M—,

Wow, that sounds right.

You actually might have been there. I thought I was alone because I was singled out, but there could’ve been other people with me.

It’s a weird thing where I remember certain details clear as day, but not other details or the general context of that incident. I repressed it deep. I had completely forgotten about it, until I was talking to C— after his recent trip to Richmond.

He told me about some guys that yelled some slurs at him as they drove by. It made me think for a second, back through all of the street harassment I’ve gotten in my life, and I caught the threads of that memory. It was fuzzy and kind of vague, and I didn’t realize, until I saw his reaction, that it wasn’t a normal experience. That, like, I could’ve actually have been killed. I had no reference point to understand what exactly was happening to me at the time. I never questioned those people doing it to me, because it aligned with my self worth at the time. It was the exact same way everyone treated me up until that point.

It felt normal, because it was normal.

I thought I was the things they were yelling at me, you know?

Just being able to spend time with the guys I’ve gotten to know this past year – C—, G—, J—, and T— – has let me compare notes with other gay guys. The more I’ve been analyzing it with them, the more horrified I get.

Frederick was pretty bad, but Harford County was so much worse.

When I took the story of that Gang of Four back to Kevin, he also only vaguely remembered it. I guess I never truly acknowledged what happened, because it would have been too much to keep living there, knowing that was outside my poorly secured apartment door.

I think that’s what the whole wedding put into view for me, just that I was actually in an incredible amount of physical danger throughout my whole life.

I’m starting to be able to set down the trauma and exhaustion of having to be in much motion all the time. I honestly don’t know how to be that person anymore, because it just took so much work. And I am so tired.

I’m glad I talked to you about it. You were my first stable queer friendship, and it carried me through college.

Thank you for that, M—. It made all the difference.

❤️
TK

*****
A message to one of my oldest friends, after learning she was with me during the assault. She kept me safe.