Live Through This by Clay Cane

Author:Clay Cane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Live Through This
ISBN: 9781627782197
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2017-04-08T04:00:00+00:00

“YOU FAGGOT NIGGER!” KATIE BARKED, PUSHING ME against a locker, finger in my face. This was my daily hell in seventh grade, I was harassed by my evil peers in middle school. Black, effeminate, and beyond different, I was bullied so aggressively that the victims of bullies actually bullied me. They called me Buckwheat from the Little Rascals, Lamar Latrelle from Revenge of the Nerds, and every explicitly racist and homophobic epithet they could conjure. I was one of few black kids at our school in Vancouver, Washington. My walk, talk, and look were beyond comprehension for someone like Katie, who personally hated me. My classmates had zero understanding that I had a white parent, which I was never bullied for. I was bullied solely for my blackness and gender expression—the identities they could see. Racists and homophobes do not chop up your resumé of identities; they only acknowledge what makes you different from them.

Katie was a privileged prep, with her Keds shoes, Guess jeans, huge Aqua Net—sprayed hair, and loud mouth. She was taller than I was, wide-bodied, and the official monster of the hallways. I strategically planned my routes to each class to avoid her harassment. This particular morning I was rushing, deciding to take the shorter route, and accidentally brushed up against Katie in the hallway. She went ballistic with a smile on her face, enjoying the crowd surrounding her.

I kept my head down, not making eye contact, trying to edge away as she backed me up against a locker. “Look at me, nigger!” she demanded, pushing herself into me. “Are you touching me, fag? Don’t touch me, fag!” She pushed her breasts against my right shoulder and, with a quickness, smacked me across the face. Her crowd of evil bandits laughed, including Brett, her sidekick, a scrawny rich boy, who only harassed me when Katie was by his side.

“Hit him again, Katie!” he egged her on. A rage boiled in me; I was about to explode, still feeling the sting of Katie’s slap on my face. A millisecond before I was about to go for her throat, Katie was pushed away, crashing against a locker near me. Belinda, the resident “white trash” of the school, who adored me, was now in Katie’s face. Belinda was much shorter than Katie, had stringy blonde hair, never wore makeup, consistently donned a black getup, and lived in a trailer park. As small as she was, her presence was intimidating. She always smelled like a pack of cigarettes, had a quick mouth and a hot temper, but only if you pushed her buttons. Belinda hated most things: the teachers, the students, the school, and especially rich girls like Katie.

“Leave him alone!” Belinda roared.

“Why are you standing up for him, Belinda?” Katie cried, trying to fix her hair, which was damaged from the collapse into the locker. “He’s a fucking fag!”

“He’s not a fag! And why do you care? Why don’t you go fingerbang yourself in the bathroom a second time?” Katie was rumored to have gotten caught masturbating in the girls’ bathroom.

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