Letter to the Principal

I wrote this letter to the principal at my school, after some friends reported an increase in anti-LGBTQ* bullying at our school.

Tuesday, 22 April 2014

Dear Mr. Ellis:

My name is Hailey Saul. I am a senior here, an active member of the Gay-Straight Alliance, and I myself am a lesbian. I began to come out in November of 2012, midway into my junior year.

My purpose for writing this letter is to bring your attention to an increase in anti-LGBTQ* bullying in the past couple of weeks. As I am sure you are aware, the students in GSA, as well as a number of other students, recently participated in the National Day of Silence, a day of action in which students across the country vow to take a form of silence to call attention to the silencing effect of anti-LGBTQ* bullying and harassment in schools.

In the past two days, two of my peers have approached me and informed me that they have been bullied multiple times since the Day of Silence. Both of these peers are sophomore girls, one is a straight ally, while the other identifies with the LGBTQ* community. Both girls reported to me that, on multiple occasions over the past week and a half, they have been called “dyke,” “rug muncher,” etc. The phrase, “Go to hell, dyke,” has also been uttered. The second girl commented to me that she has been insulted more in the past two weeks than she has in the past two years. We do not know the identities of the perpetrators of this harassment, as they have not had the nerve to insult these girls face-to-face. Rather, they have been yelled at from across the quad, passing cars, etc.

I know that you take pride in the unique culture we have established here, and I have taken pride in that as well. Part of what made coming out less difficult for me was that I perceived our school to be a tolerant environment. In the past year and a half, since I began to come out, I have not had one person insult me to my face about my sexual orientation. I have always taken pride in telling my LGBTQ* friends from other schools and other States about how my school is a safe environment and I have not encountered any harassment. In light of this, I am appalled and disturbed by this regression.

I do not intend to generalize, but it appears to me that the harassment is occurring  primarily amongst the lowerclassmen. I, as a senior, have not heard anything negative since the Day of Silence, but my sophomore friends have been repeatedly harassed. Our school is supposed to be different. It would be a shame to lose that pride and integrity that we hold so dear as the upperclassmen graduate.

I understand that by participating in the Day of Silence, we did in a way “set ourselves up” for additional harassment, but I believe that this bullying, as any other cases of bullying, should be addressed. This harassment defeats the entire purpose of the Day of Silence. I hope and trust that you will take whatever measures you feel are appropriate and necessary. Thank you very much for your time.

Sincerely,

Hailey A. Saul

A Day of Silence

Written: Friday, 11 April 2014

Posted: Monday, 14 April 2014

There is something about silence that cannot be explained. In some ways, silence can contain within itself more power than words.

This morning, I woke up long before my alarm. On a typical day, immediately after awakening, I would jump out of bed and bring myself to a full state of consciousness by blasting music – usually Halestorm, 3 Days Grace, or sometimes P!nk – through my headphones while I select which men’s shirt I’m going to hide in my backpack until I get to school. How I am going to present myself once I’m outside of the house that hasn’t felt like a home in years, once I’m beyond the borders of the world where my orientation is a subject that we avoid like the plague for the sake of keeping the peace.

But this morning was different, because today is the Day of Silence. Instead of creating my usual musical escape to drown out my thoughts, I stayed in bed for awhile, gazing at the ceiling. In the semi-darkness, I allowed the silence to envelop me like a blanket. The stillness was calming, cleansing. I slowly rose, descended the stairs, and looked out my kitchen window to watch the sunrise.

The silence we are symbolizing today, however, is not so peaceful. The silence we symbolize is a prison that confines far too many members of the LGBTQ* community. It is a silence that enables anti-LGBT bullying to continue. It is a silence that both instills and results from fear and shame within the hearts of people who should not have to be afraid and ashamed to be the person they were born to be. It cuts deep holes in hearts, tears relationships apart and throws them to the ground like frayed scraps of fabric to be swept up and thrown into the trash, and too often steals away the lives of people who have so much to live for. Words hurt. Whoever said "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me," was obviously delusional and most likely straight. But sometimes silence hurts even more.

Our silence today reminds us of, and awakens those around us to, the deadly cloud of silence that looms over our heads, spreading its poison like carbon monoxide filling our lungs. Our silence today is sacred and unifying. It connects those who have broken their silence, those who still live in silence, those who are in the middle ground between silence and speaking out, and those who simply care to see those who are bound by silence be made free.

Our silence today is strong, beautiful, and perhaps an even more powerful tool than words to put an end to the silence that hurts many everyday.

DAYofSILENCE.org