On this day of silence, I write
Today is the national day of silence. Today millions of high school kids will refuse to talk, in solidarity of their classmates and peer who suffer in silence from bullying, particularly bullying because sexual orientation.
This year the girlchild decided to participate. Officially her school is not (only the high school kids do, not the middle school) but she wanted to go ahead. This morning I got up to find her with her rainbow tank-top on, trying to put my rainbow bandana in her hair. Not that either one of these things are unusual, she likes the colours, but this morning it was deliberate.
She had mentioned, earlier, that she wasn’t sure if she needed to participate, because none of the kids in her class were gay. I explained how this was actually quite unlikely, but either they weren’t aware yet (being only 11) or they feared saying anything…. that they were silent. Her eyes got really wide like she’d never considered that one might be afraid to say that you are gay. And then she got this very, very determined look - she was going to protect her classmates. Even if she wasn’t sure which ones.
I watched her go and couldn’t help but think how different her experience was to mine. By the time I was her age I had know for a few years I was gay, but also new damn well not to say anything. I lived that silence. I lived that silence for ten years, and even after that the silence affected my life for many more years. I doubt my relationship with my parents will ever truly recover from that silence.
The school had a sign on the front door, this week. It simply stated a request that you not taunt the students, nor make them try to talk if they were participating in the day of silence. It was decorated by hand with bright and cheerful rainbows. I wish we could simply not taunt the students all year round. But maybe, maybe some students are now growing up who will not face the same silence that I did. It’s a comforting thought.
This year the girlchild decided to participate. Officially her school is not (only the high school kids do, not the middle school) but she wanted to go ahead. This morning I got up to find her with her rainbow tank-top on, trying to put my rainbow bandana in her hair. Not that either one of these things are unusual, she likes the colours, but this morning it was deliberate.
She had mentioned, earlier, that she wasn’t sure if she needed to participate, because none of the kids in her class were gay. I explained how this was actually quite unlikely, but either they weren’t aware yet (being only 11) or they feared saying anything…. that they were silent. Her eyes got really wide like she’d never considered that one might be afraid to say that you are gay. And then she got this very, very determined look - she was going to protect her classmates. Even if she wasn’t sure which ones.
I watched her go and couldn’t help but think how different her experience was to mine. By the time I was her age I had know for a few years I was gay, but also new damn well not to say anything. I lived that silence. I lived that silence for ten years, and even after that the silence affected my life for many more years. I doubt my relationship with my parents will ever truly recover from that silence.
The school had a sign on the front door, this week. It simply stated a request that you not taunt the students, nor make them try to talk if they were participating in the day of silence. It was decorated by hand with bright and cheerful rainbows. I wish we could simply not taunt the students all year round. But maybe, maybe some students are now growing up who will not face the same silence that I did. It’s a comforting thought.