It’s safe to say that my high school matriculation was quite typical of most openly gay teens. That is to say that I often found myself bruised both emotionally and physically. As I walked through the dreary hallways of Oak Park High School, I would quietly chant, “it gets better.” This was many years before Dan Savage took up the charge but it kept my spirits high to imagine how much better my life would be once I graduated.
I wasn’t so blindly optimistic to think that the world outside the confines of my personal Pandemonium was filled with people begging to welcome a recently emancipated gay man. However, it took the swift hand of injustice to sock me into the realization that things would not be so different post commencement.
It was seven years ago, but I still remember the moment when I was told that I didn’t matter. I stared at George Bush through my TV screen and I saw the same look in him that I saw in my many torturers’ eyes. He was cold and calculated. In that moment, he stole all my hope for the future. Even though I’d never fathomed that I would be able to get married, being told that I couldn’t sent a jolt through me. That sudden sobering jerk made conscious of just how bad things really were and it hurt.