Hate crimes happen to people you don’t know in places you don’t live. They happen to Yusef Hawkins, a young black man who was beaten and killed in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn because the ringleader of the small mob thought that Hawkins was dating the ringleader’s ex-girlfriend. In reality, he had come to look at a used car. I used to live in Bensonhurst, but not in the area where Hawkins was murdered. They happen to Matt Shepherd, a gay college student who was beaten and left to die, tied to fence like Jesus on a cross, by two homophobes. They happen in Jena Louisiana to the Jena 6, who received very different treatment from white teenagers guilty of the same or lesser offenses. They happen to dark-skinned men who are mistaken for Muslims in the aftermath of 9/11.
But last week, a hate crime happened to someone I know. You can read the account here. It’s apparently gotten airplay on local stations, and the police are taking it seriously.
A mutual friend I’ll call Jay called me here in the wilds of GA to tell me that Eric (name changed to protect his privacy) had been badly beaten by two men who asked if he was a faggot. Eric ended up with a concussion and a skull fracture, but the fracture didn’t require surgery so he was released to recover at home.
Eric is someone I saw at least once a week for two years. We were introduced by Jay. We LARPED together. We went to clubs together. We had dinner together. He was the last person we saw the night before we left Maine for Georgia. He is a kind, caring, guy with a wry wit and a wicked sense of humor. He’s not the type to get into fights or antagonize people.
Why was Eric targeted?
He was coming home after midnight from a local club where he’d done a performance with his Goth/fetish performance troop, a troop in which I and my 23 year Navy vet husband were associate members. He’d been playing a mythological creature, which meant he was wearing heavy make-up. Since club bathrooms aren’t exactly ideal for removing theatrical make-up, he’d left it on, intending to remove it at home. He was probably wearing Goth clothing. As we all know, theatrical make-up and ruffled shirts are absolute proof you are gay and deserve to be beaten and punched in the head. Since my husband is rather fond of velvet coats, ruffled shirts, velvet leggings or leather pants and thigh-high boots and has been known to do Goth make-up on occasion, I guess he must be holding out on me about his bisexuality.
Eric is also a very handsome young man. While he’s tall, he’s on the slender side, making him a much better target than someone like, say, my husband, who is the same height but a much heavier build. He was an easier target. I have news for them. My first husband, who died at age 29 of an undiagnosed heart problem, was about the same height and build, and he’d have kicked their asses—he had three black belts and 2 brown in various martial arts. Just because someone doesn’t look like they can kick your ass, doesn’t mean they can’t. Unfortunately, Eric didn’t have his expertise, and he was up against two men.
I cried tears of anger when I heard about this. My husband was furious because he felt that if we were still living in the area, and going to the local clubs weekly as we did when we lived there, he’d have been able to keep this from happening. The truth is, it probably still would have happened, even if my husband had walked him home. Or it would have happened to some other innocent victim. These men were looking for someone who looked gay to them (whatever that means) to beat up. It was motivated purely and simply by homophobia and bigotry. They wanted to hurt someone who was gay. That level of fear and anger and hatred has never made sense to me. Especially directed at someone you don’t even know. While I have occasionally had to channel Alice from Dilbert ("Must. Not. Use. The. Fist. Of. Death!") to keep myself from slapping my niece—the one who tried to get us tossed out on the street because she objected to our religion—when she’s gone into a wingnut tirade, I’ve never felt that way about a stranger.
But right now I am trying very hard not to hate these two men.
Is Eric gay? A reporter asked that question of the police officer who gave the statement. Captain Malloch’s answer was ,"Does that matter?"
He was right. And it is no one’s business, least of all the reporter’s. so I am not gonna answer that question either. Eric’s actual sexual preference had not a damned thing to do with what happened to him. The men who chose him for their victim didn’t know him from Adam, let alone know whether he was gay or straight. He just fit what they imagined a gay man to look like. He matched their stereotype—but so does my husband! Earth to homophobes: in Portland Maine, many gay men look like J. Crew or Abercrombie and Fitch models, not Goth guys. In short, you can’t tell them from the preppy college kids from Bowdoin or USM.
This was a hate crime. Some people here don’t like hate crime laws—to them, an assault is an assault, a murder a murder. They are wrong. In reality, hate crimes are a form of terrorism. Making it clear you are targeting someone for their sexual preference or their manner of dress or their religion or their skin color or their ethnicity sends a chilling message to all members of the group to which the victim belongs. It tells them they’re not equal and not wanted, they’d better know their place, bow to the majority and not get uppity—because they could be next. Whites knew when they lunched an African American man, that all African Americans in the community took notice. Idiots who beat up a Sikh because they thought he was a Muslim (I mean, all turban-wearers are terrorists, right?) were telling anyone Muslim or who looked like they might be, to lie low and watch their step. When 12 year old Tempest Smith killed herself after months of teachers turning a blind eye to crowds of kids surrounding her at free time and singing Christian hymns, it told other Goth and Wiccan kids they better try to blend in, and at least pretend to be Christian.
It is small-scale terrorism, pure and simple, using one person to send a warning to every member of the group. And it needs to be treated at such.
Eric is home, and recovering from his ordeal. But like many people, his job doesn’t pay a lot, and provides no health insurance. An ER visit of this sort is expensive. His friends are doing benefit performances and passing the hat. They’ve also set up a PayPal account
www.healportland.com for donations. Every little bit helps. And this is another reason why we need universal healthcare: Eric shouldn't have to rely on friends and fundraisers to pay off a medical bill that was incurred as the result of someone else's criminal act. I have never written a diary soliciting help for anyone before, and I wouldn’t be doing this now if it weren’t for a hate crime.
I am sick at heart over this. Since I live in Biblethumper Central, I’ve run into stupid bigotry more than once when wearing my pentacle. But it’s all been verbal or being followed through a Hobby Lobby or having my car keyed with "Jesus Hates Witches". Nothing physical. I’ve never felt really threatened. But the attack on Eric has shaken that feeling of security. If something like this could happen to him, it could happen to anyone who belongs to or appears to belong to, a group someone doesn’t like.
Next time, it could be me. Or my husband. Or anyone who doesn’t quite fit the narrow slot some people consider the only acceptable way to be. We must stand up to them. No one deserves to be beaten simply for being who they are—or who someone believes they are. That level of hostility towards a person you don’t even know makes no sense to me. And please rec this—I’d like to see it hang around for a while.