The Vow of Silence

So yesterday (4/16) was the Day of Silence. For the first time, I decided to participate. I wasn't entirely sure how effective a form of protest it was, but I decided what the hell. Right before leaving for class, I put a piece of ducktape over my mouth. I'm sure a lot of people thought I did it just to be more visible, but really, it was just so that I wouldn't accidently speak. After today, I don't think it's a very effective way of protesting the "silence" that closeted lgbt people have to go through. The people who were already very supportive of lgbt people thought what I was doing was very brave and strong, but everyone else's response was "I don't get it," or "whatever."

To be honest, none of those responses really mattered much to me. It didn't take me long to realize that taking a vow of silence for a day was a very unsettling reminder of what I went through in high school. I'll explain my day, and hopefully everyone reading this will pick up on the parallels.

I spent most of the day walking quickly and looking down and away from other people. I was terrified of looking people in the eye because I didn't want to be noticed or draw any attention to myself. The duck tape added an extra degree of humiliation. I felt ridiculous and awkward wearing it. No one else seemed to be wearing tape of any kind, so I felt really alone and isolated. I felt ashamed for being so different from everyone, and I was really paranoid that everyone was giving me funny looks and talking about me.

Being with friends was really awkward as well. It was so hard trying to communicate with them without actually speaking. At lunch, one of my friends teased me by saying "We get to make fun of Chicago all we want, and Robbie can't do anything about it!" Chicago is my favorite city and a lot of my family lives there. It's kindof like a second home for me. Making fun of Chicago is like making fun of part of me. It really sucked not being able to defend it.

I also had to deal with not being able to defend myself during class. This one girl asked me about the tape, so I showed her my pre-written card explaining what the day of silence is. She said, "I don't know If I agree with this. I mean, I don't think gay people are forced to endure silence. They choose to." She's definately right in a literal sense. I mean, lgbt people are fully capable of ending the silence by coming out, but I really wanted to tell her that for a lot of people, including me, choosing to come out means risking the love of every single person you care about, and in high school, it also means risking your entire financial support. No kid deserves to be forced to make that choice. It's so cruel. I'm glad that our country is better than it used to be, but there are still stories out there of kids losing everything. I wanted to argue all of this to her, but I couldn't.

Later that night, my friends and I went to this show that my school was putting on. Outside, there was this religious group protesting. They're a lot like the westborough baptist church, but not quite as bad. Still, they have no problem telling everyone, especially gay people, are going to hell. Meanwhile, I just stood there taking it.

At any point, I could've ripped off my tape and yelled back. But I didn't. I just stood there silently. Being silent wasn't quite the same as it was when I was in the closet. There was no fear of people's responses when I finally said something. Still, it was a similar enough experience to remind me of all the shit I used to put myself through. It reminded me of how awkward, painful and shameful it feels to be in the closet. Next time anyone argues that the day of silence is stupid cause it's not a very effective way to protest, I'll probably agree, but I'll argue that it means so much if you look at it more as a reminder of what closet life was like.