"Why you beating him up like that?"
"Because he thinks he knows all the answers," came the spitting reply. Then, just like that, I was released. I stayed on the ground until they left, picking up what was left of my sixth grade dignity.
Even as an adult, and one that is as crazy as it seems, with an AARP mailer at my front door every other week, that memory is seared into my thoughts. They are, in fact, much like the last four years. I am rarely political, I share my views with a close circle of friends, sure in the fact that we all are on the same page. But these are no ordinary times and for four years, listening to the country's President bully and devalue its citizens while others, like some family members, cheer and champion a bully of unprecedented proportions, made me revisit memories I would soon forget.
For, if you've never been called a faggot before you even knew what that word meant, spit at walking to class, had your favorite jacket burned with a cigarette on the bus while being dared to say something, or threatened to get the shit beaten out of you because a stupid fool copied your tests and you had the wrong answer, then I envy you. If you've never been blocked from crossing the street until you said a Hail Mary prayer, then I envy you. If you've never been told your boss doesn't like you to your face, that you'd be denied promotions, then I envy you. If you've never been told to stop talking to someone's boyfriend because despite the fact that you did not start the flirting and the deranged lover got in your face and threatened to make life a living hell, then I envy you.
Being bullied doesn't have to be as blatant as all that, and today, my sympathy goes out to everyone who can't escape it on social media. (Such an ironic term. There is nothing social about that type of media.) For me, the taunts ended when I got home. I had a respite for a few hours before it started all over again.
And wow, these last four years were a turbulent time on so many levels. And if someone I know is lamenting that Donald J. Trump has had this election stolen from him, then I do not envy them. This commander-in-chief has given rise to all those bullies who sat in the shadows. He's given them permission to come out from the darkness and make their ugly existence known. They've always been there, but unlike when I was a kid, there was always a place to go for protection. The classroom, my house, my mother's simple presence at the kitchen table. Something was there to say it was going to be okay. But for four years, those protections were gone and those cheering at rallies and posting online only served to amplify the hate.
As a kid, I picked myself up from the sidewalks. I ran home to avoid the beating I was promised. I took the sign off my back that said push me and thew it in the trash. I collected my text books from the stairwell, wiped my face and made my way silently to my next class. I found joy in a circle of friends who were like me, who thought like me and who would never judge me. As I grew up, I kept good friends close and jettisoned the ones that were toxic. Republican or Democrat, your political views were of no concern to me. But this cult defies explanation. It's a decision to follow that I will never understand, except to say I can finally see how Jim Jones got so many to kill themselves and how Charles Manson could convince others to slaughter innocent people.
When the President in the 80's refused to acknowledge that gay men were dying, my hatred towards him wasn't visceral. I was still too young to carry that much disdain. It was years later before I realized the damage one man had done. But this time, there was no hiding, there was no excuse. The reality star in the White House was doing damage beyond comprehension. And as this 2020 campaign kicked off in high gear, I have been terrified of what another four years would do, not only to the country and the world, but to the state of my mental health. I'm no longer that young kid that can run home to the safety of his mother. I can't hide in my room and think the next day at school will be better than the last. All I could do is what I did do. I mailed in my ballot and I voted. And I prayed. And, when the final news was announced, I sat in my happy place and I cried.
Today, watching the current outcry of a stolen election has been, in a strange way, enjoyable. If I had taken my tormentor's books, if I had burned their jackets, would they lament how unfair the world was to them? Would I have been hauled into the principal's office? Would they be like that stupid ass who got upset because his copied answers were wrong? Bullies never change. They are shape shifters, always there, just below the surface until they are given a hint of light. And they will always need to be shown that good, just like Captain America, can over power them.
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