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An interesting memory returned to me this morning while in the shower, attempting to will myself into more than just existence.
I’ve spent a lot of time feeling unwelcome and unwanted in many situations. This memory is an excellent example of little things that contribute.
I’ve spent a lot of time feeling unwelcome and unwanted in many situations. This memory is an excellent example of little things that contribute.
Flashback to either late middle school or early high school. Can’t recall exactly what grade it was. Another dreaded sex ed class. I always hated these. Not only were they uncomfortable, they were also completely useless.
I knew I was different from a pretty young age, but only figured out why in grade 7 (I have another very oddly specific memory of exactly when that happened). This class took place after that, but before being outed in grade 10.
I struggled to see the point of these classes for myself because it felt like most of it did not apply to me. Looking back, how I felt during those classes was absolutely true. These classes weren’t for me and I was on my own to figure all of this out.
This memory is of one of those classes that not only reinforced that it wasn’t for me; I also wasn’t welcome to be there, let alone participate. One of the others in my class asked a question of the teacher about gay people. I can’t recall the exact phrasing.
What I do recall is the topic being along the lines relationships, and the question of “what about gay people?” As so far - this has never been mentioned that a relationship could be anything but a man and a woman (of adult age..you know.. abstinence and all that shit)
The teachers response? That I do remember. Clear as day.
“Oh we don’t talk about that here.”
“Oh we don’t talk about that here.”
Was the teacher being outright homophobic? Well..no. It’s not like they started tossing faggot around or anything. But, if I’m honest, that probably would have sucked less.
Instead it further reinforced that I was different. Less than. Unwelcome.
This is not my only memory of similar incidents growing up. These are the bad memories. Abusive language hurts, sure. But being made to feel unwelcome? That feels far worse.
To this day I have no idea why this person asked the question. We weren’t close, probably one of many who disliked me in school. Not hard to find as I was pretty unpopular, even before being outed.
In some ways though, I’m grateful they asked. It felt like a sliver of acceptance. That at least someone was inquisitive about gay people. That we didn’t just exist in my own mind.
That there are others like me.
That there are others like me.
I don’t know what the point was of this meandering mess, or why I felt compelled to write it down - but here we are.
