Please read Chrislove's diary about the tragic loss of yet another young LGBT person. Kenneth J. Weishuhn Jr. took his life this weekend after being bullied relentlessly at school. He came out only a few months ago.
Every time a story like this breaks across my twitter feed (far too often), I find myself unable to do much of anything for a while. And I have to say - until right now, I've never understood my reaction. The shock. Rage. Horror. Anger. Disgust.
These are terrible tragedies, but we see terrible tragedies every day. Just today I attended a lecture about the decades-long, ongoing tragedy in the Congo. Why does this albeit awful news about someone I never knew hurt so much?
I didn't get it until I read Chrislove's diary, and watched the heart-wrenching video a few of his friends put together. I started writing a comment and the words were on the screen before I even realized what I was saying.
"I am so ashamed."
Because this is my fault.
Harvey Milk told us, when he was running for office, that it was our responsibility to give people, especially young people, hope. Hope for a tomorrow that is better than today.
There are those in the DailyKos community, and around the internet, and in the real world, who've taken a special interest in this, raising awareness by sharing stories like Kenneth's, and working tirelessly to embolden and empower young people. And yet for every voice that's been trying to remind him that It Gets Better, sometimes it feels like ten others are screaming the opposite at the top of their lungs.
Providing/creating/demonstrating/giving hope, then, becomes an exercise in numbers and volume. It's about making sure that every voice that is capable of doing so is spreading that hope, and doing so at the top of our lungs, at every possible opportunity. Because only when we all stand together and shout with one voice will our voice be loud enough to drown out the hatred and bigotry that pervades our culture.
I've had a really decent life. I have a family that's always loved me no matter what. I've been in and out of love. I've gotten and am still getting an education. Professors, other students, mentors - everyone knows that I'm gay, and that I want to work with the LGBT community after law school. And every one of them, to a person, has been supportive. Every one. I have not yet felt compelled, in politics, school, or the legal community, to run away from or hide from my sexual orientation.
That's the story I get to tell. Maybe it isn't the right way to do this - I don't know - maybe the It Gets Better video is just a way for us to come together and share our often-disconnected lives with each other. Maybe this diary is just some vain attempt to find absolution.
Whatever it is that I'm supposed to be doing, though - whatever it is that is going to be effective - whatever could've shined a light into the secret darkness in which this poor young man lived - whatever I should've done, I know I didn't do it. I know I failed. Because Kenneth and countless, nameless others are gone.
I'm so sorry, Kenneth. I'm sorry I've spent my adulthood thinking that homework and class reading and dating and Democrats and Contracts and money are somehow... important. At all. Nothing was more important than giving you hope, and I failed.
I haven't done enough to fight and work to change the society and the culture and the schools and the politics that stole everything from you so that you thought you had nothing left to look forward to.
Rest in peace, Kenneth. I'm so sorry.
7:50 PM PT: You know, maybe this is counterproductive. And I'm sorry if it is. Or if it seems like it's just about me. The people who knew and loved Kenneth are the ones suffering tonight. I know this diary is emotionally charged, and that it's off-the-cuff. I'm just - and I know there isn't anyone in this community not with me on this - but I'm just SO ANGRY.
Every time this happens, every time someone like Kenneth loses his/her battle with a world that seems so much like it doesn't want him/her around, it's just devastating. And some of us got such a better deal, and that had nothing to do with anything we did. It was just dumb luck.
I think that's where this guilt comes from.
But tomorrow is better. We are reminded again and again, even in the face of such terrible atrocities, that It Gets Better. Or that we make it better.
We just have to. Because this has to stop. Right now. Today.
Thanks for reading.