“Poofs” and Ham
We were finally, finally Year 11′s. This meant two things, firstly, the five years we had endured at secondary school was the prelude to this moment, the summer that would (we thought at the time) define the rest of our lives or more simply put: GCSE’s. Secondly we, the Year 11′s, were at the height of our power reigning over the younger students. Something we had not experienced since Year 6. With this advantage of age brought a smug superiority, above us there was no one. For the sake of anonymity let’s call one of my classmates Jason and let me tell you about “Jason.” Lunchtimes were usually a tense routine, Iwent to a rough school after all and I remember at the time the banter and abuse exchanged between the boys I hung around with seemed nothing in comparison to what was happening elsewhere on the grounds and so it seemed relatively serene to be around guys who were just calling each other paki, nigger and poof. Jason would jeer me about the food he would have for lunch in comparison to mine. I thought at the time that he was one parent’s divorce away from being me. But instead of eating this food he liked to boast about, he would pick out the meat and throw it at whoever he felt needed to be disgraced in the middle of the playground…
One of the reasons I had such a tough time in the last few years of education and why I was in denial about my sexuality for so long was the atmosphere that surrounded me. It seems now, that back then we were all confused about everything and it was so urgent to disassociate ourselves from anything that could single us out that we pushed away anyone who didn’t seem normal. So Jason would throw whatever he happened to be holding at whoever happened to look gay and mince past and he would shout at the top of his voice “Poof!” The gays would never turn around, would never stop.
At work, nearly 7-8ish years on I find myself talking to visiting students. A group sat across from me, a mix of white and black students, working class, middle class, straight and gay. I saw to my surprise, gay students putting their arms around each other and the others not paying any attention to this blatant show of affection. I found myself jealous.
If the teenage me could see into the present, at me licking circles around…ahem… it would probably be terrifying and here these teens are, together and open. What has changed in the understanding of what it is to be gay when still the very word is used every day as an adjective for something stupid, disliked or abnormal? I was happy to see (and it wasn’t just the once) gay teenagers being open but I can’t help but feel that they have it easy. School wasn’t just terrifying but also accepting that I’m part of a minority group. I would be singling myself out. Of course I eventually got over that but I sometimes think, the damage is done, I missed out on so much during those years…
