KarMel
Scholarship 2008
|
Personal
Story “ By Christopher
Meek |
Desciption of Submission: “A
stream-of-consciousness coming-out story.” - Christopher
|
Prejudice. An
ugly word, always lingering at the peripheries of my childhood, threatening
to embrace me in the long arms of its detached ignorance. I grew up being taught to accept everyone
for who they were- or so it seemed. Simultaneously with this cozy, utopian
mantra, there existed a testament to the contrary. A doublethink, drawing me into a conflict
of black versus white, same versus different.
Now, I didn’t like this contradiction, but I was a little boy, and I
could do no more than listen to the world around me. After all, it wasn’t me who was strange,
different, wrong… Then came junior high. Faggot.
Homo. Gay. Not directed at me, but it made no
difference. Each one like an arrow
through my heart. My stomach
sinking. How do they know? Each time, a reminder of my distance from
everyone else. Another stepping stone
to my bitter realization. I had to face this. --- High school. Living a lie, covering every movement, hoping you don’t
lose control and glance too long or smile too much. In a word, exhausting. Exhausting and, in a way, terrifying. But the only way to end it? Courage.
Courage you don’t realize you have until one day you can’t take any
more and you just– Mom? You
know the boy you talked to on the phone the other day? Well, we’re…
dating. Click. I didn’t wait for a response. I couldn’t.
The snap of the phone closing echoed hollowly through the icy night
air, bringing my world crashing down with it.
One call, and nothing would ever be the same. I had never been afraid to go The warm air hitting my face. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as I made the
gauntlet to my room. Kitchen, sister,
mom, dad, hallway, room. Huh? No one stopped me. Not even Dad. I made it.
But that didn’t stop my heart from racing, or my hands from
shaking. I would just wait it
out. Maybe they would go to bed
without wanting to see me. Knock, knock. There goes that idea.
Mom. The door closes upon her
entry. Crying? Worry… shock. This might be something we’re not going to
tell your father about right away. He
didn’t know? More confusion, but
relief. For now. And a closeness I
didn’t have with her before. A bond. Spring. Rebirth. How
fitting. Mom’s known awhile now. She doesn’t know I’m telling Dad. It was him I worried about the most. His jokes, his comments. Not malicious, just careless. Would it change? It did. Still not dinner conversation, but at least I don’t
have to hide now. Not at school, not
at |