The Unbecoming of the Closeted Gay Kid

It didn’t even occur to me that Tim might be gay. In hindsight, the first sign was the relentless bullying. We were in 9th grade, attending a small-town mostly-white private school in the south. We chummed the shallows of a high school pecking order determined only by your attractiveness, charisma, and athletic ability. Tim was effeminate, loved theater, and mostly hung out with girls. I recognize this isn’t a smoking gun on someone’s sexuality — but it did paint a target on his back with our hyper-masculine classmates, who were a fan of human piñatas. When Tim walked down the hall, one guy would yell, “fa….” and the other guy would shout, “get”. It was an intentionally feeble attempt to hide their slur in full view of everyone. These were your typical insecure 14-year-old suburban rich kids who acted tough and listened exclusively to 2Pac and hardcore rap, despite never having been within miles of the projects or any gang. They were clearly compensating and trying to feel older and tougher than they actually were. Each of us got our turn being bullied. But Tim got it particularly bad. He was frequently called a queen and “Sally”. Paper balls were thrown at him. I saw someone outright tripped him in the hallway, kicking his foot sideways from behind, so that he’d trip over his own feet. In Tim’s defense, he got in the guy's face and started yelling at him. He was capable of fighting back. <a href="https://seanjkernan.medium.com/the-unbecoming-of-the-closeted-gay-kid-c44398a1dc6f">Learn More</a>