Advanced Essay 2 Declan Zisser

I was young, and very protected. I was shielded off from all the harmful things that the world produces. I didn’t understand the negative, and I hadn’t experienced the negative. I spent my first couple years in the world going to “Mommy & Me” music classes, private preschool, dance classes, and my mom made me go to theatre camp. I grew up in a courtyard in Society Hill, and one of my best friend's parents were the head of the Republican Party of our protected neighborhood. I didn’t know what else was out there besides Starbucks hot chocolate, and arranged playdates. But I did finally have my first experience with the real world when I was 5.

I wanted to do Karate. I was inspired by all the Bruce Lee movies my dad showed me. He would always tell me not to tell my mom I was watching them. My mom was against the idea of me going to Karate classes because she didn’t want to see her baby get hurt, but my dad was all for it. The pride a father takes in their son being a champion is something you could only understand if you were a dad. They spent time looking for a “nice” dojo for me to go to, but there really wasn’t much for a 5 year old. I went to a place called Zhang Sah. It was an odd experience for me, I didn’t know anyone. No one here grew up where I did, and I knew no one. All the other kids gathered in a group and made friends with one another, and I was left out. A lot of my classes were spent like this, and I was always the one being targeted. I didn’t exactly mind, since the purpose of this was teaching someone self defense and I was well aware of the concept we were practicing.

I felt the most vulnerable in the locker room. I never knew to get changed in the locker room, or to go to the bathroom and get changed there. I remember when I went to the gym with my dad, and he got changed in the locker room. So I just did what he did. We all would go into the locker room before our class started to get into our uniforms, and put away our bags. All the other kids were laughing and talking, while I was left to myself. I was nervous to get changed in front of people. I took off my shirt cautiously, and slowly. I knew they were watching when I heard the conversation start to quiet, and I knew some of the other kids were peering over in my direction. I continued to take off my blue jeans, this was what I thought we were supposed to do. Their conversation came to a hush, and all the kids bursted out in laughter. I was nervous, and I didn’t know why they were laughing. One of them approached me.

“What you doing?!”

I looked at him scared.

“You gay for that.”

I was now confused, I didn’t understand the context of that word. After the day was done at the dojo, my mom picked me up. She strapped me into my seat, and we started driving. I was quiet, still thinking about what I had heard earlier.

“Declan, why are you so quiet honey?” My mom asked.

“Some kid called me gay. What does that mean?” I responded.

I could tell by the look on my mom’s face she wasn’t happy. She was silent for a few moments as well. I understand now why she wasn’t happy with the name I was called. All of her best friends were gay, and those friends were the same people that babysat me. It was something that she didn’t have to face anymore, and she found it so sad that a 5 year old would just say that. Homophobic beliefs are not something you just develop, they are taught. Whether if it is through religion, or close minded parents.

“It just means happy, Declan.”

She was silent after that. We continued the drive home, and I felt a sense of reassurance that I now understood the name I had been called. But I knew that’s not what that kid had meant. He meant to call me gay, like actually gay. I was able to pick up on that. A few days had past and my head was still wrapped around on this situation. I had to ask again, but I didn’t go to my mom for the answer this time. I went to my dad. We were going to the nearby park, and he was giving me a piggy-back ride.

And somehow in the most innocent voice you’d ever hear, I just came out and asked my dad “What does gay mean?”

My dad seemed shock, that wasn't a question he’d be prepared to answer for a 5 year old. He came up with a very simple answer for me.

“Well, it just means another boy likes another boy instead of a boy liking a girl.”

That was simple, it was music to my ears. It didn’t seem like a big deal at all, this was minor. What a pointless word. And I connect this back to the theme. Homophobia is something you teach. It is developed. If my dad had phrased what gay meant in a negative way, my positive thoughts about gay people in this country would be flipped. If only that kid’s parents said to him what my dad said to me.