twenty-something

* * *

Inspired by a similar petition that was circulated in Cabot, Vermont (yes, like the cheese) earlier that year (and with that organizer's permission), the biggest part of the great plan that Kristen and I concocted involves the very document you read above: a manifesto we secretly circulated around our 950-person school, under the radar of the school's staff, trying to gain silent support.

We are nervous about the reaction of peers as we expose our cause to them -- well, I'm mostly the nervous one. Kristen is fearless, and therefore she does most of the footwork to get signatures. But before long, our fellow students are coming up to both of us to give us their John Hancocks. The halls are abuzz -- and it's almost all positive.

At the same time, I am using my position as Editor-in-Chief of the school paper to write a piece about harassment. Conflict of interest? Maybe, but at seventeen, I am too wide-eyed and headstrong to know or care.

We get over 200 signatures and decide it's time to go public. That Thursday, a hundred copies of our signed petition are distributed to the school's faculty.

With the invaluable help of the school's registrar and "resident mom" Mrs. McGurl, a hundred copies of the signed document were placed in the then given to every staff member.

The next day, my editorial is to see print in the Red & White.

The gauntlet has been thrown. We just have to wait and see what happens...

* * *

Editorial: A Silent Injustice
By Patrick Raymond

Dan sat across the table from me. I watched as he devoured the plate of cashew chicken before him, gulping it down between mouthfuls of pork fried rice and swallows of Sprite. He acted as though he hadn't eaten in days.

"What's the matter," he asked suddenly. I realized that he had caught me staring at him. I winced when I saw his eye again, nearly swollen shut with a revolting purple bruise. I couldn't get used to his black eye, not because of its appearance, but its constant reminder of why he had it; because of who he is.

"Nothing," I lied to him. "Nothing's the matter." I looked down at my plate and ran my fork through the worst egg foo yung I'd ever tasted. "I worry about you, you know."

"Don't. There's no reason to worry about me," he said. "I don't need your pity."

Poor Dan, I think. He's so strong, always a survivor. It amazed me to see him remain so solid through everything that was thrown at him. I admired his strength, but I can't help wonder if it was just a mask; underneath, I'm sure that he just wanted to cry on someone's shoulder.

I still ask myself the same questions: What did he do to deserve the way he's been treated? What caused the fight that gave him that horrendous black eye?

Dan's a good friend of mine. He's a senior now, at a school not far from here. He'll graduate in June at the top of his class, with high hopes for college and the world beyond. He's a basketball player, a hockey fan, and the vice president of his class. He likes to watch TV, hang out with friends, and go to parties.

Dan is a regular guy, normal in every way, no different from you or me, really. But now he has a purple bruise over his left eye, which he got because he happens to be gay. Three little letters, one little word, and his whole life was turned upside down.

The sad fact is that Dan's story could have taken place in almost any high school in America. Young men and women -- be they straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender -- are subjected to homophobia each and everyday. Some, like Dan, are thrust out from the safety of their closet for all the unaccepting world to see. Others come out by their own decision, facing equally harsh reactions. Still others are harassed and assaulted simply because they are perceived to be something other than heterosexual.

Think about it: when was the last time you heard the word "nigger" used by a student who got away with it? When was the last time you saw someone harassed because of their religion, race or gender within our school's walls?

Now think back: when was the last time you heard the word "faggot?" Five minutes ago? Ten?

You may think that the words "nigger" and "faggot" should not be compared because they are too different. You're right. They are different, but not in their meaning. They both hurt just as much. They both are forms of harassment and discrimination that is illegal here in the state of Vermont. The difference is the word "nigger" is a cardinal offense while the word "faggot" is permitted by the society within the halls of Rutland High School. Homophobia and "gay-bashing" are consistently ignored and allowed.

This homophobia remains a silent problem because so many are afraid to complain. Students are too frightened to say anything and many faculty members simply close their eyes to it. Most gay students do not speak out against the harassment because they fear the abuse will only worsen. Many gay rights proponents are also afraid to say anything because they know they will be assumed to be gay themselves. Those who have had the guts to stand up or seek help have, for the most part. been ignored.

I, for one, am sick of being afraid of what others will think. I am going to stand up for myself, my friends and my beliefs. This is a serious injustice that occurs at Rutland High School, one that we have to work to end. All of us have a legal and moral obligation to make our school a healthy, non-discriminatory place for everyone, regardless of their race, religion, or sexual orientation.

To the students of Rutland High School, I ask you to think about the words you use and what they mean. To the faculty, I ask you to open your mind instead of just closing your eyes.

* * *

How is the petition met? Tentatively. The school's administration catches us before the staff gets a hold of what's waiting in their mailbox. We are called into the principal's office.

He's trying to be supportive, and we can tell he wants to be. But he's also incredibly scared -- scared of the issues, scared of the gay kids, scared of what happens next. He's perhaps more terrified than we are.

We make a deal. The petition will still go to the entire staff, and we will start to make change happen, but only with two small changes to the document -- we must address the letter to the principal instead of Superintentent (Mr. Wolk). We must also allow him to attach a memo. High school politics in Rutland, Vermont...

The next day, the slightly changed letter hits the school.

To: Faculty and Staff
From: [The Principal]
Date: September 25, 1997
Subject: Student Harassment

Today I met with two students who presented to me this letter and attached signed petition.

As you might well imagine, I was somewhat taken back by the serious tone and intensity of the letter. My first reaction was "How can this be, here at Rutland High School?" We have always addressed problems and concerns up front and with concern for those affected.

For whatever reason, we have a great number of students (over 200 signatures) who are concerned about the level of harassment that is taking place among our student body. I know that we can probably think of reasons why we, as individuals, have not confronted harassing situations, but we must address this issue.

On Wednesday, October 1st at our Faculty Meeting, I have invited Patrick and Kristen to speak with the faculty. Please listen to what they have to say. The remainder of the meeting will be spend discussing the necessary steps in dealing with these situations of harassment or potential situations of harassment.

I am appreciative of the courage of these students that have come forward. Their letter should make us all stop and think about what we have or have not done in the past. It must now be our resolve to support all of our students in whatever way possible.

I am counting on your professionalism and strict confidentiality regarding the contents of this letter and your respect for those that have taken the initiative and shown the courage to address this situation.

"For whatever reason" -- it appears we have the support of the school.

That Friday, the petition is picked up by every teacher. And the Red & White hits the school.

The halls are on fire.

* * *
I make my way up the steps to the lecture hall, my palms beginning to sweat. I hear the crowd behind the door, just a few feet away.

Mrs. McGurl pats me on the back. "Breathe," she says. "Take a deep breath. It's good for you."

I take a deep breath. Then another. It isn't helping.

"Give me a minute," I say, stopping dead in my tracks. I look down at the notes in my hand. I am trembling.

A moment later, Mrs. McGurl asks, "Are you ready?"

The door stands before me. I hear the many voices within and look at Kristen. She smiles nervously.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I say. It's time.

All eyes are on us as we entered. The room is suddenly quieter. In the seats of the enormous lecture hall, the entire faculty and staff of Rutland High School, numbering over 70 people, waits for the meeting to begin.

I glance around, seeing many familiar faces. These are my teachers, those who had shown me so much about what they knew -- about the Civil War and War and Peace -- and now it's my turn to enlighten them about a subject that I know all too well: homophobia and harassment.

I am suddenly filled with the tremendous feeling of dread, wishing I was anywhere else but there. I wished I didn't have to do this, not because of my nerves but because of the principle. It shouldn't have been the students' responsibility to address this problem, to throw ourselves into the fire to get something done. Talk of the petition and the editorial -- of these two gay rights activists -- had spreads through the halls to the nation. From the classrooms of Rutland High to the pages of USA Today, people are finally talking about this once silent injustice.

I look around the lecture hall and gathered my confidence. It's time to really being out work. These are my teachers, those who had shown me so much about what they knew -- about civil rights and Civil Disobedience -- those who had taught me to stand up for what I believe in and fight for what is right. From the looks on their faces, I know I am making them proud.

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