Day 52 - Lucas

I went to high school with Lucas. He was a year older than me, played tuba and was gay. I'm pretty sure he was the only person near my age who I knew was gay. Of course, at the time, the only other person who I personally knew and knew was definitely gay, was my uncle. Knowing my uncle is gay was never a big deal for me. There was no real discussion about it; he loved a man, not a woman, what's the big deal? I feel like I always knew. (In fact, I grew up not really understanding the "are they - aren't they" question. You loved who you loved, who cared?) So, the mere fact that Lucas was gay, was not, to me, a big deal; however, I did go to a school in white suburban Texas and the majority of my peers were born into a fairly strict Baptist environment. I don't think they shared my exact belief. I'm not sure how "out" Lucas was, mostly because I never asked. Teenagers talk, non-stop, and I had a vague understanding.

The summer after my sophomore year, I went to France with some of the members of my school's French Club. Lucas was one of about twenty of us. We flew to Paris and met up with two other school groups, both from the mid-west. Their Minnesota accents amused us and those of us who had Texas accents amused them, so the pronunciation of English words was brought up quite frequently. One night, we were walking down a street and we were again comparing words, in particular those that had a long 'A': 'tag', 'wag', 'bag', etc.

Maybe you can see where this is going?

I brought up the word 'fag'. I didn't do it to be malicious, but that is never the point. The point is I initiated a moment where 5 of more kids were walking down the street, taking turns saying, "fag" and giggling. I would liked to have erased the last five minutes, crawled into a hole and hidden out for weeks once I realized Lucas was yelling from behind me to stop. I tried, lamely, to explain that I did not necessarily mean the word when it refers to gays. I'm pretty sure I even brought up the fact that I could have meant a cigarette just like the one he was smoking. Again, that wasn't the point.

This is one instance when I used language I knew was not considerate, but only began to regret it once a friend called me out on it. I think most of us try not to, but tend to speak without completely considering our words. I know I still do. Someone who will confront you and ask if you were really thinking about what you said: those are the best people to surround yourself with.