Thinking about it, I didn't have nearly the same type of concrete demonstration about my own life. As I mentioned, I grew up hearing stories of the Holocaust. This, combined with other issues of my childhood, led to my having a visceral, limbic terror of mob violence. I'm smart, I'm attractive, and I'm female, and could very easily see myself the target of mindless, vindictive rage for no other reason than my being who I appeared to be. This helped contribute to a good portion of my childhood being spent trying to learn how to not be intimidating or offensive.
But I think the only time I really felt personally threatened wasn't until I was already an adult (24) when I was living in Belgrade in '93, terrified that someone would beat the crap out of me because I was an American.
Anyway, I guess it boils down to: I have just enough of a gut reaction to empathize, but damn, Jim. No one should ever have had to have gone through what you did. FWIW, I think we have made progress -- but we're
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I was actually wondering how real that threat was to people of Jewish descent (and likewise Gypsies and other groups who went to the death camps). It's interesting to me (in a morbid way) how the experiences of different minority groups are similar and different. What actually prompted this self-reflection was seeing all the comments on the L.A. Times blogs saying that being gay is nothing like being black because gay people never got lynched, which brought this experience to the forefront of my mind...
Well, I have to admit that I don't remember stories of gays being lynched. Usually they were just beaten to death. :\
On a more positive note, even though we live in a pretty conservative town, one of the guys on last year's Homecoming court at the high school was openly gay. We thought that was pretty cool.
I can't say I grew up feeling safe, but it was an entirely different context and not "in fear for my life" (sanity, yes; life, not so much). I also knew there was going to be a definitive "light at the end of the tunnel" - I even had a date (when I moved out) so there are aspects that are totally different.
But it was just enough for me to relate by extrapolation to most of the minority "powerless" responses/fears in our society. The passage of Prop 8 was eye-opening for E in that regard - he wasn't used to that feeling. The fact that I didn't even stumble on it probably means I have a long way to go still in feeling safe or powerful in my life. I can only imagine what that means for you in comparison.
In a lot of ways, I had an end date, too, because California was (at the time) regarded as gay-friendly, and I knew I was going to go to California for college one way or another.
This is something to which I deeply, viscerally relate for obvious reasons. There simply were no Jews where I was growing up. They were all dead. If they weren't dead already somehow, they were just missed and would be dead soon. If I was a Jew, I was dead. In fact, I should never even have been born. The only people I have ever found in the US who could relate to my experience of being "in the closet" for fear of my life have been in the LGBT community. I was one of the first openly straight coordinators for HRC in the LA area (if not the first). Nobody ever really understood why, and I could never explain it very clearly.
You had structured external threats. That kind didn't bother me. They were nothing I couldn't run from. I got to live with mine.
I think I got the first concussion that I remember when I was about 8 when I was bounced off of a concrete block wall, and the last one was when I was 15 (hammer handle to the back of the head). Once my oldest brother got the back of his head opened up with a pair of thrown pliers. When Father came home, we tried to stay out of sight.
People would say he loved us "in his own way."
He wasn't trying to kill us - but hey! Accidents happen! (Like the time he had me hold on to the lawn mower plug wire and then pulled the starter rope - the juice knocked me down a set of concrete stairs and he thought it was funny - once he determined I was still alive.)
Oh, don't get me wrong, home wasn't any safer. Not as bad as what you're describing, of course, but certainly not someplace I could let my guard down...
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I'm so sorry you experienced that.
Thinking about it, I didn't have nearly the same type of concrete demonstration about my own life. As I mentioned, I grew up hearing stories of the Holocaust. This, combined with other issues of my childhood, led to my having a visceral, limbic terror of mob violence. I'm smart, I'm attractive, and I'm female, and could very easily see myself the target of mindless, vindictive rage for no other reason than my being who I appeared to be. This helped contribute to a good portion of my childhood being spent trying to learn how to not be intimidating or offensive.
But I think the only time I really felt personally threatened wasn't until I was already an adult (24) when I was living in Belgrade in '93, terrified that someone would beat the crap out of me because I was an American.
Anyway, I guess it boils down to: I have just enough of a gut reaction to empathize, but damn, Jim. No one should ever have had to have gone through what you did. FWIW, I think we have made progress -- but we're ( ... )
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On a more positive note, even though we live in a pretty conservative town, one of the guys on last year's Homecoming court at the high school was openly gay. We thought that was pretty cool.
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But it was just enough for me to relate by extrapolation to most of the minority "powerless" responses/fears in our society. The passage of Prop 8 was eye-opening for E in that regard - he wasn't used to that feeling. The fact that I didn't even stumble on it probably means I have a long way to go still in feeling safe or powerful in my life. I can only imagine what that means for you in comparison.
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I think I got the first concussion that I remember when I was about 8 when I was bounced off of a concrete block wall, and the last one was when I was 15 (hammer handle to the back of the head). Once my oldest brother got the back of his head opened up with a pair of thrown pliers. When Father came home, we tried to stay out of sight.
People would say he loved us "in his own way."
He wasn't trying to kill us - but hey! Accidents happen! (Like the time he had me hold on to the lawn mower plug wire and then pulled the starter rope - the juice knocked me down a set of concrete stairs and he thought it was funny - once he determined I was still alive.)
Wanna trade threats?
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For the longest time I used to listen to Pat Benatar's Hell is for Children because that was the truth of mine.
I wasn't safe. I do everything I can to change that for others.
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