An Open Letter to the Queer Kid I Bullied in High School

              This past week the internet and social media were abuzz with Jimmy Fallon’s “Saved By The Bell” reunion.  Like so many others who grew up in the 90’s, seeing the Bayside High gang back together was gloriously nostalgic. I can recall countless days sprinting home after the bus dropped us off to catch the show and hear that equal parts wonderful and God awful theme song.  As a young Chicano from the barrios of Albuquerque, New Mexico it was a big deal to see Mario Lopez on television.  And his character, Albert Clifford (AC) Slater was my hero and I emulated my high school persona after him (curly mullet and all).  To this day, many of my close friends still call me AC and post pictures of me side by side with Slater (see below).

In high school, being a football player, wrestler, jock, and “man” was such an integral part of my identity. I felt incredible pressure to be this person at all costs.  This hyper-masculinity was ubiquitous at my high school.  Whether you were a jock, gangbanger, tagger, or rocker, displays of manliness, heteropatriarchy, and machismo were normative and almost always celebrated. 

After watching the recent Jimmy Fallon sketch, I wanted to find an old picture of me with this legendary mullet to show my fellow doctoral students.  Ironically, the evening before the sketch aired I happened to bring up how AC Slater epistemologically informed so much of my identity as an adolescent.  As I was searching the internet I found out that Classmates.com (yes that site still exists) actually has scanned in many high school yearbooks.  I was excited because sadly I lost my over-priced “tome of nostalgia” years ago in my many moves.  Nevertheless, as I was searching for my best AC Slater mullet pic, I began to browse the senior pictures section.  I went page by page looking at all my old friends who I swore I would “K.I.T.” with, which didn’t happen…

As I clicked on the next page I saw “his” face.  My stomach fell out from under me.  I was looking into the eyes of the only openly queer kid that I can recall at the “Mecca of machismo” we called high school. As I stared at his face, I was bathed in embarrassment, guilt, and sadness.  I remembered all the times I tormented and bullied this kid. Having my other jock “friends” shove me into him, knocking his books out his hand as I whispered “pick them up fag.” Shooting spitballs in his face as we sat waiting for the bell to ring after lunch.

I remembered all the times my actions eroded at my soul. 

In retrospect, I did not pick on this young man because I hated his lifestyle, truthfully I really did not have reservations about his sexuality. I did these atrocious acts because I was afraid and jealous of him.  In a sea of pubescent wanderers, he seemed to be one of the few who actually had a grip on who they were.  I was jealous of his confidence.  I was nowhere near having an understanding of who I was or really wanted to be.  Even though I was an above average athlete I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I could not play at the highest levels.  Despite this, I hung on to that delusional pursuit, declaring that with hard work in the weight room and off season I could defy the odds. He seemed to have none of these doubts and disgracefully I hated it.

Looking back I remember being jealous of how alive he was.  How vibrant and sure of himself he seemed.  There was an honesty that exuded from him despite incredible risk.  And ultimatley that is what I was trying to take from him. In my shameful attempt to be a “man” and make him less honest, alive, and human, I proceeded to lose own humanity. 

In writing this letter to this brave young man, I want and deserve no congratulations, for I am a coward.  A coward for subjecting him to such torment and for having not truly admitted it before.  Far too many of our young LGBTQIA familia are taking their own lives because of behavior and actions similar to my own.  I can never fully understand the pain and suffering I subjected this young man to.  And I deserve to live with the shame and guilt that I feel on a daily basis.  Much of the work I do now focuses on social justice issues, and yet, I cannot truly commit to this work unless I come clean regarding my own oppressive and hateful history.

To my brave fellow high school colleague, I want you to know that I can never fully apologize enough for my actions and behaviors during our times in those halls.  You were and still are a far better human than I am. But I want you to know that I am fully committed to doing everything I can to combat hatred, patriarchy, heteronormativity, and bigotry, and my three children will know of your bravery and the cowardice of their father.

As I write this letter I re-watched the Jimmy Fallon sketch and perhaps it is fitting that AC Slater traded in his wrestling singlet for a leotard. My hope is that just maybe he too is trading in this faux machismo for a more artistic and inclusive persona. I know I am.

Roberto