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 Homophobia: the college years
When I first entered college, I was so excited, I was positively beside myself. I was finally "grown up". But as much as I felt like an adult, I quickly discovered that age had nothing to do with maturity. Many of my fellow students were just as childish as the kids in my elementary school.
It was therefore not terribly shocking to me when I became a target, a victim of the "grown up" bullies who attended my classes. The women weren't nearly as aggressive as the men, towards me, but they did their fair share to make me feel different. Men called me "faggot, poof, gay boy, bum, burglar" and many other equally unimaginative, demeaning insults, while the women shot me looks, and avoided me as though I was as contagious as the ebola virus. I thought that one day they would get tired of it, and they would stop. I never lowered myself to their level; turning the other cheek, and ignoring to the best of my ability.
But they didn't stop. And my patience could last only so long. So I got help. First, I told my parents, who have been just as supportive of me since I came out, as they were before. Together, we looked into some local groups that support people in my situation. And it worked! Just talking to the people that answered the phones at these organizations did wonders for my self-esteem.
With their continuing support and encouragement, I decided to leave that school. I didn't want to be a part of a community such as that one. And it was the moves I've ever made. I found myself in another school that provided its own support groups and pride clubs. I've never felt more welcome.
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