Who’s To Blame?
By:
BW
(© 2012 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
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I entered the cafeteria and walked to the front of the room, so I could address the students. The principal had all the eighth-graders assemble at this location, so I could address them.
“Good Morning. Some of you may already know me, but let me introduce myself to those who don’t. I’m Mrs. Patrick, the school Psychologist,” I began, “and I’m here to talk to you about the incident that occurred last night.”
I wasn’t certain if every student had heard the news yet, so when I saw an assortment of puzzled expressions on the faces in front of me, it appeared that my hunch was correct. Not everyone had been apprised about the events of the previous evening.
“I take it that not all of you know what happened to Jamie Broderick, one of your classmates, then?”
A few heads began to shake in response, while some of the other students began to look toward their neighbors for a clue as to what I was talking about. This helped to confirm my suspicions, so I felt it would be best if I carefully broke the news to them, rather than have one of the other students tell them about what had taken place.
“I’m sorry to inform you that Jamie will not be returning to school and is no longer with us,” I began,
I hesitated very briefly after saying this, but one of the youngsters asked a question before I had a chance to continue my explanation.
“Why? Is he going to another school instead,” a bespectacled, blond-haired girl asked.
“No, he’s dead,” a raven hair boy near her blurted out, rather tersely.
“What happened?” she followed. It was obvious this girl had not heard about this, but was concerned.
“He killed himself,” the raven-haired boy answered.
“What?” the girl shouted back, as her jaw hung open in disbelief.
“He hung himself, so get over it!” the raven-haired boy suggested, while attempting to give a visual reenactment of what took place.
“Unfortunately, Jamie took his own life last night,” I jumped in, before this conversation got completely out of hand. “I’m here to help you deal with any feelings you might have about what he did. Your principal and teachers thought I should address this situation with you, in case you are having trouble coping with Jamie’s loss.”
“Trust me. We don’t need any grief counseling,” the raven-haired boy quipped back. “I’m pretty sure none of us are too upset about the fag offing himself.”
“Yeah, just one less flamer for us to have to deal with,” a shaggy brown-haired boy added.
“Do any of you feel differently about this?” I followed. “Were any of you friends with Jamie?”
“I don’t think he had many friends,” one shy redheaded girl stated, barely audibly, “but he hung out with me and a few of my friends sometimes. We would invite him to sit with us at lunch when we saw he needed somewhere to go.”
“Of course you did,” a boy with short brown hair shouted. “He was just another of your girl friends. He would join you because he knew none of us guys wanted him anywhere near us,”
“What exactly was it that made the rest of you dislike Jamie so much?” I followed.
“Just about everything,” the shaggy brown-haired boy offered. “He talked funny, dressed weird and spent too much time reading stupid books. He was also terrible when it came to doing anything that required you to have some coordination.”
“Let’s take each of those things separately,” I suggested. “Why do you think he talked funny?”
“He just had a weird way of saying things,” a blond boy offered. “He would use really gay words to describe stuff, but he would also make these really strange faces and get all freaky acting when talking about different crap.”
“Yeah, most of the time he sounded more like my grandparents on helium and he also made really retarded faces and gestures. He just didn’t act like the rest of the guys our age,” the boy with short brown hair interjected.
“He would get really excited when he was talking,” the shaggy brown-haired boy added, “and his arms would start flying around like he was fighting off a swarm of bugs, whenever he was telling someone about the things he liked,”
“Yeah, and his voice would get really high and he’d start talking really fast when he was talking about some stupid, gay TV program, like Glee, or going on about a new shirt his mother had just bought him,” a boy with sandy blond hair added.
“And none of the rest of you ever get excited or overreact when you talk about things you’re interested in?” I wondered.
“Not like he did and we don’t talk about gay shit,” the blond-haired boy added. “He would start talking so fast that spit would fly out of his mouth and his voice would get so high that even the dogs ran away. No one could stand listening to him when he got like that, except for maybe some of the girls.”
“Yeah, he never wanted to talk about normal stuff, like girls, sports, cars or things like that,” a rather tall boy added. “He just wanted to talk about his clothes, chick flicks, gay shows, singing and crap like that. He was never into guy stuff.”
“So he didn’t fit into your concept of what a boy should be interested in or talked like you thought he should?” I questioned.
“It was like talking to some girl, except he didn’t have the right equipment,” the boy with short brown hair joked.
“And I think I saw him checking me out and trying to get a look at my dick while I was taking a leak in the men’s room,” the tall boy stated next.
This caused several of the other boys to laugh and start cracking jokes after they heard this statement. I even overheard a few comments using phrases like ‘cocksucker’, ‘rump ranger’ and ‘fudge packer,’ so I felt it was time to put an end to the current focus of the conversation.
“So why do you think Jamie dressed funny?” I asked, in an effort to change the topic.
“He liked to wear shirts in faggy colors or really outrageous designs,” the sandy blond-haired mentioned, “and the types of clothes and shoes he wore weren’t like any of the stuff the rest of us guys liked. We wouldn’t be caught dead wearing the crap he thought was cool.”
“And he liked to wear jewelry, but not guy stuff,” another added. “He had this diamond earring he was really proud of and liked to showoff, and the chains he wore looked more like they were necklaces the girls would wear, instead of bling a guy might choose.”
“And when he walked his hips would sway from side to side, like girl’s hips do,” the shaggy brown-haired boy stated.
“And he also ran, threw and caught like a freakin’ baby, not like a real boy,” a redheaded boy with glasses added. “He was a total disaster when it came to P.E. class and no one ever wanted him on their team.”
“Yeah, and he always tucked his shirts in too, even when we were in gym class,” another boy stated. “It just wasn’t natural and it made him look even more like a fag.”
“Someone mentioned that Jamie liked to read, but said he liked to read stupid books,” I reiterated, while attempting to move on to the next point. “Why were the books he read stupid or are you telling me you thought it was gay because he liked to read?”
“It wasn’t just because he liked to read,” one boy offered. “It had more to do with the types of things he read. He liked to read the kind of crap we were assigned in English class, not the good stuff. He even liked Shakespeare!”
“Yes, I heard he liked to read classical literature, but he read other types of materials as well,” I explained. “I’ve talked to some of Jamie’s teachers and they advised me that he was an avid reader and read many different materials, not just the classics. He also read the Harry Potter series and the Twilight books, as well.”
“But reading that other stuff just isn’t normal,” someone shouted back.
“You might be surprised by what you can learn from those stories,” I offered, “but that’s another discussion. So because you thought he talked funny, dressed differently, read classical literature and wasn’t very good at sports, these were the reasons that many of you didn’t like him?” I pressed.
“That and the way he would look at us,” a sandy-haired boy with glasses and a slight overbite jeered. “There were times when I was afraid he was going to try to hug or kiss me.”
“Did any of you like Jamie or anything about him?” I pressed the others in the class.
“He was a good singer and had a nice voice,” one dark-haired girl piped up.
“And he could dance pretty well too,” another girl chimed in. “He had really good rhythm.
“When he spent time with some of my friends and me,” the first girl added, “I think we all found him pretty interesting most of the time. He knew a lot about music and what groups were hot.”
“Yeah, you liked him because he was a real queen and wanted to talk about all of that girl crap,” the boy with short brown hair jeered. “I bet you could even talk to him about who you thought the good-looking boys were too.”
This last comment elicited another round of other snide comments and snickers.
“The reason I came here today is because Jamie’s parents are claiming he committed suicide because the school didn’t do enough to prevent him from being bullied,” I stated. “What do you think about that?”
No one said anything for a minute, until a fairly brave girl finally spoke up.
“The boys were really mean to him,” she stated. “They called him names, made fun of him, knocked things out of his hands or off his desk, and I even saw a few of them push Jamie around and even punch him.”
“Hey, we were just trying to toughen him up and stop him from acting like some effin faggot,” one of the boys challenged.
“He was in tears most of the time, because you guys wouldn’t leave him alone,” she shot back. “You were always doing mean stuff to him and saying rotten things about him.”
“They weren’t rotten, just true,” the boy sneered.
“Jamie told me some of you were sending him awful text messages and posting rotten and hateful messages on his Facebook wall,” she added. “When Jamie deleted everything and began blocking people, someone opened another page pretending to be him and posted all kinds of horrible comments about him there.”
“What? He couldn’t take a joke?” someone retorted.
“Jamie told me some of them were sending him emails asking if he wanted to do a bunch of different sex things,” someone else suggested. “We both thought they were hoping he’d answer them, so they could use those things against him too. He even showed me a couple of those emails and they were pretty raunchy.”
“So is being gay,” the sandy-haired boy with glasses and the overbite challenged.
“Do any of you feel responsible for what happened to Jamie, because of the things you or the others did to him?” I wondered.
“Why should we and who cares?” a boy asked, rhetorically. “Just one less ass bandit to have to deal with.”
“If he couldn’t stand who he was and refused to change, then he probably did the right thing when he killed himself,” the sandy-haired boy with glasses and the overbite offered.
“So you see nothing wrong or have no problems with the harassment Jamie endured or the fact that it might have driven him to commit suicide?” I challenged.
“Not really. We didn’t kill him,” the raven-haired boy answered. “He did that to himself!”
“Do any of you feel that Jamie might have been pushed toward choosing such an extreme solution, because he was called names, pushed around, bullied and made fun of, either in person or in cyberspace?” I countered, in an effort to make them think about the cause and effect relationship.
“I guess he just couldn’t deal with having so many faults,” the raven-haired boy shot back. “No one gave him the rope, tied the noose or put it around his neck. He did that.”
“So none of you feel that Jamie might have been pushed into doing what he did because of the way he was treated?” I pressed.
“No. Why should we?” he replied. “He just couldn’t stand hearing the truth about himself.”
After listening to that reply, I felt I needed to get some of the other students involved in this conversation and not just the alpha-males and a few of the girls. Therefore, I turned to one of the boys who’d been sitting quietly off to one side.
“What about you?” I asked a rather small blond who seemed to be trying to remain anonymous. .
“I never picked on Jamie,” he answered, very quickly.
“But did you ever stick up for Jamie or try to stop the others from picking on him?” I wondered.
He merely shook his head in response.
“Did you ever tell a teacher when you saw any of the others bullying Jamie?” I followed.
“No,” he replied simply, while lowering his head.
“Why not?” I wanted to know.
“Are you crazy?” he asked. “Then they’d start doing the same things to me.”
“Who would?” I followed.
“The guys that were picking on Jamie,” he replied. “I saw how they were treating him and I didn’t want them to turn on me next.”
“So you think these boys were treating Jamie unfairly,” I summarized.
“I didn’t say that,” the boy insisted.
“Then why were you afraid they would do the same thing to you?” I asked, for clarification.
“Because I saw how they made Jamie feel and I didn’t want to have them do that to me too,” he answered.
“So they were cruel to him?” I asserted.
“Well, they weren’t exactly being nice to him or trying to make him feel good about himself,” he responded. “I know Jamie didn’t believe the ‘It gets better’ crap when he had to put up with those boys terrorizing him every day, all day long.”
“Yes, I’m sure that was very rough for him to endure,” I commiserated. “So how many of you think of yourselves as Christians or feel you have strong religious beliefs?”
Nearly every hand in the room shot into the air.
“So do any of you see a problem with your religious beliefs and Christian teachings with what you were doing or allowing to happen to Jamie?” I wondered.
“Nah, because God doesn’t like fags either,” the sandy-haired boy with glasses and an overbite shot back.
“What about following the Golden Rule. Don’t you think you should have done as Jesus commanded when he said to treat others as you would like to be treated?” I challenged.
“I don’t think he was talking about butt bandits when he said that,” one of the other boys jeered.
“I don’t remember him giving a list of exceptions when he made that statement,” I corrected. “Jesus was telling us to treat everyone as we wished to be treated.”
No one responded to my comment, even though I gave the class quite a few seconds to do so.
“If you don’t think the Golden Rule applied, then what about ‘Thou shalt not kill’?” I mused.
“We didn’t kill him. He did that to himself,” someone fired back.
“Do you think those tormenting him may have pushed Jamie into killing himself? Did their actions possibly make Jamie feel that he had no other option but to hang himself, because he could no longer deal with the constant abuse?” I followed. “Do any of you think the things that were done to Jamie might have made him feel that there was no way he could escape what he was having to endure other than by killing himself?”
“We may have made him realize that he didn’t fit in and being gay was wrong,” the sandy-blond haired boy with glasses and an overbite replied.
“How would you feel if everyone started picking on you, calling you names and maybe even pushing you around or hitting you?” I challenged the most vocal in the group.
“They wouldn’t do that, because I’d beat the crap out of them,” the raven-haired boy answered. “Besides, I’m not a weirdo like Jamie was.”
“What if suddenly the things you were interested in were thought to be unmanly or childish and the other boys began picking on you because of it?” I followed.
“That wouldn’t happen,” he responded.
“But what if it did?” I persisted. “Would you give up everything you liked or change who you are just because everyone else thought it was wrong or not cool?”
“No, I’d beat the shit out of them instead!” he shot back.
“What if the ones picking on you were bigger and stronger?” I pressed.
“What if they treated you the same way Jamie was treated, then how would you react?”
“I wouldn’t run home and cry about it,” he sneered.
“Maybe you wouldn’t cry, but wouldn’t you feel badly if everyone else turned on you and no one was nice?” I continued. “How would you feel knowing that you had to come back and face that type of abuse and humiliation day after day?”
“I don’t think anything like that will ever happen,” he finally offered, after thinking about it for a few seconds, “but if it did, I’d probably have my parents send me to another school,”
“And what if the same thing happened there?” I asked next. “What if it was the same no matter where you went?”
“That’s not going to happen,” he insisted.
“But what if it did?” I challenged. “What if things got as bad for you as it was for Jamie? Would you end up doing what he did?”
“No!” the raven-haired boy replied, forcefully.
Regardless of what he’d said or how loudly he’d said it, his voice didn’t sound convincing and the look on his face told me he had some doubts about how he would respond to such a situation. Slowly, I saw him lower his head and I could almost see the wheels beginning to turn inside. I believe he was even starting to question whether he might have also opted to do what Jamie had done, if everyone suddenly turned on him.
The rest of the students in the room were very quiet as well. I noted that many of them were beginning to slyly glance around at their neighbors to see if they could figure out how their classmates were also reacting to this suggestion. What would they have chosen to do if everyone else suddenly began turning on them?
“Well, I didn’t pick on him, so I don’t feel guilty,” one of the girls stated, after a lengthy silence in the room.
“Then let me ask you a different question,” I followed. “Did you do anything to stop what was happening to Jamie?”
“I couldn’t help him or stop the boys from doing those things to him,” she replied, “but I wasn’t mean to him. I even asked him to join me and my friends sometimes.”
“Yes, and I’ll give you credit for being nice to him,” I replied, “but do you think that was enough?”
“I couldn’t fight the boys or make them stop picking on him, so what could I do?” she countered.
“You could have reported what you saw happening to a teacher or the principal. You could have told them about what you saw the boys doing to Jamie,” I suggested. “Did you ever do that?”
“No, but if Jamie didn’t like how the others were treating him, then he could have told the teachers about it,” she replied.
“And I understand he did that, but since no one else thought it was bad enough to report to the teachers, they didn’t feel it was a big problem,” I explained. “Since the boys weren’t doing this when there were any adults around, the teachers didn’t realize how bad it was getting for Jamie. Do you think that if you had said something to one of them then they might have done more to help Jamie?”
“If we did that, then the others would have started picking on us for being a snitch,” she responded, after a brief hesitation.
“What about the rest of you? Do any of you now think that you could have done more to help Jamie?” I followed.
“We didn’t want to get involved, because then those boys might have started picking on us too,” a rather small, dark-haired boy answered.
“Ok, then let me present you with another example,” I offered. “Let’s say you were walking home alone one day when someone suddenly began to attack you. Let’s assume this person was much bigger, stronger and possibly even had a weapon he could use to harm you, so you’re trying to get away and screaming for help. How would you feel if you saw others outside or looking out their windows and they were able to see what was happening, but no one was making a move to help protect you from the attacker? They weren’t even calling the police to let them know what is going on, so you’re totally at the mercy of someone bigger and stronger than you. Do you think this would be right?”
No one responded right away, but I could see what appeared to be guilty expressions on some of their faces. Not only that, but they were trying not to make eye contact with me either, because they thought I might call on them if they did. Noting this, I felt my message might finally have been starting to get through.
“Don’t any of you have an opinion about this?” I prodded. “How would you feel if this was happening and no one tried to help you? Do you think it would be ok for others who saw what was going on to just ignore the situation?”
“No. Maybe they couldn’t stop it by themselves, but they should at least call 911 for help,” someone else offered.
“Yeah, if someone reported it to the police, then maybe the man would be scared off when he heard the sirens or saw the flashing lights of the police cars when they got close,” one of the girls added. “The man might just run away before he was able to hurt you really bad.”
“Yes, you might be correct about that,” I agreed. “So let me ask you If what was happening to Jamie was any different? If you had reported what the others were doing to him, do you think it might have changed things enough so he wouldn’t have considered killing himself?”
“Maybe,” she offered, timidly. “I guess if the teachers had made the boys stop picking on him then Jamie wouldn’t have felt that the situation was so hopeless or thought he needed to do that to end his problem.”
“Yes, I believe it definitely might have made a difference, so I think we can all learn a very important lesson here,” I concluded. “It’s that your actions have consequences. Things you do may produce results that you don’t intend or even expect, but you are responsible for what happens just the same.”
I saw some puzzled expression as I looked around, so I felt I’d better explain this in a little more detail.
“For instance,” I continued, “if you were to throw a stone at a car and it hit the driver or maybe just startled him badly enough that it caused him to lose control of the car and crash, you would be responsible. Even though it isn’t what you intended, your actions directly influenced what followed. If something like that were to happen, then you would definitely bear the responsibility for causing the accident. Even though it may not be what you wanted or even thought might occur, the driver probably wouldn’t have lost control of his vehicle and had an accident if you hadn’t thrown the stone in the first place. This means that you aren’t only responsible when you mean for something to happen, but you are also responsible if something unexpected occurs as a result of your actions.”
I felt the class was old enough to understand this and mature enough to be able to come to grips with the idea that they would have to answer for their actions and any consequences resulting from them. Maybe knowing this would cause them to think twice before they did something similar to someone else. I just prayed that by spreading this message, it might prevent more young people from killing themselves, just because they could no longer tolerate the abuse others were heaping upon them. I was hopeful that I’d made some progress in addressing this issue today, as I dismissed the students so they could go to class.
Prior to holding this meeting in the cafeteria, I had asked one of the eighth-grade teachers to secretly record it for me, so I could watch it again later. I thought by doing this I could see if I had missed any seemingly trivial signals or overlooked any subtle comments at the time. After viewing the recording at home, I decided that I should have private meetings with a few of the students who spoke up at the meeting and follow up on some of the things they had said. Out of those meetings, some of them really stood out for me.
The first was with the raven-haired boy. He’d not only had a lot to say during this session, but I’d also challenged him on how he would feel if everyone else suddenly turned on him. I thought I’d pursue this concept and see if his views had changed since he first made them.
“When I met with your class in the cafeteria, you were quick to voice your concerns and make it perfectly clear that you didn’t like gay people,” I began. “Could you explain to me why you feel that way?”
“It’s just that being gay is weird and unnatural,” he answered. “They don’t have to choose to be like that and they shouldn’t.”
His response wasn’t nearly as spontaneous, hostile or forceful as the comments he had made when we were in the group setting. I wasn’t sure if this was due to the fact that he didn’t have an audience or if something else was in play.
“It may not seem natural to you, but what if they DIDN’T choose to be that way?” I challenged. “What if they were born gay and had no more choice about it than you did about being heterosexual or right-handed?”
“But everyone says they choose to be gay,” he countered. “They must have, since other animals don’t do things like that.”
“Really? How do you know that for certain? Do you go around watching groups of animals to support your claim?” I asked, rhetorically. “I’ve seen several studies that have reported that members of other animal species have also shown an attraction to members of the same sex and some have even remained paired off for life.”
“Well I’ve never heard about anything like that before,” he spat back.
“Just because you’ve never heard about it or been made aware of it, doesn’t mean that it never happens,” I confirmed. “What if it did happen with other animals? Would that change how you think about gays then?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s possible,” he conceded, rather meekly.
I was seeing a definite change in attitude here and he didn’t seem nearly as sure of himself as he had at the group gathering, so I thought I should pursue this a little more.
“You don’t seem to have the same strong convictions that you voiced at the meeting we had with your entire class,” I stated. “Is that because you don’t have your friends here to cheer you on?”
“No, that doesn’t have anything to do with it,” he replied.
“Then what does?” I followed.
He didn’t answer right away and began to fidget in his seat. I could tell something was bothering him, although I had no idea what that was, so I waited to see how much longer it would take for him to answer me.
“It was the stuff you asked me later, about how I’d feel and react if people began to make fun of me because of the things I liked or did,” he eventually mumbled in reply. “I thought about it some more that night, after I got home from school, and wondered how I’d feel if it happened to me.”
“I see, and I take it you didn’t like what you came up with,” I pressed.
“Not really,” he responded. “I know if something like that were to happen right now, I could fight off anyone who said anything to me, but then I thought about what you said about them all being bigger and stronger. That could happen when I get to high school. I’m bigger than most of the others right now, but I’m also as big or bigger than my parents. What if I just grew early and don’t grow any more? What happens if I’m not big enough to play on the high school teams? Will I become an outcast if that happens and will I end up being picked on like Jamie? Will all the cool guys start making fun of me, because I’m no longer on the teams or one of the best players?”
“That’s always a possibility,” I answered, “especially if your entire identity is wrapped up with being an athlete. Isn’t there something else that makes you stand out from the others?”
“Not that I can think of,” he replied. “I don’t really do very good in my classes, although I’m not failing anything, and I know I’m not the best looking guy either. I’m not ugly, but I think the girls go out with me now because I’m one of the best on the different sports teams. That makes me wonder if they will still be willing to go out with me if I get cut?”
“I’m sure some of them will,” I replied, while trying to remain positive for him.
“Yeah, but will it be the same girls that are willing to go out with me now or will it only be the rejects?” he wondered aloud, before answering his own question. “I guess if I don’t make the teams, then I would be considered a reject too, so of course only the other rejects would be attracted to me.”
“I’m sure it won’t get that bad for you,” I offered, as I tried to prevent him from getting too distraught.
“But it might,” he snapped back. “When I think about it happening to me, I can see where it was wrong to do those things to Jamie. Maybe he didn’t have a choice about being gay, like I won’t have a choice about how big I’m going to get, so now I can see how bad we must have made him feel. I wish I hadn’t said those things to him back then.”
This was a start, but would it be enough? Maybe I’ve helped him reach the point where he’s starting to look at things differently, but will he actually change how he acts now or will he simply revert back to his previous bad habits?
The next revealing discussion I had was with the boy with short brown hair.
“When we met in the cafeteria with your other classmates,” I began, “you kept indicating that you disliked Jamie because he acted more like a girl than a boy. Why did you feel this way?”
“Because he did act more like a girl,” he shot back. “He was always talking about his feelings, clothes, jewelry and crap like that, plus when he was with the girls I could often hear him singing to them or breaking out with some faggy dance move.”
“So that’s what bothered you about him?” I pressed back.
“I wasn’t bothered by it exactly, but the girls wanted the rest of us guys to do shit like that too,” he spat out.
“Oh, and how did they let you know that?” I wondered.
“They kept saying they wanted the rest of us boys to be more sensitive,” he answered. “They also claimed we didn’t care enough about their feelings and weren’t willing to talk about crap like that.”
“And you couldn’t do some of that to make them happy?” I followed.
“Hell, no. That’s girl shit, not guy stuff,” he replied.
“And what else was there?” I wanted to know.
“They would ask why we didn’t notice when they did something different to their hair or comment about some new outfit they were wearing,” he sputtered. “That’s gay shit, not stuff a normal guy would do. They wanted to make us start acting like that fag too.”
“I see. Anything else?” I asked.
“Yeah, the girls would make fun of the way we danced when we were with them. They say things like we had no rhythm or we danced like a zombie,” he nearly shouted. “I guess they got used to seeing all those loosey-goosey faggy moves they see the gay guys do on TV.”
“So you feel threatened by the gay guys?” I challenged.
“Not threatened, but I just don’t want to wind up doing all that same touchy-feely, faggy crap that they do,” he insisted.
“Interesting,” I observed, “but I want you to think about something. If those same guys were able to turn straight, whom do you think the girls would choose to be with? Would they rather be with a sensitive, caring guy who observed things about them, showed an interest in the things that were important to them and had some decent dance moves, or would they still want to be with you?”
He thought about this for a few seconds, but didn’t give me an answer. Seeing his reluctance, I chose to keep going.
“Don’t you think it might be worse for you if all those gay guys were straight and in competition with you for the girls?” I offered.
“If they were straight, then they wouldn’t be acting like that,” he conjectured.
“I don’t think it would change who they were, just whom they were interested in and attracted to,” I challenged. “Think about it, would you rather have to compete with them for a girl’s affections or would it be better to allow them to remain as they are?”
Again, he didn’t answer, but I think it gave him something to think about after he left.
Another interview I’d found interesting was with the sandy-haired boy that wore glasses and had a slight overbite. He not only seemed to have a religious bias about gays, but he had also seemed to indicate that he thought Jamie had done the right thing by killing himself. I found his attitude somewhat puzzling and wanted to investigate it further.
“From the comments you made in the group meeting, I take it you don’t have any sympathy for gays,” I began.
“None at all,” he responded. “What they do is a sin and evil.”
“And what do you base your opinion on?” I asked next.
“It’s in the Bible that a man shouldn’t have sex with another man, that’s what,” he spat out, defiantly.
“So because it’s mentioned in a few odd verses in the Bible, you feel that you are justified in bullying Jamie?” I challenged.
“I wouldn’t call it bullying. I just told him that what he was doing was wrong, immoral and he’d burn in hell for it,” the boy answered.
“Even if he wasn’t having sex?” I challenged.
“He would, eventually,” he stated, “so it didn’t really matter that he hadn’t done it yet.”
“If God thought being gay was such a big deal and so wrong, then why didn’t he make it one of his Commandments?” I argued. “Surely if it’s as great a sin as you claim, then God would have made it a priority and made a commandment about it.”
“Well he didn’t, but it’s still wrong,” the boy offered, more weakly.
“You also said something about feeling that Jamie might try to kiss or hug you,” I stated next. “Why did you feel that way?”
“If you ever tried to do something nice for him, like the time I picked up a book he had dropped, then he would look like he was going to do one of those things to thank you,” he answered.
“And you would have been bothered if Jamie had hugged you in gratitude for being nice to him?” I pressed.
“He only had to say thank you and that would have been enough, without doing that other stuff,” he reasoned.
“Ok, but you also seemed to have no problem with the fact that Jamie committed suicide either,” I mentioned. “Doesn’t this go against your religious beliefs too?”
“It would if someone had killed him,” the boy reasoned, “but since he killed himself he was only carrying out God’s punishment for his sins.”
“Do you really believe that?” I asked, amazed. “Don’t you think Jesus would have welcomed him, as he did the leapers, prostitutes and other sinners, and not shunned or condemned him?”
“I doubt it, but I guess it is possible he might have done that,” he conceded, “but I just keep thinking about the Bible saying it is wrong. It can’t be both.”
“No it can’t,” I agreed.
Even though I might not have altered his beliefs, I do think I might have seen a crack in how adamantly he would profess those views in the future. If he were willing to concede that Jesus might have welcomed gays, rather than condemn them, then maybe he wouldn’t react so harshly toward gays in the future.
The last of the individual meetings I felt was noteworthy was also the most disturbing. It was when I met with the boy who had shaggy brown hair.
“During the group meeting I held concerning what had happened to Jamie,” I began, “I believe you called Jamie a flamer and mentioned that you thought he talked funny and waved his arms around when he was talking, but you also mentioned something about how he dressed. Why did those things bother you?”
“Jamie did all the same stuff that most comedians make gay jokes about and he acted and dressed the way they show gay guys on television and in the movies and it’s sickening,” he answered. “Jamie drew a lot of attention to himself by doing those things and by being so damn flamboyant. The way he acted and the stuff he did just made it tougher on the rest of…”
His voice trailed off after saying this and his eyes bulged from their sockets. I think he had just outted himself and disclosed a piece of information that he had been carefully guarding up until this moment.
“So you’re gay too?” I asked, to bring it out in the open.
“That’s not what I said,” he insisted.
“Then what were you saying?” I pressed. “Jamie’s actions made it tougher on whom then?”
“On us guys,” he shot back.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” I challenged. “How would Jamie playing into gay stereotypes make it tougher on straight guys?”
I could see he was very uncomfortable now and didn’t want to answer this question, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook.
“Look, I won’t tell anyone else about anything you say here, so you can be totally honest with me,” I assured him. “Who did you feel Jamie’s actions were making it tougher on?”
He was still very uncomfortable and fidgeting in his seat, but I didn’t say anything else and I let him stew about it, until he finally replied.
“Okay, I’m gay too and I thought it was making it tougher on the rest of us. I’ll admit that I’m gay, but I’m not a flamer or some drama queen like Jamie was,” he stated. “People don’t even suspect I’m gay, because I don’t do all of that really gay crap like he did.”
“Maybe not, but don’t you think that making fun of Jamie about the way he acted, dressed and talked, and by using those awful gay slurs when talking about him also makes it tougher on all gays?” I challenged. “Doesn’t saying things like that not only make him look bad, but it also makes all gays look bad? By using those same hateful phrases to describe him, doesn’t your derogatory language end up reflecting badly on all gays?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied, meekly. “Why should it?”
“Well, if you ask me, I’d say that any negative comments made about one particular gay might be picked up by others and used to make it appear that it refers to all gays and that just being gay is wrong,” I offered. “For most haters, all gays are the same, so anything your say that reinforces this concept just makes it harder for everyone else who is gay or part of the LGBT community.”
“But I’m not like that!” he insisted, while his eyes pleaded with me to tell him he was correct.
“I’m afraid that most people just hear your negative comments as being about all gays, not one particular person,” I told him, as gently as I could. “Most of those who are anti-gay don’t differentiate between one type or another. An attack on any gay individual is an attack on all gays, as far as they’re concerned.”
“I’d never thought of it that way,” he admitted. “I thought it was only against the real flamers, not all gays.”
“Maybe for you, but I don’t think the others draw such a fine distinction about there being different types of gays,” I confirmed. “I think they just see it as another reason why all gays are sick and unacceptable.”
I’m not certain if this conversation would prevent him from doing anything similar in the future, but I hoped he would consider the things I’d said. Even though he didn’t realize it, I think every time a gay criticizes and singles out someone else from the LGBT community, he only ends up doing himself a disservice.
Although I pray that I’ve made an impression on some of these kids and may have possibly impacted their future actions concerning such matters, I didn’t walk away from these meetings feeling overly optimistic. However, if I’ve merely caused one or two of them to challenge their preconceived notions or have possibly altered their future actions when dealing with gays then, hopefully, one more life may have been saved as a result of my efforts.
THE END
Posted: 05/04/12