By Jackie Montalvo
Back in my sophomore year, I transferred from a private out of town high school to the larger public school a couple blocks from my house. Sitting in a class called Multi-Cultural Perspectives, I met Lucas. He was a guy that whenever the teacher would leave the class, or under his breath in front of our African American teacher, he would make a smart-assed remark about women, people of color, or anyone with a different sexual preference.
Dressed in our schools scarlet and grey football uniform, I watched as he whispered to the other football players around him, laughing and joking about our Friday class that was replaced with a substitute teacher and the movie The Laramie Project. In case you’ve never heard of the movie, it’s about a gay man in Laramie, Wyoming who was beat and left for dead by two men. The murder was later deemed a hate crime, and the experiences and reactions of the people of Laramie was turned in to a play and later a movie.
Our elderly substitute sat in the back of the classroom, her glasses reflecting the crying and heartache acted out on screen. When we’d finished the section allotted for the day, we sat in the bright fluorescent lights waiting for the bell to ring. I overheard Lucas make an awful remark about the man who was killed; something along the lines of, “It was his fault.” I had reached my boiling point, I’d watched him laugh with his friends about people of color, I watched how he spoke down to the girls in my class and refused to take them seriously, and now I’d heard him say a gay man deserved to die for who he was.
I turned towards him and asked why he said that? Wasn’t this class meant to teach us about acceptance? Lucas’ smile remained as his eyes squinted at me and he said something under his breath about how I should just go worry about my “Buddhist religion.”
I exploded with anger yelling, “You racists, sexist pig. Who do you think you are?” The rest of the class stopped their conversations to look at me. The new girl who knew no one, who had no real friends yet, yelled at this guy. They had watched this guy mistreat anyone who was even slightly different than him, and no one had said anything.
I spent my lunch period in the art studio shaking and trying to wrap my head around what I’d just done, or if anyone would ever be my friend after I yelled at this popular football player. I emailed my teacher that day when I got home to apologize for acting in such a way.
Jackie Montalvo is a journalist, college student, and travel junkie.