******TRIGGER WARNING: Physical and emotional abuse, violent language/slurs**********
If you walked by me in the halls of my high school in 1999/2000 you probably wouldn’t know I was there. And trust me, I was hard to miss: Neon green Mohawk, bright red shoes and black shirt and shorts. Against the maroon and white bricks and lockers, I was definitely a sore thumb. Those who did notice me were the popular kids. The football players. The cheerleaders. Wasn’t I the lucky one? They even gave me cool nicknames: Faggot, loser, fatty, chunk, and....you get the idea.
That year I remember talking to a teacher about how I felt; a far stretch for a shy kid like myself. That teacher told me “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” So I did. I joined the football team.
Excited, I suited up for my first practice ready to take on the world. But what I had done was take the target that was always on my back and replaced it with a name and number. I was abused, beaten, and humiliated. The locker room was a war zone.
After making it through two practices, I was done. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked out of the locker room and never returned. I made my way through the lobby of the high school and I suddenly felt two hands pushing on my back. I fell facedown.
As I stood up the members of the football team emptied the locker room and circled around me. As I stood there, I looked and saw the “can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” teacher standing and looking at me from behind the wall of people. I saw the football coach, my favorite teacher, and hundreds of other students. Words like “fag” and “loser” echoed through the lobby. One player looked at me, grabbed me by the backpack straps, and said “we heard you spit in the water bottles? __ told us you spit in the water bottles?” He then spit directly in my face. Every member of the football team then followed suit.
Spit after spit, I locked eyes with the “beat ‘em/join ‘em” teacher. He did nothing. I looked to the football coach. He did nothing. I looked at my favorite teacher with tears and fear in my eyes. He did nothing.
At this point, I should mention that these three people--the “beat ‘em/join ‘em” teacher, the football coach, and my favorite teacher--are the same person; someone I knew and trusted.
I stood there for what felt like hours getting spit on and getting punched in the back, stomach, and head. Spit dripped from my glasses and blood poured from my nose. I feared for my life. One by one, they got bored and walked away until I stood there, soaked in spit, crying, and surrounded by my peers. Alone.
I finally got the courage to move. As I walked through the crowd, they parted and stared. I made my way to the front office and sat in a chair in front of the principal. After explaining to him what had just happened, I was told that “boys will be boys”.
I know now that no one from the school ever contacted my parents, even though a handful of teachers witnessed the event and it was reported to my principal.
I don’t tell this story for attention or for comments or reactions: I tell this story because I know I’m not alone.
It took me 20 years of fear and anguish to even be comfortable with my true self. It has taken me 20+ years to truly discover who I am. 20+ years to find the courage to put this in words. I know there are so many others that still have years to go before they might be able to reflect. And some that will never get that chance.
When I moved here to Buckfield I noticed very quickly that these same forms of bullying and discrimination were happening...but by adults. Leaders. Prominent members of our community. And I could not sit back and let this happen. I had to speak up.
We as a community need to put an end to bullying, bigotry, and discrimination. We need children to feel safe in our schools. We need people of all shapes, sizes, colors, backgrounds, genders, orientations, ethnicities, and lifestyles to be equal and safe in our community.
My path was forever changed after that day and not a day goes by that I don’t think about that moment and how so many people did nothing. I won’t sit back and let that happen. I won’t sit back and not do anything. Not anymore. And that’s why I stand with Equity Buckfield.
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