

It wasn’t language that killed Matthew Shepard. It was cold and violence. But, as noted in the play, violence occurs every time someone is called a fag or a dyke.

I got my MA and got a full time job at a small college in Iowa. And I started a Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Alliance (GLBTA) with the criminal justice professor, whose son is gay. We had one declared member. But, it was our idea that anyone in need would know that we were there. It was in class there that students thought you could ‘catch’ gay by touching someone.
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Dear World

Oct 11th, 2010 09:57 PM By Johnny

Dear World,

You do not know me, but my name is John. I am a gay man. I just wanted to ask why are you so scared of me? I really am not that different from you. I have the same wants and needs as you. I love just like you and I have the same fears as you. I live in a house just as you do. I pay taxes and work just as you do. I shop and laugh and cry just as you. I care about the children’s education and safety just as you. I have pets I love dearly just as many of you do. I have friends and family I love dearly as well, just as you do. I have a partner I love dearly just as many of you do and many of you will. I watch TV and enjoy the same shows as you. I go out to eat and to the movies as you do. I drive a car and pay bills just as you do. So again I ask, Why are you so scared and hateful towards me and my fellow brothers and sisters? You see my wants and needs are no different than yours. My fears are no different than yours. My wish to have peace in the world is no different than yours. So why??

You see I am a person just as you are. I have feelings just as you do. My wants are just the same as yours. So again I ask….why do you hate me? I just want to live. Just as you do. I want to love and be loved just as you. You see I do not hate you or fear you. I embrace you as part of the world I live in. Can you not do the same? What is it about me that scares you so? I do not want you to be afraid or hate me so tell me what it is, and we can start there to change. I just wanted to ask you world, why? I will sign off now.

Yours truly,
John, A gay man

Seattle in the Seventies

Oct 11th, 2010 09:50 PM By Buz

I was outed at fourteen and tossed out like trash at barely fifteen, after being literally locked in an upstairs bedroom for WEEKS. Tossed into the foster care system in 1970, there weren’t many homes willing to take a homosexual child except those who believed that their religion was strong enough to ‘cure’ me. Harassed at home and at school persistently, I tried to remain closeted. I was the kid who never spoke until spoken to and was teased mercilessly in the halls of school based only on speculation. They didn’t really *know* about me, but presumed it and ran with it.

In the middle of my sophomore year, I joined some activists I had met at a picket line in Downtown Seattle. We were picketing the offices of the Chief of Police, demanding answers for the brutality that uniformed officers were visiting on gays and lesbians. Yes, uniformed police officers. They would sit across streets from our bars and wait for one or perhaps two people to walk out unescorted, jump out of their cars and beat the individuals bloody, leaving them bleeding on the sidewalk. We wanted answers. What was Chief Tielsch willing to do to stop the senseless and illegal violence we suffered at the hands of those we are supposed to rely on to protect us? The chief refused to see the leaders of our protest, and threatened arrests if we didn’t clear the sidewalks. A few of our number went to jail. I was shirked off by responsible leaders and protected, as I was the youngest of the participants. Thank heaven for those people.
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I Still Remember

Oct 11th, 2010 05:04 PM By Abbe

My friend and I had been walking through her neighborhood when a neighbor started yelling at us from on the hill calling us lesbians. Not that it matters but we were just best friends and she was straight. Later on that day we decided to go to the park. We were standing on the roundabout and spinning around on it while three other people were sitting on the swings. We never said a word to them, looked at them or payed any attention to them but that didn’t mean anything.

They started talking loudly (almost to the point of yelling) about how much they were lesbians and how much they loved having sex with women (2 were female, 1 was a male) and other obnoxious things aimed at us. We ignored them until they started yelling to us about having sex with them. We asked them to please leave us alone and that we weren’t lesbians. Instead of stopping, they tried to get us over in the bushes by offering us sex and so we were so uncomfortable that we decided to leave the park and head to a neighboring school park.

Once we got to the other park we were able to swing on the swings for about 2 minutes before we realized that they followed us and we could hear them yelling gay slurs at us. As they got closer we got up and started to walk across the field to leave the park and they kept following us and yelling more gay slurs at us. Suddenly they started throwing rocks and batteries at us as we began to run from them (by this time it was pitch dark).
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This Story Must Be Told

Oct 11th, 2010 04:33 PM By Cesar

Leonardo was a brilliant guy who I was very lucky to meet and became his friend many years ago. In a very few time, I could realize that he was an exceptional human being. He loved to travel, cook, dance, make incredible parties, watch movies, dream, in other words he was awesome. Many times he talked to me about the idea to live in Spain and open a restaurant in order to have a quiet and peaceful life far away from the pressure that he constantly felt because his well known and extremely conservative family in Michoacan, Mexico.

Leo was suffering depression and fear for long periods. Looking to be a better person and to live happier he practiced meditation. In fact, he was my first contact to this world. I remember once when we went very exited to a silence retreat in a Convent in Tenancingo, Hidalgo. Unfortunately, it was a second level retreat and nobody taught me any technique to maintain my eyes closed, so I could not meditate. Anyway, it was an unforgettable experience just for being in a place with people who don’t talk each other even to comment about the beautiful landscape.

During our trip from Mexico City to Tenancingo and then to Patzcuaro, we had the opportunity to talk for hours. We talked about our personal experiences living in small cities, and we realized that we have many things in common. We shared many stories, from superficial ones to the classic and deepest philosophical questions about our role in the world. A great new friendship was born.

Unfortunately, our friendship was not long. One day a mutual friend called me crying on the phone. Leo took a gun and ended his life. He committed suicide and left a letter telling his parents that he could not live a life of lies. He could not remain silent that he was homosexual and feel the rejection, the malicious remarks and mockery of his acquaintances. He ended his life and I realized that God was giving me a lesson putting in my way a confused and frightened angel who decided to die rather than face ignorance, homophobia, and rejection from his family and society.
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Why Me?

Oct 11th, 2010 02:45 PM By Stefano

I always knew it. My first dream in love I was perhaps six years old. It is nature. At school, behind the church, kids wanted to rape me. It was a private school ran by catholic priests. We went to church on Friday before the weekend. I was 8 and these kids, all in a gang, got busy finding the stick and others held me down. I prayed and all the other kids left the bully alone, they tried to free me, but he was bigger.

Years later, my father, mother and sister pulled me out of my home and took me to a drug store and said to me “pull down your pants this guy is gonna fix you”. What is going on? and my father with his military dominance made me get shots of male hormones. It was painful! getting that injection and humiliating. I felt raped, my sexuality violated and my spirit destroyed. I cried. I ran away.

Today, I need their help with a kidney transplant. Back home a neighbor told me my parents said I had passed away. I asked them for a kidney and all they said was: “help you? a man like you? we do not help your kind, but do tell us when you die who will inherit your home? I want it” said Mom.

For Erica

Oct 11th, 2010 02:39 PM By Elle

One of my best friends back in high school was born Eric, but knew that she was really Erica. At six years old she tried to cut off her penis with a butcher knife because she knew it didn’t belong there.

I met her as Erica and if she hadn’t told me her story I would have thought that she was simply a late blooming girl. She took hormones to keep her from developing as a male but was not allowed to actually start transitioning genders until she was 18.

At school, Erica was forced to change for gym in the male locker room because there were no unisex bathrooms. One day three of the football players had decided that they’d “had enough” of her not being a man and they gang raped her. Right there in the locker room. There were other people there and instead of trying to stop it, some of them stood there cheering.

I give a damn because when Erica brought it up to school officials absolutely nothing was done. One of my best friends was gang raped and even when she reported it nothing was done because she was told it was her own fault for acting so feminine.

I don’t want anyone else to ever have to go through what Erica went through. Something has to change.

My Father

Oct 11th, 2010 02:25 PM By anthony

I’m Anthony and I am 18 years old. I started to come out when I was going on 16 because I knew what I wanted. I told my mom, she accepted me the whole way and even said she would attend my wedding when I get lucky.

I was hiding it from my father because I was scared, he was in the military and he’s a very big guy. He calls me one day pissed off. I asked him what happened? He said take your gay S&*# off your MySpace. I stood quiet and I started to cry. Out of every one, he was the hardest to come out to.

So, I told him: “Dad I know this is gonna be harder for me then it is for you, but I’m gay.” He hung up on me. I hadn’t talked to him for 3 months. I then saw him at a family party, he pulled me to the side and he cried, saying he was sorry. He didn’t mean to be like that. This was the first time I ever saw my dad cry for anything, including crying about me.

He said it is hard as a father to have a gay son because the guys in my family have to get married to a girl and have kids. I said its harder for me because I have to live with being gay everyday and being worried if I’m gonna get jumped by someone.

So, I told him the only way I’m gonna forgive him is if he accepts me and supports it. I’m giving him time to still take it in, but he’s open about it a little. As long as he is making progress I am ok.

-Anthony “AJ” N.

What Do You Do When Your Father Is The Cause Of Your Pain?

Oct 10th, 2010 07:10 PM By Tyler

When I was 17 years old, I had a boyfriend named Alex. At this point in my life I was still in the closet, so he wasn’t introduced to my family. My friends knew about Alex and I, but my family is so conservative and in the dark that it wasn’t the right time. After a nasty break up, Alex called my parents and told them all about our relationship. I was out with friends at the time and my dad called me, h told me I needed to get home.

I already knew what had happened. My two girlfriends went home with me to support me and try to help me talk to my parents. When we got to my house my dad fought off my friends and kicked them out of our house. After an hour or so of yelling and arguing about how I was “ruining the family name,” I decided enough was enough so I got up to leave. My dad threw me down the staircase, which broke two of my ribs and gave me a concussion. He then went to the bottom of the stairs and kicked and punched “the gay out of” me. Bleeding and barely conscience I stayed at the end of the stairs for nearly 48 hours until I was able to get up and drive myself to the hospital. I had 3 broken ribs, a broken wrist and a concussion along with cuts and bruises.

After the incident I went on to college, joined the military and my life became “straight” again, even though I knew that wasn’t the case. In March of this year, I became engaged to the love of my life and my family decided that was the last straw, so I am no longer in contact with them. I am the happiest person alive however!