I've been lucky so far - incredibly lucky. I have never personally experienced bullying because of my sexuality. Then again, I've always been a very quiet person. People don't notice me much and I live in a small university city that's fairly accepting. It's because of my incredible luck that I'm so adamant about the importance of The Day of Silence. It's because of my incredible luck that I've engaged in the Day of Silence since I first heard about it. It's because of my incredible luck that I'm writing this blog today.
How many people aren't lucky? How many people suffer attacks every day because of their sexuality? How many people won't speak up for fear of those attacks?
Just this morning, I read of an attack on a gay bar in France; a couple who was attacked in Washington DC; a man who was attacked by his Christian pastor in order to keep him out of the church; a series of nine murders of gay men over the course of nine months that are leading investigators to believe it may be a serial killer; a man who evidently set his son on fire for being gay; a Russian gay rights activist attacked last month in front of a group of journalists; three groups of people in the United States that called for the death penalty for homosexuals last year; and more people executed in other countries for being gay.
I have a good friend from Egypt who claimed asylum in the United States recently because his sexuality could get him killed in his country.
I have a friend who was mistreated in high school because her best friend was a lesbian and they were both involved in running the gay-straight alliance. That friend now identifies as a straight male and faces even more hardship. Too many people have questioned his ability to parent behind his back because he's going to confuse his son, or because he's just going through a phase, or because he's "Not really a man - she's way too open with her emotions to be a man."
The lesbian best friend from high school repeatedly had food thrown at her from the second floor walkway during break and lunch.
What can being silent really do? The laws aren't going to change in Egypt because I'm not talking today. My friend is stuck with the choices of hiding his sexuality or banishing himself from his homeland, his family, his friends. Murders, calls for execution, attacks - those aren't going to simply disappear because you and I put tape over our mouths and write, "Break the Silence" across it. I can't undo what's happened to my friends by zipping my lips.
And yet, the more people who get involved the bigger the message we send to the world will be. We do not accept this kind of abuse and mistreatment.
We do not accept it.
My best friend started the gay-straight alliance when we were in high school. I call him my brother; he's the person who's the closest to me in all the world. I know my Egyptian friend through him - they dated for a while. But in high school, he created the gay-straight alliance.
We had to fight the school at first. Now, don't get me wrong - the school was mostly a progressive school; however, they did everything they could to stand in the way of my brother creating this club. He would ask them what he needed to do in order to start a club, and they would tell him one or two things...and simply leave out the rest. Then, after he'd completed the steps and felt confident that everything was in order, he'd bring them all the paperwork. They'd hand it back and inform him that he was missing one or two other steps. Then they'd do it again, and again. They managed to drag it out for half a year before the club was finally in place. And, unfortunately, before the club was fully set up my brother had to leave school and go to Job Corps.
It was unfortunate, but we managed to get the club together.
The next year, the school did a number of things to help promote its clubs. Trash cans were painted...ours somehow didn't mange to get the requisite sealant and most of the paint was washed off by somebody with a hate-on for the GSA, but no matter, we made another one. Which was taken outside and run over by a car. Then another one, which was chained down. And then the chain was cut, and it was taken outside, and it was run over again. Fun stuff. Around this time, the school accidentally forgot to tell us the deadline to submit pictures and information about our club to go into the school yearbook...so we were left out of that. And, the school set up a nice little tack board where the various clubs could showcase who they were and what their purpose was and when they met. And ours was spray-painted black.
Your typical annoying anti-gay crap - the only thing the students could do in a school that had a very firm zero tolerance policy on fighting, but was fine with holding their hands wide and saying, "I got nothing," to a little playful destruction.
It was well past the Day of Silence at this point in the year, but we decided to hold one anyway. There had been way too much happening that year. To be honest, I expected a paltry turn-out. The school - both the administration and the student body - had made it abundantly clear that it just didn't care about us. But, the women running the club got the message out to the school that we were holding a second Day of Silence; they discussed on the announcements the events that had led up to this decision and they announced the ways in which people could participate:
The club would pass out paper hearts in the morning with either, "Break the silence; end the violence" or "Break the silence; stop the hate" on them. We would provide tape so people could put these hearts on their shirt, their pants, their backpack, wherever. This would show their support. From there, they could either choose to be fully silent, mostly silent but still engage in class conversations, or not at all silent. The heart showed the support.
However, when our Day of Silence came - the number of students that wore hearts was astounding. Students I had never expected walked by with hearts taped to their jeans. My band class was cancelled and we played a silent game outside because everyone was wearing a heart and was in some form of a vow of silence. My drama class read The Laramie Project - reading out loud was volunteer only. I spent the entire day silent and in shock.
At the end of the day, the entire school met in the commons and shouted to break the silence. After that, the school stopped getting in our way. Nobody else messed with our things. It was pretty clear - to everybody - that there was more support for the GSA than anybody had previously realized.
It was a powerful message - to the school and to us. The Day of Silence can't legalize gay marriage or protect the LGBT community from violent governments, but at least it lets a few people know that this kind of treatment isn't okay.
It's not okay.
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