Some Wore White
Using one of the quotes below (or your own favorite quotation) as a jumping off point, tell us about an event or experience that helped you define one of your values.
But what do I consider my values? Are passion and determination values? Because I could certainly write about how those impacted my life. When I initially read this question, I thought I should write about the first Day of Silence in which I participated. I hadn't been participating in GSA at the time -- to tell the truth, I was too afraid that the new friends I'd earned over the course of my first two years at Mission would shun me for it. Now, I know that those friends a) probably wouldn't have shunned me because their values matched mine but were just being less expressed, or b) weren't really meant to be friends, and that participating openly could have helped me shake them off sooner. But at the time I did it, I was almost...scared. I didn't know what people would think of me, and that was difficult.
But sophomore year was the year I met Tony, and being around him and seeing how intelligent and ridiculous he was, how wonderful and laughable and human he was, made me realize that all of the divisions others were busy erecting had nothing to do with the real world. Sexuality and personality are completely separate, and that year I was provided with the chance to know Tony for the first time -- not just as "that smart kid who wears scarves," but as the kid in five of my classes, who shared my interests and understood my idiosyncracies, whose words were in harmony with my own love of language and whose follies, though humbling, were also victories over perfection. I think that if everyone in the world could get to know some of the people I know in the ways that I know them, they would have their eyes opened.
But back to the day. I remember the first signs of its going on were Tony and Jared running around, battling the administration for the right to celebrate respect for unity in a diverse world. I remember thinking how absolutely ridiculous it was for people to even try to argue that something as well-meaning as the Day of Silence could cause harm.
And after living through that day, I knew that the only pain caused was the pain that some felt when they were forced to open their eyes to the reality of acceptance and respectful love that existsed all around them -- and, potentially (if some of them dug deep enough), within them. That one day was an eye-opener: not just for those who watched as a mass of people, dressed all in black, ate lunch in the middle of the quad in silence, but also for the participants, like myself, who realized that sometimes the best way to make use of freedom of speech is to say nothing at all.
This year will be the third year that the Gay-Straight Alliance at my school has hosted a Day of Silence, as well as my third year as a participant, and I'm proud of that. In the past, we've received sprinkled opposition from those I can't understand -- those people who have the nerve to come to school wearing, not all black, but all white. I hurt for them and for the open-minded nature they do not understand. This year, it's been rumored that the Christian Ministries club on campus intends to put on a "Day of Truth" in opposition to our Day of Silence. Their plans are to wear all white and tell everyone they see about the follies of our over-tolerance -- because apparently, it's wrong to love everyone for who they are. Some members of GSA have said that we should protest their day as they have always protested ours. Myself, I don't agree with this. They have just as much a right to their message as we do to ours, and I think we look better if we show them we have the ability to be that much more mature and accepting. I know that on whatever day they schedule, I'll come wearing white -- a hand-made shirt bearing simply the words, "'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater..."
But what do I consider my values? Are passion and determination values? Because I could certainly write about how those impacted my life. When I initially read this question, I thought I should write about the first Day of Silence in which I participated. I hadn't been participating in GSA at the time -- to tell the truth, I was too afraid that the new friends I'd earned over the course of my first two years at Mission would shun me for it. Now, I know that those friends a) probably wouldn't have shunned me because their values matched mine but were just being less expressed, or b) weren't really meant to be friends, and that participating openly could have helped me shake them off sooner. But at the time I did it, I was almost...scared. I didn't know what people would think of me, and that was difficult.
But sophomore year was the year I met Tony, and being around him and seeing how intelligent and ridiculous he was, how wonderful and laughable and human he was, made me realize that all of the divisions others were busy erecting had nothing to do with the real world. Sexuality and personality are completely separate, and that year I was provided with the chance to know Tony for the first time -- not just as "that smart kid who wears scarves," but as the kid in five of my classes, who shared my interests and understood my idiosyncracies, whose words were in harmony with my own love of language and whose follies, though humbling, were also victories over perfection. I think that if everyone in the world could get to know some of the people I know in the ways that I know them, they would have their eyes opened.
But back to the day. I remember the first signs of its going on were Tony and Jared running around, battling the administration for the right to celebrate respect for unity in a diverse world. I remember thinking how absolutely ridiculous it was for people to even try to argue that something as well-meaning as the Day of Silence could cause harm.
And after living through that day, I knew that the only pain caused was the pain that some felt when they were forced to open their eyes to the reality of acceptance and respectful love that existsed all around them -- and, potentially (if some of them dug deep enough), within them. That one day was an eye-opener: not just for those who watched as a mass of people, dressed all in black, ate lunch in the middle of the quad in silence, but also for the participants, like myself, who realized that sometimes the best way to make use of freedom of speech is to say nothing at all.
This year will be the third year that the Gay-Straight Alliance at my school has hosted a Day of Silence, as well as my third year as a participant, and I'm proud of that. In the past, we've received sprinkled opposition from those I can't understand -- those people who have the nerve to come to school wearing, not all black, but all white. I hurt for them and for the open-minded nature they do not understand. This year, it's been rumored that the Christian Ministries club on campus intends to put on a "Day of Truth" in opposition to our Day of Silence. Their plans are to wear all white and tell everyone they see about the follies of our over-tolerance -- because apparently, it's wrong to love everyone for who they are. Some members of GSA have said that we should protest their day as they have always protested ours. Myself, I don't agree with this. They have just as much a right to their message as we do to ours, and I think we look better if we show them we have the ability to be that much more mature and accepting. I know that on whatever day they schedule, I'll come wearing white -- a hand-made shirt bearing simply the words, "'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater..."