I was called a faggot in the first grade. Too early to understand the weight of the word nor the implications. Too young to have even been called that. But that's what you get when your only friend was a third grade girl who sat with you on a bus of twelfth graders (whoever planned that shit was an idiot in all honesty). I remember crying one day when I got home, walking up my cul-de-sac, listening as the bus pulled away and with it the words "lover boy" and "faggot". I walked into my house, in tears and simply said that the boys were mean to me. No more. No less.
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I'm pretty thick skinned. I'm not easily offended. Ideas don't offend me, and, in fact, I don't think they should offend. But, since coming out, I've realized that "faggot" is hurtful. For me, though, it's more hurtful knowing that others around me might be struggling and are gonna hurt. I get annoyed but very rarely am hurt by those words said in ignorance, though ignorance is not an excuse.
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I guess it helps that I have a deep voice, am relatively athletic, and decently good humored. That's probably why I don't get insulted. Who knows. Regardless, I still struggle with body image and self harm. And while I choose to cut I still blame those who have hurt me and insult me. I get angered and triggered by the bullshit that is hatred.
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I wish to god I could tell people that words have consequences. And if they said, Like what? I could point them to the stories of Tyler Clementi and others. Kids like me who were told they weren't okay, beautiful, or good enough. That they needed to change. That they were fags and abominations. Kids who are outed or mocked or embarrassed for something they can't change. Just the thought, the typing of those words in sentences gives me chills. Words have consequences so shut the fuck up when you want to say something harmful or wrong.
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Are those who hurt LGBTQ folks who have killed themselves culpable? Part of me, in brutal honesty, thinks so.
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