Because They Were Different

I don't think there was a time in my life when I was more disgusted then I was at that precise moment. That moment when my heart skipped beats and my throat became as dry as the Sahara Desert.

I needed to be positively sure of what I thought I was seeing, so I closed my eyes and reopened them. And again I saw the same exact image.

"No!" The word was spoken with utter defiance and complete anguish. The sound came from a voice I quickly identified as my own. Why on God's green earth were my two best friends sharing a passionate kiss right before my very own eyes? Why? I thought.

With exasperation at what I had seen, and in order to catch my breath, I leaned against a nearby railing. Gradually I started to regain my composure, but that lasted only for a moment. They apparently had heard the gasp from me because they came running up the stairs with what seemed like a million questions. "What did you see? Why do you look so flushed? How long have you been standing there?" - they said in unison.

Throughout the tortured questioning my emotions arose out of their imprisoned subconscious and I realized that I felt betrayed, lied to, and just simply full of hate. After all they were girls and my closest friends. In that moment, I sought revenge for my anguish - something I would hate myself for later on.

That night I came to terms with what I had seen. Back then I only defined what I had seen as a pure abomination in the name of my faith. The simple act was intolerable and at that time in my life I guess I wanted to prove that to them. So that night I must have made a million phone calls explaining the events that had taken place that day to everyone who answered my calls. And so the next day, hate presented itself in the most recognizable of forms.

I can never forget the moment I walked through those big blue school front doors. I was filled with nothing but anxiety. I felt a nervous invigorative rush that sort of consumed me. I felt like James Bond on some sort of top-secret mission. A certain part of me couldn't have been happier.

At first my two friends were perplexed as to why no one would talk to them but they sort of got the gist of it later as the day passed. Eventually things worsened: people started to approach them and ask them if they were gay. They didn't help the situation by sitting alone with each other at lunch. They provoked the dirty looks they received.

Day after day calamities arose in the happy couple's life. They started to find notes, many of which I wrote myself. Others took it upon themselves to imprint the scandalous word "sinner" across their lockers along with other crude words.

I didn't see it myself but I heard that one of them burst into hysterical tears when she saw her locker. "What did I do to deserve this?" she shouted, and ran into the bathroom where she then dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands. The teachers were never informed because the locker was spray-painted over in the same color soon after.

Unfortunately because of me, these two "friends" endure the destiny they were given - to be tortured in school.

In time, I realized through just living this eccentric experience that everyone's the same; we may love differently but were created equally. If I weren't blinded with jealousy over Jean* taking my best friend Dawn* away, I never would have committed a hate crime.

Why do they call it a hate crime anyway? Is it because you hate yourself after you commit the unlawful act or is it because the crime was committed in hate? I would love to know the answer to my question. Anyway I never got the chance to say I'm sorry. I guess writing this is my way of doing so. These days I turn to my God for answers instead of enforcing judgement upon others.

Christina, 18
Hyde Park, Massachusetts

PT Note: *These are not the real names of the best friends in the article.

Reprinted from Positive Teens Magazine Volume 5 Issue 3, May/Jun 2003

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