Anonymous Submission

Age: 20

Description: Black queer girl still trying to learn how to love herself.

I had just moved from New York. Left my friends behind. My community. My home. It’s like my mom ripped me out of the ground and planted me in the soil of Florida. She didn’t even care that she left bits of my roots behind.

But man, I had just turned 14. It was my first year of high school. There’s not much I can say about all of that though. New year. New school. New city.

Principal found a student to walk me to my classes. She was showing me around, trying to give me a sense of their environment and atmosphere. It was mostly her talking about what she thought of the teachers. Or about some girl’s raggedy shoes.

We were talking about which subjects we hated the most when she suddenly asked me if I was a “homosexual.” And I thought, “Wait. What did this girl say?”

I’m comfortable with myself, especially coming from New York and being open and cool with my community. But like, that question came out of nowhere. We were just literally talking about the History and Algebra.

I was too slow. Too awkward. But I’m proud. I’ve always been proud. Open. Loud mouthed. Ready. I told her, “Hell yeah.”

Her face twisted, started to look like a totally different person. The corners of her mouth pointed to the ground. Her eyes squinted like she could barely handle looking at me. I learned even before then how dirty a look can make you feel. And that’s how I felt then.

She shook her head and started hushing me. And she pulled me to the side of the hall, her fingernails gripping into my arm.

She said, “I don’t give a shit about how proud you are. Keep it to yourself. Faggots and dykes aren’t tolerated here. The school doesn’t even care when gays get beat up here. I’m telling you for your own good.”

I pushed her off of me. I wanted to get in on her for even trying me like that with her hands on me but two teachers walked by just as the bell rang. They told us to hurry, so we did. By the end of the day, I couldn’t find her. And really, by the time the last school bell rang, it wasn’t worth it anymore. I just didn’t really understand what she was saying.

To be honest I didn’t take her too serious about kids getting beat up for being gay at all anyway. I’ve just never seen that back at home. I knew gay hate. I knew some neighborhoods back where I was from can get bad. But I’ve just never personally seen it. And like, this is a school. You know?

I saw her in my classes but we never looked at each other since that day. And that’s how it was.

A month after that I made a really good friend. He was called “Strawberries.” Dead ass serious.

Strawberries was out and proud and sometimes loud in heels. That girl seemed so wrong at the time. Because Strawberries was fine. He was always laughing and smiling, and I would too when we’re hanging out. We’re just kids, you know? High school students hanging out, barely tolerating classes and the other students–just the typical shit.

But one day a group of dudes were waiting for Strawberries after school. We just finished grabbing stuff from the lockers and started to walk but the guys blocked off the hallway. They wouldn’t let Strawberries pass. Started spitting at him and shit. They rushed him so fast. Got his shoes and threw them to a distance. They started beating Strawberries down, and my silly ass forgot how big these guys were. I tried to jump in and break it up.

It all stopped before it got too bad. We were all sitting in the principal’s office, waiting for our turns. But the guys hurting Strawberries got to go together. And they left as soon as they got in. They looked at Strawberries and smirked and walked off. Then Strawberries was called in. I heard shouting. Strawberries leaves with a security guard several minutes later. I get up to get his attention but then I was called in to the office.

The principal acknowledged I was a fairly new student and apparently it made all the difference in the world. She tells me that Strawberries always gets into things like that and I shouldn’t get involved let alone associate myself with him, it will get me in trouble. And I’m like, “you know they beat him up b/c he’s gay.”

Her fucking response, I shit you not, “Do not interfere ever again, and if I find out you do, you’ll be suspended. That kind of behavior won’t be tolerated here. If he wants to pretend to be something he’s not, that’s an issue for his parents. Not you and definitely not at this school.”

It wouldn’t be until the end of the school year when the principal and I exchanged words.

Close to the end of the year, I started to become more myself. Somehow word got to my mom. She kicked me out the day she found out.

The school knew. I didn’t show up and when I did. And I shared why I wouldn’t be there. But none of the teachers or anyone from the administration seemed to care. I reached out to the principal and she said, “I hope you can continue your education. Try not to miss any more days.”

I was on my own. I didn’t know how I was supposed to get to school every single day. I had to worry about eating everyday, not getting my homework in. I had to think about how I much money I can make, not how high my scores are on a test. But I tried. I tried to do both. But I dropped out a month after that conversation with my principal and my teachers.

I won’t go too far into detail. But eventually I was able to find a home. I moved away to another part of Florida. Did my online schooling and got my GED. I haven’t seen my mom in years. But I wonder what would have happened if my teachers cared. Like what if they had spoken up? What if they cared enough to help me and Strawberries and others feel safe? What if my principal stood up against bullying? Because we had a no tolerance policy. That’s the normal school thing in schools. But that’s kind of pointless if we don’t have principals who were willing to make it happen. I don’t know, man. Life is hard but it shouldn’t have to be that hard.