For Jamey.

Hey everyone. I hope you aren't feeling pleased with society today, because I'm about to completely kill that for you if that's the case. If you aren't interested in my verbally punching society in the face, it may be a grand idea to not read this particular post.

Jamey Rodemeyer. You may or may not have heard his name pretty recently. He was a 14-year old gay kid who just started high school. He was a selfless kid who always put his friends before himself. An avid Lady Gaga fan, he planned to attend a school dance in a dress modeled after one of hers. He often included her songs in his social networking, such as the "It Gets Better" video he made on Youtube or the lyrics he'd post on Tumblr. He always kept up with Queer news and was clearly on his way to becoming a great activist. He's the kind of kid I'd love to be friends with.

And in case you're wondering, he's dead.

Because, once again, someone else decided that they weren't comfortable with his sexuality and had to take it out on him. And so they did. They bullied him at school and online, leaving hateful comments about his looks, sexuality, and very existence. It was so bad that therapy and parental support weren't enough to make him feel better. So he killed himself.

I can't express everything I'm feeling right now. A lot of unadulterated rage. Overwhelming pain. Complete failure. It's sickening. I've held this in for a week and I can't anymore. A member of my community, a little brother, killed himself. I want to cry but I can't yet. This is so fucked up. And I won't take this sitting down. I am SICK of this. Sick of little fucking bullies learning from big fucking bullies that it's cool to torment someone over their sexuality. Sick of lawmakers not doing a fucking thing to help because they're afraid of what their constituents would think. Sick of schools not making an effort to prevent this or stop it when it starts. Sick of crying parents and heartbroken siblings. Sick of goodbye posts and the feeling that I have failed in my mission again.

Last year around this time, Tyler Clementi, Asher brown, and other kids in our community took their lives after being bullied, just like Jamey. And when that happened, I went through this process, broke down and reformed, with a promise to those kids and myself that I would do anything it takes to make this a better world for my community. I still have a candle dedicated to those children on my desk next to a purple ribbon. I've lobbied at the Texas capital on their behalf, and received a non-specific, half-assed anti-bullying law for my efforts. No, Jamey is not from Texas, but I know people all over the U.S. lobbied for those kids last year. It is clear now that it is not enough.

We need to change everything. The concept that queer is abnormal, that it's something shameful or sinful, that it's something scary. That parents shouldn't talk to their kids about it when they're little. That it's enough to let celebrities like Lady Gaga take up the cause while we sit here and grieve, "oh, how sad that that happened to him" (that happened to US ALL). That it's enough for lawmakers to hand us a non-specific law, say you're welcome, and return to ignoring us.

And so we rediscover the concept that no problem is as simple as it looks. You can say this was a problem between Jamey and some brats. But that's not just it. You can bring in the parents of each side, and the school. But that's not just it. You can bring in lawmakers that control these schools. But that's not just it. This is a problem brought on by the entirety of our self-serving, conformity-loving society. And as you can see, it trickles down through all the branches that make a society, until it chews away at people who are different. People like Jamey. People like me.

I'll take this moment to finally come out. I was Jamey. I had support from my family, had a therapist, gave as much as I could to my friends, but I was absolutely dying inside. People couldn't handle my queerness. I'd be at Baylor, surrounded by the gay jokes, the condescension, the hell-bound remarks, the argument that I didn't know enough about life or myself to be Queer, the threat of rape to turn me straight. No one wanted to help me get over my breakup because it was a Lesbian breakup. No one wanted to help me find other people in my community. No one wanted to hear my discontent. It was my job to suck it up. So it wasn't very hard to find a bridge, a rooftop, or a knife, and contemplate sticking around for the next joke. There were so many times. I came so close to never making it to the next school. And if I hadn't, I'm positive I wouldn't be here.

But the thing is, I did make it. I don't know why I survived and Jamey didn't. I just know I kept seeing my family's faces whenever I'd be on a bridge, and I'd procrastinate a little longer. But I made it to the next place. And I found my community. I found my best friends, my mentor, the girl I'm falling for, my hidden talents, my strengths, my weaknesses, my voice, my favorite places, my relief. And the thing that kills me the most is knowing that I found all this and Jamey never will. I know exactly what he missed. I would have shared all of it with him, but I can't. Society killed him before we could even meet.

My point with all this is that you really have no idea how close this problem is to you. I don't look like someone who'd consider jumping off a bridge, but I was. Jamey seemed like a happy kid to his friends, and he's dead now. We're both fighters, but society managed to take one of us out. These misconceptions are killing people. So when I tell you that we need to be having conversations over sexuality, that we need to take care of each other, that we need to be DOING more, I mean it. I have a lot of visits, phonecalls, and general outreach that I'll be doing because of this now. This is something that affects everyone. This is something you can help prevent.

Rest in peace, Jamey. I renew and include you in my promise to do whatever it takes to help the Queer community. And I am so, so sorry.