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

if i slumber

if i slumber
will i ever awake
if i succumb to the
darkness
will it consume me
snatch up my soul and
devour it
like a midnight snack

 hear my breath echoing

against the walls
feel the ache
of sleeplessness

 the thoughts that fly

flutter and spin in my
mind
my body and spirit
spiraling
free-falling

 i count my sorrows by

the minutes spent staring through
the night
and my joys by the delicious and
tantalizing
visions that occasionally find me
and my fears by the gut-wrenching and
horrific
nightmares that overtake me
more often than sweet dream

 i count each rip in my heart by

the tears my fingers have
made in my pillowcase
i number my broken dreams by
the times i wake up with a jolt
wishing that i could return to
my dream world
but knowing that the
next realm i visit
will be a land
of horror

 so i lie awake

force myself to subsist
on as little sleep as is
humanly
inhumanely
primitively
minimally
possible

 i’d rather remain frozen in a

permanent state of
insomnia
than face the
nightmares
that knock me
facedown and frightened
with my blankets on my
bedroom floor

Feel

*I wrote this one over a month ago, but never got around to posting it... It was right after my ex broke up with me... It's about how I wasn't able to feel the pain*

I don’t feel the pain.

But I can hear it.

Deep inside, I know

it’s there.

When I open my mouth

to talk about it,

my voice cracks,

chokes,

dies.

As my voice cracks,

my eyes leak.

Just a little.

Not much.

But enough.

Enough for me to

know that the

pain is there

and there’s enough

of it to make me cry.

When friends offer

their comfort,

it reminds me that

I need to be

comforted,

which means that

I’m hurting.

I know I need

the hugs,

but if I choose

to accept them,

I choose to

acknowledge the pain.

I know the pain

is there, but

I can’t feel it.

If I can’t feel,

how can I heal?

How will I know that

the pain is real?

How can I grieve?

I want to feel.

I just don’t want the pain.

Changing Seasons

Daylight comes.

Nighttime stays.

Bright blue skies

And cloudy days.

Touch of raindrop,

Sunshine sweet.

Silver snowflakes,

Pouring sleet.

Heart of silver,

Precious tears.

Changing of seasons,

Throughout the years.

spider web tale

weave for me a
pretty spider web tale
and I’ll listen to
every word

share with me

the delightful secrets
of the universe and
what lies beyond
 
unlock the untold
mysteries and show
me the answers to
all life’s questions
 
paint my name in
the midnight sky
and take my hand
so I can fly

Don't touch my life

What makes you think
that you’re entitled to be
a part of my life?
 
Is it that
we’ve known
each other
for so long,
been so close,
and you just
can’t let it go?

Are you still

grasping onto
the false hope
that maybe we’ll
reclaim what you
thought we once had?

If so, you’re

just kidding yourself.

It won’t happen.

It’s gone.

Stop holding on

to this twisted

delusion.

I’ve drawn this line.

Can’t you see it?

It separates me

from you and the

life we had.

See this line?

That’s where my

life begins.

Don’t cross it.

See this life?

It’s mine.

Don’t touch it.