by Jim Larkin
"I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
… Its snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill that kill."
–Sylvia Plath
Suicide dogged me throughout much of my young life, nipping at my heels and threatening to swallow me whole.
There were the two times – once was not enough – I was barely able to swing my dad's ladder over to the place, high in the ceiling coves, where he kept his dangerous solvents. I didn't know what turpentine was; only that it contained a warning label that told me it could kill me. I drank it, hoping it would end my misery, only to be found in enough time to have my stomach pumped.
There were the sleeping pills, the only pills I knew how to get my hands on at the local drug store, that I kept stashed in my sock until I could work up the courage, only to have my mother find them and tell me never to bring them into the house again.
There were the stolen moments when I would hike myself up on the oil burner and then hoist myself on the roof of our small home, where I could look down and wonder how much pain would greet me if I threw myself off.
During those early years, I didn't know what was wrong with me, only that I knew I was different from the other boys and felt totally alone. It would take years to find out what was "wrong," followed by years of figuring out I could hide it by acting like all the other boys, followed by years of more pretending and denying who I was and wallowing in the self-hatred that burned so deeply I was sure one day I would simply ignite.
Hate the sin, they told me. And despite what they tell you about loving the sinner, for those living the lie it can only mean one thing: hate thyself. I did a fine job of it.
So I understand a little bit about Rutgers University freshman Tyler Clementi, who jumped to his death off the George Washington Bridge last month after his private sexual encounter with another man was splashed over the Internet. And Billy Lucas, 15, who hanged himself in a barn in Greensburg, Ind., and Asher Brown, 13, who shot himself in the head in Houston Texas, and Seth Walsh, 13, of Tehachapi, Calif., who hanged himself from a tree in his backyard.
All within one month. All victims of anti-gay bullying.
While legislators in New Jersey search for ways to strengthen its anti-bullying laws, we in Michigan don't even have one. We don't need one, say those opposing such legislation, and certainly not if sexual orientation or gender identity are protected by it.
But the fact is we are tiptoeing around a suicide time bomb here in Michigan, one of the worst places in the United States for a gay person to live. We have no state laws prohibiting discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity. We provide no hate crimes protection to members of the LGBT community. We adopted one of the broadest bans in the country prohibiting same sex marriage, intentionally drafted to outlaw even the possibility of any form of civil union.
Our state Supreme Court was ranked among the nation's worst in terms of its policies on LGBT-based rights. And, as Wayne State University Professor Peter J. Hammer so eloquently worded, our state attorney general turned what was supposed to be a shield into a sword and held that the marriage amendment prohibited state employers from offering domestic partnership benefits to same sex couples.
We couldn't more clearly tell our gay youth that they are not wanted, not valued and indeed are not even second-class citizens but something much lower. We tell them by our actions, despite all the ridiculous words about "loving the sinner but hating the sin," to hate themselves. There can be no clearer encouragement of teenage gay suicide than the one Michigan provides.
"Policy analysts always joke that Mississippi rates at the bottom of important state indices for education and infrastructure investment, making Mississippi the butt of many comparative jokes. Michigan may soon well risk being known as the Mississippi of civil and political rights," Hammer noted in his written testimony encouraging the state to amend the Elliott-Larsen Civil Rights Act to include sexual orientation and gender identity.
Yet we have cities say they don't need to protect its gay and lesbian residents against discrimination. We have a state legislator that refuses, year after year, to adopt anti-bullying legislation. And, if polls are accurate, we are about to turn the governorship over to a Republican party that has made gay-bashing a political divisive tool.
The time bomb ticks. And our state "leaders" do nothing to stop it.
Thankfully, a number of grassroots organizations have stepped up in the absence of state leadership to lend local support for gay teens. Many areas – 16 in all – offer Parents and Friends and Families of Lesbians and Gays chapters, all which provide support and many of which provide hotlines (for your nearest chapter, go to http://www.pflag.org). Some community groups, such as those in Jackson and Holland, are calling out for anti-discrimination ordinances. And there are a number of online sites that provide help, including http://www.chadzboyz.com and http://www.youtube.com/user/itgetsbetterproject.
Reach out. It does, despite the best efforts of some to make your life miserable, get better. You have neighbors who know what you are going through and are trying to make your life better, your future more promising. You just have to get there. Please.
