Before my father passed away he spent some time in the Intensive Care
Unit.
He was assigned Bed 2 of the 5 beds that were arranged in a semi circle.
The other four beds were occupied but it was impossible
to know who lay under the blankets their faces covered by oxygen masks – and it
really did not matter if they were male, female, black, white, beautiful, ugly,
old, young, gay, straight, trans, bi, Buddhist, Christian, Muslim or Jewish.
For the most part, all 5 lay very still, the only sign of life came from
the constant beeping of the monitors. The night that death came for Bed 4, time seemed to freeze for a few
seconds. The ICU went completely silent for a few seconds and life was
suspended for a few seconds. Then life took over very quickly and the beeps immediately
got louder, more insistent, more urgent, the monitor’s lights were flashing red
and the medical team was at the bedside in seconds. It did not matter who lay
in the bed. When you meet death, face to face, you are not a label... you are
precious life.
The labelling starts when you are only 9 or 10 years old; sometimes your classmates
see in you something which is ‘not normal’, and you are labeled and you feel
ashamed for being different. Most times it gets worse in high school. Sometimes,
most times, the labels are purposely offensive and belittling (gay, freak, fag, retard, douche, homo,
loser). Sometimes you get beaten up.
Sometimes you tell a teacher or an adult,
and you get told its only banter, you need to man-up. You try to
suppress who you are and pretend to be someone else. Sometimes it works. Mostly
it doesn’t.
Sometimes you hate yourself. Most times you don’t know who you are
anymore.
Sometimes you find someone
who is like you. Sometimes this is good, sometimes this is bad.
You miss school
to escape the bullying. Sometimes you give up on school altogether.
Sometimes you
give up on life. Sometimes the suicide attempts are a consequence of the depression that is brought on by the bullying that is started by a label.
You push through, hoping it will
get better when you are 18. Sometimes it gets better.
You come ‘out’, now the
world knows your secret. Sometimes there is more shame, more labels; this time from
parents, siblings and grandparents. Sometimes you find yourself all alone
because your family does not want you to be a part of the family.
As an adult, you can be who
you want, live how you want, love who you want. Sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes the
shame follows you. The labels follow you.
Sometimes, most times, you
are defined by your sexual identity, not by who you are.
In the end, you are and always have been a precious life.
On UnCommon Ground is a Social Enterprise I started because of the frustration and helplessness I felt watching my son go through so much suffering during his teenage years.
The labelling of anyone who is perceived to be different needs to be stopped.
OnUCG's exists to support those whose lives have been affected by labelling, who are passionate about living life on their own terms and who are looking to change the status quo.
OnUCG's exists to support those whose lives have been affected by labelling, who are passionate about living life on their own terms and who are looking to change the status quo.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/OnUCG
Twitter: @OnUCG
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