In the 90s, especially in high school environments, homophobia wasn’t just common, it was socially reinforced. Gay was used as an insult, casually and constantly. People rarely questioned it. Teachers didn’t intervene unless things turned violent, and even then, the issue addressed was the aggression, never the prejudice. It was an era when appearing different, even slightly, could make you a target. Most people avoided standing out if they could help it.
During that time my grandma gave me a pink terrycloth nightgown. On her it was a nightgown, but on me it fit more like a long shirt. I thought it was amusing and comfortable, so I wore it regularly without giving it much weight.
Each time someone hurled gay slurs at me, I replied, “I’m secure enough not to care what other people think. Can you say the same?” They usually followed up with more immature remarks, which I’d call out too. The problem wasn’t what I wore, it was that I wasn’t afraid to wear it.
In the 90s, especially in high school environments, homophobia wasn’t just common, it was socially reinforced. Gay was used as an insult, casually and constantly. People rarely questioned it. Teachers didn’t intervene unless things turned violent, and even then, the issue addressed was the aggression, never the prejudice. It was an era when appearing different, even slightly, could make you a target. Most people avoided standing out if they could help it.
During that time my grandma gave me a pink terrycloth nightgown. On her it was a nightgown, but on me it fit more like a long shirt. I thought it was amusing and comfortable, so I wore it regularly without giving it much weight.
Each time someone hurled gay slurs at me, I replied, “I’m secure enough not to care what other people think. Can you say the same?” They usually followed up with more immature remarks, which I’d call out too. The problem wasn’t what I wore, it was that I wasn’t afraid to wear it.