A Boy Like Kevin

His name was Kevin and he lived down the street from me when I was twelve years old. He lived
down the street from you too; in fact a boy like Kevin lived down the street from everyone. He was
one of those lanky, soft-spoken boys that walked indistinctly along the fringes of every
neighborhood, wishing for invisibility but achieving only a small degree of translucence. They’re the
ones who hasten past the parks where boys like my older brothers and I filled our days with
basketball and fistfights. Kevin never came into the park. With his Walkman’s headphones forever
glued to his ears and his Cindi Lauper t-shirt tucked neatly into his jeans he was always on his way
to somewhere else.

It was just as well. The boys in the park didn’t care much for Kevin. They said he was a “queer”.
They said that the fact that he didn’t even defend himself when they would holler “Hey faggot” at him
from the handball courts confirmed that fact. One time Jimmy McHugh, one of the toughest guys in
the park, intersected Kevin’s path on his way into the park. Jimmy grabbed him by the collar and said,
“Mornin’ faggot”, then he spit right in his face. When Jimmy released his grip, Kevin simply regained
his quick pace away from the park. The other boys and I watched from behind as Kevin’s arms rose
timidly to wipe this stranger’s spit from his face. Within seconds the other boys were laughing and
high-fiving Jimmy, afraid if they didn’t they would be next.

At twelve years old I had little idea of what all this meant. I just knew that whatever Kevin was, or
whatever faggot meant, it was not a good thing to be. Later when I questioned my brother as to
what it meant he replied with something about perverts and child molesters who lived in Greenwich
Village. He followed up his explanation by asking me why I had asked, “You’re not thinking of turning
queer are you?” he goaded, “I don’t want no faggot brother.” I wasn’t. I was just wondering why
everyone hated Kevin so much. Even my grandmother, a good-fearing woman by any definition,
warned of Kevin going “straight to hell” if he didn’t change his sinful ways. She would always add
that it was a shame because “he seems such a nice boy; he always wishes me good morning.”

I think of Kevin often these days. The recent presidential election in which a platform of narrowly
defined “family values” catapulted its proponents to victory, served to place him in my thoughts.
When Shortly thereafter the election of a pope who vowed to keep people like Kevin from sanctifying
their relationships was quickly followed by an amoral conglomerate like Microsoft withdrawing their
support of civil rights for all, I couldn’t help but wonder how absolutely subjugated Kevin must be
feeling. I often wonder if The President, The Pope, or Bill Gates are simply glorified versions of those
boys in the neighborhood park so many years ago. If they are grown-up versions of those park boys,
I wonder if they mimic more the tyranny of bullies like Jimmy, or the cowardly boys like me who dared
not challenge the opinion of the masses for fear of being unpopular.

It seems curious that President Bush, leader of the “Free World” would campaign so painstakingly
for legislation that would ban gay marriage. His debatably titled Defense of Marriage Act would be the
first time since prohibition that the Constitution of the United States would be altered to curtail
Americans’ personal freedoms. Amendments to the constitution are traditionally passed to expand
our freedoms. That it would curtail only the freedoms of a certain kind of American should be an
outrage.

Few realize that this conservative dogmatist, early on in his bid for reelection, wrote a letter
congratulating Rev. Neil Thomas, senior pastor of Metropolitan Community Church of Los Angeles, a
lesbian/gay/bisexual/transgender church known for performing gay marriage ceremonies, on their
years of faithful service. In it President Bush wrote, “By encouraging the celebration of faith and
sharing of God's love and boundless mercy, churches like yours put hope in people's hearts and a
sense of purpose in their lives.” Those are not words one would expect to be written by a man so
vehemently opposed to gay marriage.

So what then, one must ask, caused the president to do such a complete turnabout? In a word:
votes. One doesn’t have to be a civil war buff or a child of the civil rights movement to realize the
power of fear and ignorance on the American public. It is enough to acknowledge that our country
has been split apart more than once due to these two societal diseases.

The same holds true on women’s issues; our country has refused ratification of the E.R.A. since its
submission to the states in 1972. It has been publicly derided as legislation that would have women
abandon their families, apply for jobs such as police officers and firepersons (God forbid), and even
have full privileges to the men’s room at your local restaurant. Scare tactics such as these had not
only men, but also women speaking out against ratification of a bill aimed at ensuring that equal
rights for women would be guaranteed under United States’ law. This opportunity for empowering
women slowly deformed into a witch-hunt for “Dyky feminists”. Though the pyres of that witch hunt
have long burned out, The E.R.A. is still today held in stockades on the congressional floor. It is
interesting to note that the fifteen states that today still refuse to ratify the E.R.A., with the exception
of Illinois, have also all supported President Bush and his ban on gay marriage.

Suspicious too is the tenacity of newly elected Pope Benedict XVI, or the “Rotweiller” as his
congregation knows him. A man elected to spread the words of the proclaimed Prince of Peace
chooses instead to advocate intolerance. He clings to the definition of homosexuality as a sinful
choice, while scientific studies bring us closer everyday to understanding that homosexuality it is a
consequence of biology; it is not a lifestyle choice. Such power has he to lead the world into a new
millennium of understanding and tolerance for others; one can only hope he will seize the
opportunity. It makes me wonder if Kevin still goes to mass on Sundays.

Sunday morning mass was one of the few places that Kevin shone, it was here that he most came
alive. Singing in the choir, his teen-aged falsetto sailed high and luminous above the other voices.
One could truly fathom it reaching the heavens, an impassioned prayer directly into God’s ear. I hope
that despite politics and religious hardliners, he is somewhere still singing to God – and that God is
listening. I hope he has learned to accept himself and not be afraid. I hope he is not walking
hurriedly past some park, afraid of bullies great or small, powerful or pious; bullies who will spit in
your face simply because you are different. Simply because you are a boy like Kevin - a boy like me.