I fell in love with the moon
Like the night sky, he is beautiful
Mysterious and romantically dark
To look into his eyes is to glimpse at nothing but everything all at once
Within his irises is a galaxy
Nebulae and planets that you wish you could explore
And his smile
His smile is the moonlight
It is the cratered surface of the moon with a gleam strong enough to pull you in
It controls the tides inside you
Pushing and pulling
Taking over you
Body and soul
But the thing about the night sky is that
No matter how long you gaze up at it
You will never know for sure
If there is something looking back at you
I fell in love with the moon
But I forgot
I was just the ghost in his stars.
From “Night” by Elie Wiesel
As one we let ourselves sink into the snow
Around me
A dance of death
No sound of distress
No plaintive cry
Only mass agony and silence
But we were stronger
To sleep meant to die
To be seized by Death
Stolen into
Devoured bit by bit
Death enveloped me
It suffocated me
But we had the feeling of being alive
We were stronger
A shadow swept away by the wind
Detached like a wheel fallen off a car
We dig holes in that wall of dead and dying people
Souls become our bow, being gliding over the strings
Playing that which we would never play again
Charred past, extinguished future
Unfulfilled hopes
But we were stronger than cold and hunger
Stronger than the guns and desire to die
We are stronger.
Labels : An Essay on Finding My Sexual Identity in High School
It was apparent. Obvious. Clear. Whatever word you wanted to describe just how visible their labels were. In my eyes, they were just like post-its plastered onto their bodies written in bold ink. Straight, Gay, Bisexual, Loner, Single, Taken – it was all there for the world to see. People would look at me wondering what exactly my label was. The most common label given to me was Gay. But that’s all it was. A given label. When in reality, my label was nonexistent; my post-it blank.
I didn’t know what my “label” was nor did I actually care. It wasn’t really a concern to me until freshman year in high school, specifically during fourth period in my Spanish 1 class, when I really started to question exactly who I was.
It was around late October, only a few days before Halloween. I was exhausted from running up and down bleachers under the cloud-engulfed sun in my gym class last period and my legs felt like they were injected with jelly. I sat in the back of the classroom, a fitting seating arrangement considering I was such a misfit and didn’t have anyone to call friends.
In front of me sat a boy in the same grade as I. I could’ve identified his label without my imagination creating the illusion of a post-it stamped upon his forehead with the word, “Straight”, written boldly onto it. From his sleeveless shirt that revealed his long, bony chopsticks for arms to the basketball shorts that hung low below his waist, his stereotypical “straight guy” attire was all anyone needed to see to know what his label was.
Now there’s nothing wrong with being straight just as there’s nothing wrong with being gay, but most of the straight guys I’ve met haven’t been the nicest. In fact, I sort of had a rocky history with them. It always began and ended the same way; teasing to bullying all because I didn’t exactly “act straight”. The boy who sat in front of me was no different.
I could always tell when someone thought I was gay immediately after I open my mouth to speak so it was easy for me to tell that this boy wasn’t going to be my friend. His eyes stared at me curiously with a glint of disgust or annoyance with an occasional glance to his peers as if to silently ask if I was gay or not. Then from there it evolved to some light teasing; sometimes the loathed nickname, “faggot”, would be thrown lightly in the conversation hurting me ever so slightly. Eventually, it manifested to full on bullying and his words that used to prick me like thorns were now jabbing me like knives. But nothing would hurt more than what he had said to me.
“You know that makes you gayer than you already are, right?”
I was asking one of my classmates if they were dressing up for Halloween when he said that. I didn’t respond. How could I? I wasn’t talking to him and yet he intruded the conversation to say that! I just stared at him and he stared back like he had just told me I have cancer and only a month to live. He looked at me like he felt sorry for me! Gayer than you already are.
I didn’t realize I already was.
I ended up dressing up for Halloween despite what happened but for some reason I felt uneasy that day and didn’t know why until I met up with my peer helper during gym class. Being a freshman I somehow ended up in the peer helping system and met up with my very own peer helper every other week. I never shared what happened between me and that boy but I was reported to my counselor once I shared that I once had thought about committing suicide due to issues in the past. As I met with my counselor the topic of bullying came up and I managed to tell her what happened. But when I thought words of wisdom, reassurance, or even sympathy would escape her lips, what she asked left me stammering.
“What is your sexual preference?”
I gawked at her and told her I was straight. I could see the imaginary post-it on my chest and saw that it remained blank. My counselor seemed unsatisfied; as if she thought I was lying or was in denial. It wasn’t a complete lie. I just didn’t know for sure. I couldn’t help but wonder why she would ask though. If I told her I was gay would that change anything? Would it matter? I continued peer helping afterwards but the questions still lingered in my head.
Freshman year continued. Since my meeting with my counselor, my seating arrangement had changed and I sat far away from the boy. However, distance didn’t stop the awful words that attacked me nor did the heavy feelings of uncertainty in my heart. I began to feel confused and angry because I was confused. Suddenly my label began to have some sort of high importance. Eventually, I built up the courage to turn to family about my “label problems”.
Sexuality has always been an awkward subject in my family as it wasn’t a topic that we could always talk freely about. I always try to avoid it seeing that it always led to some argument or left my father with the assumption that I was trying to “come out of the closet”. The thing is both family and friends seemed to assume that I was gay because of the way I acted. I wasn’t the manliest boy but it wasn’t because I liked guys. I suppose I act the way I do because of how much time I spent with my mother and her friends and seeing that I was quite the mimic in my younger years, I managed to (involuntarily) pick up on some female mannerisms I found intriguing as a child. And although no one would say it out loud, I could tell that my family, specifically my father, was afraid of me being gay. But I didn’t think it was because he was homophobic.
In fact, I think he reacted so strictly because he didn’t want me to get hurt. He was trying to protect me. My father knew how many people treat those who were labeled “gay” and didn’t want anything bad to happen to me. Nonetheless, I refrained from talking to him about my dilemma and instead turned to my mom’s cousin who has had a brother who came out and was shunned by their father.
When I spoke to her she asked me the same question my counselor did and I responded with the same lie. And like my counselor, her response was something I wasn’t very enthusiastic to hear.
“You know there’s nothing wrong with being gay. I’ll still love you.”
Although her intentions were good, I couldn’t help but feel angry with her. It’s like she saw that my label was gay! What she had told me wasn’t news to me. I know that my family will love me no matter what I label myself as! I know that it’s okay but why are they making it seem like I need to know now and assume I’m in denial when I don’t even know who I am?!
Sophomore year came and the heavy feeling of uncertainty had transformed into a desperate need of knowledge. What did I like? Who did I like? What did others see as my label? Straight? Gay? Bi? Asexual? But my label was still blank. I was lost. Why was everyone’s label so clear to them? How did they know? More importantly, why did they need to know?
And then it clicked. I can’t remember how it did, but it did. My label was not important and held no prestigious significance. I couldn’t let it define who I was and what kind of person I was going to be. It was my actions that would define my character. It was my talents, my weaknesses, my passions, and my experiences. That’s what should be important.
Junior year approached and we read Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, a story about a woman who had to wear a scarlet A on her chest to show her society that she was an adulterer. But she did not allow the letter to define her. She let her kind and benevolent actions show who she really is and that the letter sewn upon her chest was nothing but a letter.
It was the first time my label was no longer blank. I realized I did have a label.
And that label read, “Me”.
“No.”
“No.”
He felt his heart break and prayed that this was just another one of those moments where the girl in front of him, the one he’s been in love with ever since he met her in his freshman Spanish class, was teasing him like she always did. He was waiting for the moment she would break into a gorgeous smile and laugh at his shocked expression. But it never came.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice so dry he wasn’t sure if she heard him.
Dominique swallowed and looked at her best friend with sad eyes. She loved him so much, maybe even romantically, and she undoubtedly supported him and his dreams in becoming a famous musician. And she was so proud of him for receiving this amazing opportunity to travel with another well-known artist, even if he was just the opening act. But what he was asking of her, to go with him on his tour, was too much.
“Gabe,” she sighed. “I just can’t. You know I want to more than anything bu-”
“Then say yes and come with me!” Gabe cried. He knew he was being whiny and needy and should’ve just respected her answer but he wanted her to be there with him, for him. Dominque has been by his side since the beginning and he would even go as far as to say that she was one of the major reasons for his dreams coming true. Without her believing in him, Gabe probably would have never believed in himself.
Dominique shut her eyes and let her head fall down in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees as she sat down on the bed of his hotel room. They were having such a great night. They watched a musical on Broadway, something Dominique had been dying to do since she’s been in New York, and ate dinner at a place Dominique never thought Gabe could afford. She was having an amazing time with her best friend, catching up with him and seeing how he’d grown into a mature and handsome man. When they got to his hotel room, she thought they would cuddle and watch whatever hotel cable could provide – the end to a perfect night.
“Gabe, I am so proud of you, you know that,” Dominique said, her face still in her hands and her soft voice filled with defeat. “But I can’t just drop everything I have here.”
“Why not?” Gabe asked incredulously. Deep down he knew it was selfish and unfair to ask Dominique to leave her priorities in school to travel with him and watch from backstage while he strums a guitar but at that moment all he wanted was for her to be with him.
“There’s nothing here for you, Dom.”
Dominique’s body flinched as she raised her head to look up at him. Gabe looked just as handsome as he did when he picked her up. Even if his previously styled jet black hair was now unkempt from him running his hands through it and his white buttoned up wrinkled with the top few buttons undone, Dominique never thought she would see her best friend look so attractive. But the words that left his plump lips left her stunned with hurt. How could he think that she had nothing to lose when she had struggled and tried so hard to build things up in a place she knew nothing about? Dominique didn’t have a chance to respond as Gabe continued.
“You didn’t even want to move here in the first place!” Gabe pointed out. “And we both know that Lucas hasn’t been taking care of you.”
“Well maybe I don’t need to be taken care of!” Dominique said defensively. “And so what if I didn’t want to move here? I adapted. Just like I do for every shit situation I’m in!”
Gabe wanted to argue but he knew she was right. Dominique was special like that. Even when thrust into something where absolutely nothing is going her way, she’ll find a way to make it work out in her favor. He envied her for that and always wanted to do the same. But Gabe was stubborn and any sense of logic and understanding that he had left had now dissipated his desire for Dominique’s accompaniment and love too powerful for him to think clearly.
“Oh so now I’m a shit situation?!” he snapped. Dominique’s eyes squinted up at him, her mouth agape at how ridiculous he was being.
“What? Gabe, that’s has nothing to do with what I said!” Dominique exclaimed, her face back in her hands before raking her fingers through her dark hair.
“I can’t go, Gabe,” Dominque stated firmly. “There’s nothing either of us can do about it. Can we just accept that and enjoy the rest of this night without fighting?”
But Gabe wasn’t backing down, even if his conscience was desperately pleading him to accept the misfortune of not having his best friend accompany him.
“Of course,” he scoffed. “Let’s just accept what Dominique wants because what Princess wants Princess gets. Because she deserves it. The little saint.”
What’s funny to Gabe is that, despite the venom coating his words, he knew she deserved it. Dominique deserved having her wishes granted because that’s always what she’s done for others, Gabe especially. In fact, this was probably the first time that Dominique had said no to him. Every other time his best friend would be more than willing to help him with his English paper for his sixth period or stay late to help him clean his house after a rowdy party. But at the same time, Gabe loved her. No. Gabe was in love with her. And being separated from her was the worst feeling he had ever endured. So now that she was here, in front of him wearing the most gorgeous dress, he didn’t ever want to let her go.
Not again.
Gabe had done well in high school, concealing his true feelings for her because he knew she didn’t need a boyfriend as much as she needed a best friend. But this time was different. This time Gabe couldn’t control himself from thinking about removing her dress from her body and kissing every inch of olive skin. He couldn’t control himself from imagining strumming his guitar onstage in Berlin and pointing to the crowd where Dominique had a reserved spot, dedicating his song to her. He couldn’t control himself from wanting her to be with him.
“Gabe,” Dominique’s voice sounded like it was straining and it made Gabe’s heart hurt a little. “You’re not being fair to me right now.”
“I know,” Gabe said softly, his voice seeming to strain too. He shut his eyes and kneeled in front of Dominique, his hands brushing over her soft, bare knees. “I know, babe.”
They were silent for a moment. Dominique was crying quietly. She knew she was breaking yet another heart of her closest friends. First Lucas. Now Gabe. The only difference being that Gabe was handling it better than Lucas who had kicked her out of their once shared apartment, forcing Dominque to room with her friend Vanessa whom she had gotten so close to over the small time she’s stayed there.
“I’m sorry,” Gabe said finally. “I just love you so much and seeing you here and spending time with you reminded me of how much I’ve fallen for you. How much I’m in love with you.”
Dominique looked up, her tears almost dry on her face. She was surprised to say the least considering that Dominique had a crush on him when she first met him but let go of the feelings when she saw him more as a brother. At the same time, she was a bit annoyed. She thought that Lucas was the only boy in her friend group that liked her romantically but after hearing Gabe’s confession she was starting to wonder if any of her other guy friends liked her that way too. I need more girlfriends, she thought.
But Gabe chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna try anything. I guess I just got a little carried away when I saw you.”
They were silent again. Dominique wasn’t really sure how to respond or how to pick up the conversation from there. Luckily, she didn’t have to.
“I love you, Dominique,” he said, as if testing the phrase. “And that’s why I want you to come with so badly. Because I know that when I leave, I’m going to leave you all alone with no one to look after you and I know you don’t really need anyone looking after you but it gives me comfort to know that you’re okay.”
Dominique furrowed her eyebrows and sniffed a little. Gabe’s focus was still on her knees covered by her dress and his fingers mindlessly rubbed shapes on her smooth calves.
“I guess I just have this mindset that if I love you and have you with me, then you’ll be safe,” Gabe continued. “But if I leave you, nobody’s going to give you the love that you deserve. And you give so much love, Dom, and not once has someone ever given it back to you.”
“You did,” Dominque said immediately. “You always did.”
He shook his head and chuckled before finally looking up at her. “No, babe, I didn’t. But I promise you that one day somebody will. Some lucky guy is gonna sweep you off your feet.”
Silence again. They stared at each other. They loved each other, they did, but it wasn’t the same. Not anymore. But there was still love there. Not the kind of romantic love that they were so used to hearing and wanting. It was some kind of unlabeled love. A feeling they couldn’t really explain but something that only they could share.
“And the lucky bastard’s gonna be able to tap that ass too.”
Dominique laughed and shoved his chest playfully. Gabe grinned and took her hand and kissed it lovingly.
“You’re an idiot,” Dominique smiled. Gabe stood up and sat next to her, pulling her into a tight hug. He brushed a kiss to her head as she sighed deeply into his neck.
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I’m going to miss you too,” Dominique said back. “Any chance you can reserve a ticket for me so I can come visit you? Maybe save a spot for me in your bunk?”
Gabe smiled and laughed a little before pulling back and tilting her chin up with his fingers. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her nose, making her smile.
“How can I say no?”
Acquainted With Raisinhood - Excerpt from Chapter 1 and 2
At first I didn’t see what was happening or understand why Lennox looked so terrified until I glimpsed through the cracks of the crowd and saw two boys fighting in the middle. I felt myself immediately get excited because, as unfortunate as they were, a fist-fight was probably the best kind of entertainment a kid can get in school. However, as I looked closer, I felt my heart drop and a wave of nervousness overcome my body when I recognized one of the boys to be Ryan. Lennox and I sprinted towards the chanting crowd, shoving our way through to get to our friends. For some reason it wasn’t a surprise to me to see Dylan there too as he was wrestling with a boy wearing a leather jacket while Ryan was punching and pushing who I realized was Leo, the freshman from the rally.
Lennox immediately made her way to Dylan as I rushed towards Ryan whose head was currently locked under Leo’s thick arm. I knew that I should’ve acted like Lennox and tried to break up the fight as peacefully as possible but seeing my friends being mistreated like that made me instinctively punch Leo square in the jaw. When I heard a faint crack I hoped that it was the sound of Leo’s jaw and not my wrist when my fist made contact with his face. I thought I heard Lennox cry out for me to stop but I didn’t get a chance to glance back at her as Leo kneed my abdomen and shoved me away from him causing me to fall on the ground with a thud.
I panicked a little when it looked like Leo was going to kneel next to me and continue to smash my face with his abnormally large hand. I would never admit it aloud but the sight terrified me to death. I don’t know what I was thinking picking a fight with someone who looked like he ate a dozen raw eggs and could shred cheese with his 12-pack abs but it was probably going to be the last thing I’ll ever see. At least that’s what I thought until Ryan pulled Leo’s broad shoulders back and shoved him away from me. I pushed myself off the ground and heard Lennox scream. I turned around to see Dylan being straddled by the dark-haired boy in a leather jacket. Dylan tried his best to block his face from the boy’s violent strikes but was grunting in pain from the blows on his stomach. Lennox screamed for the boy to get off Dylan and threw punches of her own.
That was when a girl with colorful hair pulled Lennox away from Leather Boy and shoved her roughly aside which eventually ignited another fist-fight. I quickly made my way towards them trying to pull the girls apart but was interrupted when Ryan slammed into me and from there it was all a blur. I was hitting and shoving people I couldn’t see, my hair was being pulled, my skin was being scratched, and so many people were yelling. There was so much going on that I didn’t even notice two other girls and my friends Ben and Chase joining in. I could only imagine what we all looked like though. I wondered if it was like watching those fights you see in the cartoons. The ones where a group of people start beating the shit out of each other but all you can see if a cloud of smoke and the occasional stars and “Pow!” or “Bang!”
It felt like we were fighting for hours but it didn’t occur to me that all of this transpired in the span of about five minutes. At the screeching sound of a whistle, I looked up to see Mr. Oriega with a face as red as the tie he was wearing. Moriarty, one of the security guys at the school, was behind him sporting his signature trucker’s hat and a baggy shirt with the school’s logo on it. Moriarty separated Lennox and the other girl with ease as Mr. Oriega attempted to separate Dylan from Leather Boy. Ryan had released his grip on Leo and the two random girls froze from their positions on Ben’s and Chase’s backs while I stood there awkwardly disheveled.
But as the rest of us stopped our fighting, Leather Boy and Dylan were still going at it. All of us watched Leather Boy continue to slug Dylan with such ferocity and speed that Dylan was having a really hard time protecting himself, desperately gasping for air as the boy’s weight crushed him. Leather Boy ignored Mr. Oriega’s orders to stop and merely pushed the assistant principal aside every time he tried to pry him off Dylan. The kid was completely animalistic.
“I said that’s enough!” Mr. Oriega growled, gripping Leather Boy’s bicep and yanking him roughly away from Dylan who was panting heavily and glaring daggers at the violent boy in front of him. Leather Boy squirmed in Oriega’s grip but eventually stopped when the administrator’s hold tightened around his arm. Still holding on to the delinquent boy, Mr. Oriega pointed at Dylan with a chubby finger. “You. You need to go to the nurse?”
Dylan shook his head but his eyes were still glaring at Leather Boy. To be honest, Dylan looked like he could’ve used a trip to the nurse. His face was starting to swell and bruise and there was no doubt that the rest of his body was pretty messed up too. Ryan didn’t look too bad but his hand was rubbing the side of his stomach and his hands were red and swollen. Lennox looked a little roughened up too but she didn’t look like she had any bruises just a really messy nest of crimson hair and smudged makeup.
“Get to class!” Oriega ordered, sending pointed glares at the crowd of students who were trying to hang on to the very last second to see how it would all end for us. They were no doubt going to start spreading the word about the full-out “mini-war” to all their friends. Knowledge is power, I guess.
I didn’t even realize that the bell rang until I noticed the sea of students heading to their fifth period classrooms. Some of us started to do the same and went to grab our backpacks when Oriega stopped us. He didn’t say anything, only snapped his chubby fingers and pointed to his abnormally small feet expecting us to walk over to him like trained dogs. We exchanged glances at each other but obeyed, refusing to make contact with his dark eyes. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about Oriega when I first came here. Out of three assistant principals, Oriega was apparently the most lenient but I never interacted with him enough to see if that rumor was true.
“This is the first month of school so I’m going to make this easy for all of us,” he said once we all stood around him. He still had his grip on Leather Boy, who had ceased his struggle to escape the short man’s hold, and Moriarty stood menacingly behind Lennox and a girl with curly bleached blonde hair and strings of neon pink and blue highlights. Everyone was panting heavily and looking at each other with caution, as if one of us were going to start another round of ass-whoopin’.
“All of you are going to get to class, get some ice if you need to, and forget this ever happened,” Oriega explained but I doubt anyone was really listening. “And this will never happen again. You don’t want to be friends? Fine by me, just don’t start any fights in my school.”
That surprised me and seemed a bit unrealistic. I mean, a fight breaks out in school and he was just going to let it go? I know that if this happened at my middle school, we’d all be suspended and get letters sent home to our parents. Still, I didn’t complain and considered myself lucky. Mom would have a heart attack if she found out that her youngest kid, her “baby,” had gotten in a small Hunger Games match at school.
The assistant principal was met with silence but the tension was undeniably present. Dylan and the boy in the leather jacket never broke eye contact and the longer they stared at each other the angrier they seemed to become.
“We good?” Oriega asked, his arms outstretched as if to prevent them from jumping on each other again. No one nodded or explicitly agreed, fully aware that he was talking more to the two boys glaring daggers at each other. Oriega was met with silence once again.
“I said, are we goo-”
The two boys lunged towards each other with fire in their eyes and loud battle cries escaping their lips.
And chaos returned after that.
Chapter 2:
Growing up in a strict Christian school from kindergarten to middle school, the principal’s office never seemed to be a place that a student would want to avoid at all costs. Granted, it was different when your name would be called over the PA but other than that you were considered the chosen one when asked for an audience in the prestige mystery room. I’ve only been in there a handful of times. It wasn’t much. Really crowded, stocked with random papers that seemed to be important, the smell of a recent reheat from a cheap microwave, and the occasional coffee smell. The only thing terrifying about the room was the school’s secretary Mrs. Benjamin. The sixty-five year old woman had teeth as yellow as the stack of tardy slips on her clutter of a desk, fake nails and hair, and the most outdated pair of neon glasses.
The principal’s office of Killman High School, however, had its own daunting atmosphere that left me feeling uneasy. Sitting down in an uncomfortable chair surrounded by a bunch of your friends and some random students that apparently have experience in bar fights is definitely not the best position to be in. I still don’t know how Mr. Oriega managed to bring in eleven students into a small office without them killing each other. We all sat divided with our respected sides. Dylan, Ben, Chase, Ryan, Lennox and I sat to the right of Principal Hank while Leo, Leather Boy, and the three other girls sat to her left. I was the only one sitting in a chair in front of Principal Hank’s desk on my side while a pretty girl in a zebra print dress sat in the other chair.
As seemingly peaceful the process was to move us all in the principal’s office, the minute we all got into our seats everyone burst in a chorus of angry slurs towards the opposite side. Some were even screaming at poor Principal Hank who sat in shock at the fiasco taking place in front of her.
The girl that was sitting next to me was even yelling in another language. So far, I’ve only had a few weeks of Spanish class but I somehow managed to understand every word. And boy, was she a fiery one.
“Estas pinches putas de madre son pendejos y se cagaron con mis amigos. ¿Y sabes lo que pasa cuando la gente joden con mis amigos? ¡Cosas malas!”
Which basically translated to something about assholes fucking with her friends and her not being happy about it. To be honest, I was a little distracted by how pretty she was. She couldn’t have been a freshman. At most she was a junior. I tried not to stare at her long black hair and how oddly attractive she looked when she was possibly cussing out Principal Hank in Spanish. It wasn’t until Principal Hanks let out a throaty yell that the room became dead silent.