Anti– School

From an early age I preferred playing doll games with girls rather than noisy games with

boys. Ill ‘fix’ you, they would say. Another would say “all he need is a night a back road”, a

road in Portmore, Jamaica where women would sell their bodies. But do they really think I

would want to be an outcast in society. Why won’t they get it? Am just like this!!

But the serious problems began in school…

Through my High school life, I was constantly abused by the other school student as I

was not like the other school boys. I was called “battyman” as I was dressed to the school code. I

was called a big gal because I rather study than play football or other sports. I sound funny they

say, as I speak the Queens English. I was a depress teenager. Cried every night when I was

home in the dark and a victim of suicide attempt when I could not cope with it.

It was amazing how cruelty human could be to one another, especially for us student in

high school. Guys in my class would throw my bag out of the classroom, and in response say,

they don’t want any “battyman” in their class. Pushing me out of the lunch line and preventing

me from purchasing my lunch during lunch time. Insulting me, humiliating me, it became a

daily routine.

When I walked through the corridors, I always heard people shouting “there goes the

fagot.” And everyone would look at me and burst into laughter. Others would fire blank shots at

me, with their hands shaped like a gun.

At school I had no close friends. At home, I was also alone. I remember how in 8th grade

I liked a boy. He stood apart from everyone, as I did. I went to him to get acquainted. We talked

until the end of break. After that he didn’t talk with me anymore. It turned out he was a

newcomer. He didn’t know it was dangerous to talk with me, that he would be called gay after

they’d seen us together. Since that day, in order to clear his reputation, he has become the most

conspirators against me.

And all of this I kept secret from my mother. I couldn’t tell my mother about my

problems. No parent ever wants to hear that their child is being tormented at school, with

classmates not only hurling derogatory words, but spitting on their child as they walk down the

halls, and throwing plastic bottles at them. So yeah, I keep it all to myself.

While on the other hand, I didn’t want to look weak in front her, vulnerable or any less

of a normal kids to her. I was ashamed to tell her that at school they called me gay. So I became

isolated. I silently tolerated the beatings and verbal assault of my school mates.

The first time I asked God to take my life was when I was 13 years old. At this age, I was

going through a real identity crisis. In the background were the problems of beatings and

humiliations at school. A deep feeling of emptiness overtakes my life. I thought that my life was

done. I wanted to eat pills and disappear. One-way ticket out of this world.

What should a child do in my case? Nothing, except to bask in his warm world of dreams

and fantasies, that one day it will be all over. Surrounded by rudeness, boorishness and vulgarity,

I turned to my inner world, separated off from the outside with an impermeable barrier of hurt

and pain.

Well, you must be wondering what my mother would say about me, or haven’t she

realize that am not like the other boys. She pretended not to notice my features, which I was

thankful for. They always say a mother know all about her child, and they just sometimes live

in denial, as they can’t bear to face the facts.