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In the hours of the waiting room, I hoped that she wouldn’t ask for details as to why I was stabbed. It also happened to be her 30th birthday, which we spent in the emergency room. I strategized ways to tell her as little as possible while also not inviting any further questions. I nervously called my mom and told her that I was feeling ok but that some guy stabbed me in the head with a pencil. She confirmed my fears and told me to go to the emergency room. The fear in his face worried me and he told me that because I was bleeding so much, I should go to the nurse. I asked my fellow tuba-player sitting next to me to look at it. I thought I could just take care of it on my own and no one would have to find out about it.
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It was during lunch and I only had one more class left, which was band. My first inclination was to not tell anyone because I knew it would come to light that I was being harassed for being perceived to be gay. Then one day, during one of our almost daily scuffles, Daniel - who was at least half a foot taller than me - stabbed me in the head with a pencil. Kicks and punches, nothing I couldn’t fend off. The verbal threats eventually escalated to physical violence. They teased me and even made a Myspace page about me being a faggot. It was my imagined community at a time in my life where I had none.Ī few guys in my middle school thought I was too gay to like punk. Punk music and its rich history, spanning decades and transporting me to different cities like London and New York, became my haven. Being labeled the “gay kid,” in sixth grade made me a social pariah. I started with The Ramones, which instantly became my favorite, before moving to more hardcore bands like The Unseen or Charged GBH. In seventh grade, I fell in love with punk music. Before I was able to be curious about my crushes on other boys, I trained my brain to stop before ever going there. I didn’t know what it meant, but the scrutiny around my mannerisms taught me that it was wrong. I was 11 when people started calling me gay. As are white men.I never came out to anyone - and the idea of coming out has always been foreign to me. Personal experiences, such as my own might shape some of these women’s thoughts on black men, but I would hope it would not lead them to make dismissive and ignorant generalizations on a race of men.
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There are both great and horrible white and black men.
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There is no difference between white men and black men in general other than their skin color. If you would take the time to read my responses, you would see that I don’t stand for that. I will agree that I get a lot of messages where women completely dismiss and disrespect black men. I cannot regulate the questions that come into the inbox. You say your blog is not intended to be used for hate or racism, but some of the things I've read on here - things that people have asked - are definitely troubling and border on prejudice against and ignorance of black men (dare I say blackness in general?) and a borderline fetishization/worship of white men and whiteness. Anonymous asked: I am in an interracial relationship, but I find this entire movement of some black people openly chasing after white people as partners to be disturbing.