Mister McCance-It goes far beyond whether or not you think being gay is right or wrong. It goes far beyond your inhumane remarks. It goes way beyond your hypocritical rants as a so called Christian. It goes beyond your inability to see past a person's exterior and into the heart of their being-who they really are. And, if you sir believe it is necessary to "kill fags" because of your inability to see that people are living, breathing, and trying in earnest to contribute to the human good-than you sir are the "sick one". You are the one who has been beaten down, and kicked by the so called Christians you say support your ignorance. God bless you as you struggle to become accepted among the human race-you will have a long and hard fight ahead of you.
http://https://secure3.convio.net/hrc/site/Advocacy?cmd=display&page=UserAction&id=959
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
And....again
Once my seventh grade year arrived, the taunting only intensified. It seemed as though the circle of bullies had grown over the summer, and the church friends continued their retreat. Prior to coming back to school that year-I along with my church youth group had attended a summer camp in the Blue Ridge Mountains outside of Asheville, North Carolina. During that trip we bonded and became stronger-or so I thought. However, once school reconvened-those bonds were gone and so were the people.
I was sitting in my seventh grade math class one morning when Jon Patton, the "newest bully" began saying things to me like "you faggot" and "sissy boy". Unfortunately, this kid would be scheduled in every one of my classes that year and for whatever reason, our seats in class were always in taunting proximity.
On this day in math class-Jon decided he would take his taunting one step further. Right at the end of class when the teacher had her back turned Jon picked up his math textbook (a rather large hard bound book) and slammed it into the back of my head. At first I didn't know what had hit me. I blacked out for a second and then realized he had hit me with his book. Then, the bell rang and everyone left the room laughing. I walked to the front of the class to tell my teacher. She was stunned and upset-the blow to my head had left a huge knot. She immediately took me to the office-there I had to give an account of what happened.
The principal still indifferent to the situation called Jon to the office and had a chat with him. Huge mistake on my part. Jon was given a reprimand and allowed to stay in detention after school. The next day he was back in class. From there you can only imagine.
The rest of my seventh grade year, saw my clothes getting stolen and thrown in the trash can during gym class, my school supplied being taken and place in the toilet in the boy's bathroom, and my weight increasing a hundred fold because I was so stressed.
At this point-I honestly wanted to "go away".
I was sitting in my seventh grade math class one morning when Jon Patton, the "newest bully" began saying things to me like "you faggot" and "sissy boy". Unfortunately, this kid would be scheduled in every one of my classes that year and for whatever reason, our seats in class were always in taunting proximity.
On this day in math class-Jon decided he would take his taunting one step further. Right at the end of class when the teacher had her back turned Jon picked up his math textbook (a rather large hard bound book) and slammed it into the back of my head. At first I didn't know what had hit me. I blacked out for a second and then realized he had hit me with his book. Then, the bell rang and everyone left the room laughing. I walked to the front of the class to tell my teacher. She was stunned and upset-the blow to my head had left a huge knot. She immediately took me to the office-there I had to give an account of what happened.
The principal still indifferent to the situation called Jon to the office and had a chat with him. Huge mistake on my part. Jon was given a reprimand and allowed to stay in detention after school. The next day he was back in class. From there you can only imagine.
The rest of my seventh grade year, saw my clothes getting stolen and thrown in the trash can during gym class, my school supplied being taken and place in the toilet in the boy's bathroom, and my weight increasing a hundred fold because I was so stressed.
At this point-I honestly wanted to "go away".
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
But then...again
As the sixth grade year began to take its leave, I was never so happy that the summer was within reach. At least for a few short weeks, I would be free of the stress of these kids who found it increasingly fun to taunt me and shout things in my direction everyday. After seeking help from school counselors, administrators and teachers-I soon realized that none of them were in any way prepared to help the situation. I cried most nights about what was happening to me at school, and would often pretend to be "sick" so that I wouldn't have to go the next day. Most of my friends who I had had in elementary school had fled, a few stayed by my side-but only for a brief while. When it wasn't cool to be seen with the "queer kid" they fled too.
Perhaps the hardest of friends to whom this hide and seek "game" was part of their day, were my "church friends". I grew up in a Southern Baptist church, and was there every time the doors were opened. I was very involved in the youth group and singing in the choir. Church, was sort of a haven for me-a place where I could be in secret who I was-and outwardly who everyone wanted me to be. These so called "church friends" from the youth group would be my best buddies at church, but come Monday-they barely looked at me much less spoke to me.
The last day of my sixth grade year, one of my "best friends" from church-Scott, came up to me during field day and along with some other kids, started laughing at me and one kid, Bob-shouted out "Jason's gay". They all laughed. I walked away and sat on the hill beside the field, and just watched the events of the day. When it was my turn to participate in a relay, I made my way to the line. When it was my turn to run-I fell. No-I didn't fall because of that sixth grade awkwardness-I fell because Scott had tripped me. I ruined the entire relay.
Scott would go on later in our adult lives to out me to an entire congregation of Southern Baptists in Frankfort, KY the town where we grew up. From that "outing" the pastor of the congregation called me at my office one day-and literally told me I was going to hell and that I was no longer a member of that congregation. This would be an impetus to a huge divide in a congregation that was moving forward. Now, the congregation has dwindled-the church is stagnant and the church where Scott now attends-well that's where my father goes, and they "pray for me" all the time-that I won't be gay anymore. Now-that's love (don't you think)?
As for me-we'll chat later about my involvement in a wonderful congregation.
Perhaps the hardest of friends to whom this hide and seek "game" was part of their day, were my "church friends". I grew up in a Southern Baptist church, and was there every time the doors were opened. I was very involved in the youth group and singing in the choir. Church, was sort of a haven for me-a place where I could be in secret who I was-and outwardly who everyone wanted me to be. These so called "church friends" from the youth group would be my best buddies at church, but come Monday-they barely looked at me much less spoke to me.
The last day of my sixth grade year, one of my "best friends" from church-Scott, came up to me during field day and along with some other kids, started laughing at me and one kid, Bob-shouted out "Jason's gay". They all laughed. I walked away and sat on the hill beside the field, and just watched the events of the day. When it was my turn to participate in a relay, I made my way to the line. When it was my turn to run-I fell. No-I didn't fall because of that sixth grade awkwardness-I fell because Scott had tripped me. I ruined the entire relay.
Scott would go on later in our adult lives to out me to an entire congregation of Southern Baptists in Frankfort, KY the town where we grew up. From that "outing" the pastor of the congregation called me at my office one day-and literally told me I was going to hell and that I was no longer a member of that congregation. This would be an impetus to a huge divide in a congregation that was moving forward. Now, the congregation has dwindled-the church is stagnant and the church where Scott now attends-well that's where my father goes, and they "pray for me" all the time-that I won't be gay anymore. Now-that's love (don't you think)?
As for me-we'll chat later about my involvement in a wonderful congregation.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Bullies-they're everywhere!
I won't soon forget my time in middle school and high school. Some twenty years later the memories of what I endured during those years are forever etched in my mind. I grew up in a time when "gay" was just beginning to pick up momentum and "turn heads". Yet, I was still too young to realize what I was feeling.
When I started middle school, the very first day-Scott Woodward began to call me "faggot". That would be the beginning of what would cause me to become a chameleon of sorts and begin the process of trying in earnest to blend in and adapt so as not to be noticed. It was a fretful way of living. In the years leading up to middle school, I was a popular kid. Even through the divorce of my parents, and my father's poor handling of our family business and his desire to be involved with the "ladies" (yes in quotes-because they weren't really ladies in my mind rather-they were those -ummm what'dya call 'em begins with a w---and ends with an e) which torn our family to shreds-I maintained a bright exciting childhood.
On the first day of sixth grade, I hadn't been in the school and in my home room more than an hour until Scott started his name calling. I didn't really know what to make of what he was saying nor was I even sure of what it meant. At lunch that day-he took ketchup and squirted it all over my brand new shirt and shorts (my mom had worked hard to provide) and all the kids laughed. I didn't cry although I wanted too-rather I sat there and ate my lunch.
When I got to school the next day-Scott and one of his friends, Stanley met me in the front hallway. Once the bell had rung and we were walking down the hall to our first class-Stanley came behind and picked me up and carried me down the hall and threw me in the ladies restroom and stood in the doorway so I couldn't get out. Once I finally was able to get past the crowd of kids laughing at me-Mr. Simpson, the school principal walked past me. I got in trouble and was told to go to the Principal's office. After sitting there for what seemed like forever, Mr. Simpson asked why I was in the restroom-I tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen. I got in trouble and was required to go to in school suspension that day. This was only the beginning.
When I started middle school, the very first day-Scott Woodward began to call me "faggot". That would be the beginning of what would cause me to become a chameleon of sorts and begin the process of trying in earnest to blend in and adapt so as not to be noticed. It was a fretful way of living. In the years leading up to middle school, I was a popular kid. Even through the divorce of my parents, and my father's poor handling of our family business and his desire to be involved with the "ladies" (yes in quotes-because they weren't really ladies in my mind rather-they were those -ummm what'dya call 'em begins with a w---and ends with an e) which torn our family to shreds-I maintained a bright exciting childhood.
On the first day of sixth grade, I hadn't been in the school and in my home room more than an hour until Scott started his name calling. I didn't really know what to make of what he was saying nor was I even sure of what it meant. At lunch that day-he took ketchup and squirted it all over my brand new shirt and shorts (my mom had worked hard to provide) and all the kids laughed. I didn't cry although I wanted too-rather I sat there and ate my lunch.
When I got to school the next day-Scott and one of his friends, Stanley met me in the front hallway. Once the bell had rung and we were walking down the hall to our first class-Stanley came behind and picked me up and carried me down the hall and threw me in the ladies restroom and stood in the doorway so I couldn't get out. Once I finally was able to get past the crowd of kids laughing at me-Mr. Simpson, the school principal walked past me. I got in trouble and was told to go to the Principal's office. After sitting there for what seemed like forever, Mr. Simpson asked why I was in the restroom-I tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen. I got in trouble and was required to go to in school suspension that day. This was only the beginning.
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