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Purple
Today is the day that was chosen for people to wear purple in solidarity against bullying and in remembrance of those who committed suicide as a result of this bullying. The common factor uniting these unfortunate deaths was that each and every person was gay.
Please note I am not listing a number.
The media is listing the most recent and publicized of these occurrences but, let’s face it, over the years how many countless others have died because of this? How many have been killed due to hate, and how many have taken their own lives?
I remember Terry. How we sat together in my dorm room and how she talked about how much she wanted the surgery and how hard it was to be accepted by others. How she told me she preferred to be a “she” and a “her” but requested that we address her as “him” in front of her family as they did not understand. How she offered me chocolate and told me she would go through PMS and all it entailed if it meant she could truly be a woman in every way, shape, and form. And how she set neatly stacked her books and calculator, stood up, walked to the Washington Avenue Bridge over the Mississippi and jumped.
At the funeral, her parents refused to show a single picture of her in transition, the pastor referred to her only as “him” and, at one memorable point, listed the contributing factor to “his” suicide as school stressors and, “We all know about his other problems so we need not go into them here.”
That was fourteen years ago. One would have thought we would have come father than that by now.
Please note I am not listing a number.
The media is listing the most recent and publicized of these occurrences but, let’s face it, over the years how many countless others have died because of this? How many have been killed due to hate, and how many have taken their own lives?
I remember Terry. How we sat together in my dorm room and how she talked about how much she wanted the surgery and how hard it was to be accepted by others. How she told me she preferred to be a “she” and a “her” but requested that we address her as “him” in front of her family as they did not understand. How she offered me chocolate and told me she would go through PMS and all it entailed if it meant she could truly be a woman in every way, shape, and form. And how she set neatly stacked her books and calculator, stood up, walked to the Washington Avenue Bridge over the Mississippi and jumped.
At the funeral, her parents refused to show a single picture of her in transition, the pastor referred to her only as “him” and, at one memorable point, listed the contributing factor to “his” suicide as school stressors and, “We all know about his other problems so we need not go into them here.”
That was fourteen years ago. One would have thought we would have come father than that by now.
no subject
Poor Terry. I hope that she rests in peace, the spirit of a woman free of the confines of her male body.
I wish i'd heard about the purple earlier, i would be decked out.