Intervention X 2

  
He called me from my dorm room. I was confused. We were recently broken up; there was no reason for him to be in my room. He was my first boyfriend and 10 years older than me. I was more mature.

I listened to the message from a friends room.

"He Jason. Why did you break up with me? All I want to do is talk. Can't we talk? I love you. Please let's talk. I'm in your room. Come home and we can work this out. Why are you shutting me out? Call me. Please call me. I'm not responsible for what happens if you don't. I just might die."

I panicked, picked up the phone I had just hung up, and dialed my room number. He answered.

"Jason is that you?"

"What the fuck are you doing in my room? Get the hell out or I'm calling security."

"Please can't we talk? Al I want to do is talk. Can't we do that?"

"We've talked, and I'm done. We're over! That's it."

"No. No! I'll kill myself right here if you don't come over. We can work this out. You don't want your roommate finding me here dead in your room. Do you?"

I hung up. My friend calmed me down and told me to call security. I did. Then, I called him back.

"You want to kill yourself," I said. "Go ahead. Just be quick about it. I've called security and they are on their way. You better be either gone or dead by the time they show up. I don't want to clean up your blood off my floor." And I hung up.

Security didn't find anyone in my room. He never called me again. I was proud I stood up for myself.

Years later, I recounted this story to my dad. He gave a slight chuckle.

"What?" I asked.

And he told me that my ex had called him and wanted to meet. My dad obliged. He begged my dad to talk to me and get me to reconsider. My dad told him to go to hell and stay away from his son.

I have never been more proud.

Unexpected Friends

  
They were my friends in college, and thanks to them I see the world differently.

I was the only out queer on campus, though not the only queer. They were not queer but understood. I had more in common with them than the closeted ones. We were action-oriented and , at times, antagonistic.

There was a meeting of the Student Council to determine the policy on LGBTQ issues and clubs. Homosexuality is sinful in the Catholic doctrine. The council was split: half liberal, half conservative. The decision for or against could go any way and would determine if I could keep the LGBTQ club, continue facilitating anti-homophobia trainings, and remain an out student.

They were not a part of the LGBTQ club. Rather, I was a part of their Commitment To Diversity group. They were mostly folks of color dedicated to changing the University of St. Thomas. I was proud they accepted me, and in return I had to confront my privilege and racism.

They were with me at that meeting when I screamed in front of the entire council and their college advisers of professors and priests, "It doesn't matter who I fuck! I deserve the same god damn rights as you!" They applauded. I cried.

That was the beginning of the end of my stay at St. Thomas. I can't remember the outcome of the decision. I was emotionally spent trying to justify my existence and experience to powers that didn't care and active worked against me.

I lost touch with them afterwards, but thought of them often. Then, I joined Facebook. They were and are there. We reconnected.

I admire that they stuck it out. They all graduated and continued on to higher education. It is amazing to see, 14 years later, that we are doing what we set out to do: we are changing the world; we have committed to diversity as a way of life.

A Meeting

 
We met at the seminary, but he wasn't a seminarian. I can't remember the exact circumstances; they are unimportant. I don't remember staring at him; he does.

He was short and stocky, North Minneapolis born, straight and straight-laced. I was a suburban boy, freshly out and scared shitless. We were worlds apart in many ways but one: we both knew what is was like to be an other. We became fast friends.