Written: 06/15/2011
My job at summer camp this year has put me at a different desk, in what used to be the Reservation Director’s office (a wall has since been removed to join it with the office behind it, and I now share the large room).
But as we were setting things up and moving furniture and whatnot, a poem, which had been written over a picture of the lake, fell off the wall. Some of the guys picked it up and asked about it, before putting it on the desk. It turns out the author was gay.
Note: I took the photo home with me that summer, to made sure it was safe, and it always brings a smile to my face when I see it.
So the jokes and slurs started to fly. Camp is a tough place, and for a gay member of the Scouts, it’s even harder. It’s pretty much acceptable to throw around slurs, and the homophobia can run rampant. I tried to ignore it, but even for me, someone who has learned to ignore so much, and has kept quiet for so long, it was getting to be too much.
I eventually walked away, even though the jokes and slurs continued behind me. Falling asleep was tough that night, especially imagining the the looks of anger and sadness that I’m sure many of my friends will have.
But I have to remember that it’s their loss, not mine.
All my best,
The King of Spades
