Kootenay Lake superintendent Jeff Jones spent his childhood being called a “fag.”
Jones was a sensitive theatre-type, not prone to conflict or confrontation. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but as he approached puberty he found himself the routine target of hateful taunts kid-hurled in his direction.
Words like “queer” and “sissy” were spat vindictively as he walked down the hallways of his school. His peers were bullying him about his fledgling sexuality and for his perceived deviance from their comfortable social bubble.
At first he couldn’t understand why.
“It wasn’t because I was ‘out’ — in those days I didn’t even know what being ‘out’ meant, nor did I really know what being ‘gay’ meant — other than something you never wanted to be because it was apparently something that was deviant and evil,” Jones said.
“I’m not even sure the people who taunted me knew what they were saying — other than it was perhaps the most hideous put-down and slur they could conjure up in their brains. I really have no idea what impact those years have had on me. I like who I am, and who I’m becoming — and am very comfortable and happy in my life. I don’t know how I would have developed in the absence of the abuse — one never does.”
Jones recently shared this story with the community in a blog post to mark the occasion of the school board passing Policy 215, which enshrines the right for students not to be bullied due to their gender identity or sexual orientation.
Though Jones wasn’t involved in the voting process, he spoke strongly in support of the policy before the board’s debate. Essentially, Jones told the board he didn’t want his students to be forced to endure what he went through. As I listened to his story, I couldn’t help but think about my own public school education, the rampant homophobia I experienced in my hometown and my own complicity in forms of bullying.
Growing up in a hyper-Christian suburb, anti-gay bigotry was the social norm, though it was normally couched in silly sing-song aphorisms like “hate the sin, love the sinner.” My community taught me that homosexuals were perverse, sinful and potentially criminal.
But most importantly, they were “weird.”
I remember being scandalized when my high school hired a gay teacher. She was the first homosexual I’d ever met, and we mercilessly gossiped about her behind her back. I fed off the repulsion of my classmates.
It’s at this point I should say that I’m ashamed to admit that as a preteen and into high school, partly due to the influence of my religion, I was the type of kid who openly used the word that had been slung at Jones, all those years earlier. And though nobody would have described me as a high school bully, I had no trouble firing out this hateful language when it suited me.
My mother used to chastise me and my friends for calling each other “gay” in her presence. We insisted the word had nothing to do with sexuality; it was simply a cherished insult of ours.
As it turned out, one of those friends came out of the closet in our last year of high school. It wasn’t until around that time (as I developed independent critical thinking skills) that I questioned my own use of sexuality-themed epithets and recognized homophobia for what it was: reprehensible, knee-jerk hatred espoused by the most ignorant people around us.
One day in Grade 12, I saw my friend approaching in the hallway. He was an aspiring opera singer and had a rich baritone voice that he’d showcased at a number of school events. Books pinned to his side while he headed to class, he was regally swishing across the floor when some athlete-type assholes started kicking at his Achilles tendons, hissing “fag” in snake-like whispers.
“I am a proud fag!” my friend shouted, his voice booming, turning to face his tormentors.
The hallway emptied. I’ve never seen a more inspiring display of self-validation. My forearm hairs prickle when I think about it.
But my friend’s brash and public declaration shouldn’t have been as unusual (or as socially dangerous) as it was. I know for a fact that there many of my queer friends in high school weren’t as brave and weren’t willing to turn and face their tormentors, and many of them waited until graduation to share their sexuality with friends and family.
Because here’s the thing: as Jones mentioned, being “in the closet” is not always an option for Kootenay Lake students, nor should it have to be. They’re confined with hundreds of peers all day long, for years on end, and we need to make sure they’re being valued for exactly who they are.
In his blog post, Jones encouraged the community to aspire towards inclusivity.
“I am reminded that there are many youth and adults who still do not have pathways to learn how to be comfortable with themselves, date and build positive relationships — because being lesbian, gay, transgendered or queer is still fodder for teasing, bullying and abuse. And that’s not okay. It’s just plain wrong.”
Last year, when I had just taken over the school board beat, I covered the Pride parade that went through downtown Nelson. It was one of the first times the Kootenay Lake school district had entered a float, and Jones was walking alongside his lei-wearing pooch.
“Will,” Jones said, when he saw me with the camera. “Let me introduce you to my husband.”
I had met Jones at previous board meetings, and until that point his sexuality hadn’t crossed my mind. It wasn’t until after enthusiastically shaking his husband Alex’s hand and moving on that I realized the gravity of what had just happened: a public official had just “come out of the closet” to me, and it was no big deal.
I’m happy to live in a community where that’s the case. And though he thinks we still have a long way to go, Jones is thrilled that this particular policy has passed.
“There were no bottles of champagne uncorked, no banners flying and no balloons floated up into the sky when the Board adopted Policy 215 – because we have come a long way. But we still have a long way on this journey – maybe to a place where we look back and ask ourselves why we had to have such specific language in polity to protect any human being.”
I don’t have any kids in the school system, and chances are it will be years before I do, but it’s nice to know I live in a community where the school board is being proactive about this issue.
It makes me hopeful that by the time they reach school age, sexuality-based hatred will be a thing of the past.
