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    Parker Owens
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

A to Z - 4. Catastrophe

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence, abuse, and sexual assault. Read with appropriate caution.

THE Wednesday

(undated entry)

Hurts. Hurts so bad. Everything just fucking hurts. No Dad. For how long? Days – I don’t know. Hungry. Tired. And so cold. Somebody finds this – Dad did this to me. Remember.

 

(undated entry)

The shit has really hit the fan now.

Good news: Dad hasn’t been home for two, maybe three days. At least, I don’t think so.

Bad news: he disappeared after just about killing me. I can’t even write about it right now. I’m cold. I’m tired. But I’m alive, and I guess that’s something.

 

(undated entry)

I need to write down what happened before I do anything else. I need to tell it, even if it's just to these silly pages for myself. .

I think it was Wednesday, at least that's what I remember it was. Gym class. I got to the locker room early hoping to avoid you-know-who, but no luck. James fucking Ackerman was there, waiting for me. As I went to my locker, he grabbed my arm, and twisted it behind my back. My face got mushed up against the cold metal. I looked around, hoping for a rescue.

“What did I tell you, ratface? You don’t get to share the locker room with real men. Don’t you ever listen to what I tell you? Huh?”

I could hear him breathing hard in my ear. He jabbed an elbow in my back and ground my cheek a little harder into the row of lockers. I tried to squirm away, but it was no use at all.

“Listen, you little shit, you have to pay a penalty for coming in here. Get that?”

There was the rustle of clothing. Another hard shove against the wall. My breath was squeezed out of my lungs. Then a hard kick in the back of my knee sent me down to the floor. There was serious pain there. James must have taken lessons from my Dad. I felt a hand roughly spin me around, and another grab my hair. Damned if he didn’t almost tear it out by the roots. My head was pulled back. I was shocked. James had his pants down, his dick exposed, long and thick and hard.

“You know you want it. You’re gonna suck it. Now.”

“No! Get off of me!”

I tried to be loud. I shook my head, tried to break away, but he held on tight. I got slapped really hard right then, and I went still.

“Shut up, ratface,” he hissed. “Now, suck it!” He tried to smack my face with his dick.

I shook my head. Sure, I’d thought about sucking off another guy. I'd even fantasized about getting a chance to suck a dick that size. James had all the right equipment. The problem was that it was attached to James. Under different circumstances, I might have been grateful to let James Ackerman be my first blowjob, but not like this. And then, it seemed that the miracle I’d been praying for happened. The door to the coaches’ office opened and out stepped Mr. Harney, one of the Gym teachers.

“What the hell is going on here?”

The teacher’s voice was loud and clear.

Ackerman dropped my hair and tried to bolt, but his pants betrayed him. He couldn’t move fast enough to avoid being grabbed in Mr. Harney’s vice-like grip. I was saved.

“OK, you two, we’re going to the office. Right this minute.”

I was too stunned to protest as we were marched down the hall. This wasn’t my fault. I’d been attacked.

In the office, we sat while Mr. Harney spoke to the principal alone. I looked at the door, numbly reading the nameplate: Dr. Herbert Messersmith. James looked like pure hatred when he glanced at me.

“Mr. Ackerman. In here.” The principal beckoned. I looked up. “You wait there, Mr. uh…” he faltered.

“Ericsson,” I volunteered. “Stefan Ericsson. This kid – "

The principal held up a hand. “OK, Ericsson, just wait. It will be your turn in a minute.” The door closed behind James as he went in.

I was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this.

It was probably only a few minutes later that James came out. He scowled angrily in my direction and strode out the office door.

The principal followed him out and looked down at me coldly.

“Mr. Ericsson? Come into my office.”

I rose slowly and walked into the office. Dr. Messersmith indicated a chair. I sat.

The principal cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Mr. Ericsson – er – Steven…” He didn’t get my name right, either. He continued, “Mr. Harney reported to me a serious incident between you and James Ackerman in the locker rooms this morning. Is there anything you want to say?”

I could think of a million things to tell him. Like how James has been bullying me for the past few weeks. How he attacked me in the lockers, twice. How humiliating it was to be smacked around, forced to my knees and nearly made to suck his dick. My mouth was dry, and my tongue seemed glued to the top of my mouth. I tried to speak, but nothing came out; just tears beginning to run out of the corners of my eyes.

“This is a shameful thing, Steven, you understand? We can’t tolerate this kind of thing in school.”

He paused, obviously waiting for a response from me. I nodded, but I still couldn’t find my voice. He cleared his throat again.

“You may have feelings for another boy, Steven. That’s OK. But you can’t act on them here. Not in school. We have rules on that in school, for everyone. Not just boys…er…in your situation.”

It was all so unfair. My situation? My situation was that I was getting beaten, threatened and assaulted. So I like boys. Nobody knows that – and I sure as hell don’t like James fucking Ackerman.

“But it wasn’t like that.” I looked up at Dr. Messersmith, my voice finally cracking to life.

“No? You mean you and James aren’t, um…involved?”

Involved? He was a bully, not a boyfriend.

“No. We’re not friends. Not like that.”

Dr. Messersmith looked at me as if I was a maggot he’d discovered in his breakfast cereal. He shook his head.

“Ugh. So it’s just you doing that in the lockers for anyone who comes by. Really.”

Now it was my turn to be shocked.

“I don’t do that –" I spluttered, but I was cut off.

“Well, obviously, you actually are doing that. Mr. Harney was quite clear about it. Now, really, if you haven’t got anything else to say for yourself, you can wait in the outer office for your father to arrive. You’re going to be suspended from school for the remainder of the week, and I’m going to suggest to your father that he get you some counseling. As I said, I don’t care if you are, um - that way – but you need to learn to avoid the kind of high-risk behavior we saw today.”

With that, he motioned me to the door.

I rose to my feet, with my heart in my throat. I was going to puke. Dad. I’d forgotten about him. Dad was on his way to the office. Here. This was not going to be good. If I was lucky, he’d just hustle me out of school, give me a thrashing and go back to work. That was something to hope for.

I shuffled out to a seat across from the secretaries and sat down. I didn’t have that long to wait. Dad stormed into the office a little while later, his face as black as thunder. He was so mad, I don’t think he even saw me at first.

He walked up to the secretaries’ station. The secretary at the desk visibly cringed, Dad was that scary.

“I’m Gunnar Ericsson.”

Dad spoke in a barely controlled whisper, the voice he used when he was most dangerous. His tone hardly concealed his rage.

The secretary pointed over at me, and Dad turned to look in my direction. His eyes narrowed, and he expelled a heavy breath out of his nose. He took a step closer. I expected Dad to take a swing at me, but the principal opened his door at that moment, so we’ll never know what he might have done.

“Mr. Ericsson?”

Dad turned at the sound of his name.

“Mr. Ericsson, won’t you step into my office for a moment, please?”

Dad steamed into Dr. Messersmith’s office, and the door shut. My heart sank. I heard voices through the door, but I couldn’t make anything out. I didn’t really need to; whatever the principal said would piss Dad off.

It didn’t take much time for them to conclude their business. The door to the principal’s office opened, and Dad walked out, his fists balled at his side. He didn’t say a word to me – he simply gestured with his head to get out the door.

I gathered my backpack, got up and followed Dad outside, down the steps and into the parking lot where his truck was parked. He didn’t say a word.

Dad unlocked the passenger door and opened it. He motioned for me to get in. Dad went around and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut. Still nothing from Dad, but he was clearly pissed off.

The engine roared to life, and Dad drove off.

I thought he’d drive towards home, but that wasn’t the direction he took. We were headed east, out of town, in the direction of the quarry where he worked. Once the buildings and houses thinned out, the truck slowed, and Dad pulled onto a side road he must have known about. After a hundred feet, it narrowed to a single lane dirt track.

Dad stopped the truck in the middle of the road, without pulling over. He wasn’t expecting company.

Dad got out, walked around, and opened my door. He spoke one word.

“Out.”

I hesitated. Another mistake. Dad grabbed my collar and hauled me out of the cab.

“I said OUT, damn you!” The silence was broken. The last words were a roar. I was propelled out in front of the truck and spun around with my back to the grille.

Dad fisted the front of my jacket, lifting me up so he could look into my face. I trembled, scared shitless about what might happen next. I didn’t have to wait long.

“You little shit.”

On the word shit, Dad brought his knee to my groin with every ounce of his pent up rage. I doubled over.

“Not only are you a disobedient, worthless, witless, ignorant, useless excuse for a boy, you’re not even a boy at all,” he stormed, each insult punctuated with a vicious blow to the gut; he paused, breathing heavily, and I sank to my knees.

“In fact," he continued, “I had to be called down out of work to hear from your principal that you’re a stinking faggot.”

On this last word, his steel-toed work boot crashed into the side of my head.

I went dizzy, but I remember him hitting me again and again. I think I remember being tossed into the bed of the pickup. I do know that when we got home, Dad dragged me out over the tailgate, cracking my jaw on the way over.

By then, I was awake enough to realize I was being carried into the house and across the kitchen. The cellar door was flung open. With a grunt, Dad literally hurled me down the steps into the basement. I felt the sting of my backpack hitting my head; Dad had thrown it down the stairs. Now the sound of heavy feet descended. Light streamed down from the kitchen. Hands grabbed my ankle. Dad dragged me by the foot over to the workbench.

Dad had given me this punishment for my stupidity many times before; he has a short chain with an old iron leg cuff anchored to the workbench. It took just a couple of seconds for him to cuff my right ankle and lock the padlock. One carefully placed kick to the midsection later, and he was on his way up the stairs. The door slammed shut.

Darkness.

This is what I remember of the worst Wednesday I've ever lived. There's more... but I'm exhausted. The rest can wait, I think. Tomorrow.

Thanks again to Craftingmom or her excellent and unflagging editing.

Reviews of any sort are most welcome.

Copyright © 2016 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Ok, now I'm ready to simply go in there and bring him out myself! And the school is turning a blind eye, in favour of the sports star... Stefan needs a friend right now!

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Maybe the worst part of the physical discomfort I felt in this chapter were is last words "there's more"
Can Stefan take any more?
Can I survive any more?
I'm giving this chapter a 'like' but I hope you realize that doesn't imply I liked what happened.
This was all beautifully described, Parker. Especially as Stefan's feeling of being saved slowly dissolved into the realization he'd been sacrificed.

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On 10/06/2015 01:54 AM, Puppilull said:

Ok, now I'm ready to simply go in there and bring him out myself! And the school is turning a blind eye, in favour of the sports star... Stefan needs a friend right now!

I wish you could do just that. It hurts, and while this is a horrid and fictional description, we also know it happens in reality. It doesn't happen often (mercifully), but more often than we know. As for the school's reaction, well, it's the consequences for each kid - James Ackerman and Stefan - that's the real and tragic difference.

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On 10/06/2015 01:54 AM, Puppilull said:

Ok, now I'm ready to simply go in there and bring him out myself! And the school is turning a blind eye, in favour of the sports star... Stefan needs a friend right now!

I wish you could do just that. It hurts, and while this is a horrid and fictional description, we also know it happens in reality. It doesn't happen often (mercifully), but more often than we know. As for the school's reaction, well, it's the consequences for each kid - James Ackerman and Stefan - that's the real and tragic difference.

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On 10/06/2015 02:06 AM, skinnydragon said:

Maybe the worst part of the physical discomfort I felt in this chapter were is last words "there's more"

Can Stefan take any more?

Can I survive any more?

I'm giving this chapter a 'like' but I hope you realize that doesn't imply I liked what happened.

This was all beautifully described, Parker. Especially as Stefan's feeling of being saved slowly dissolved into the realization he'd been sacrificed.

There's more. Chilling, and yet true. Horrible, but the one thing we know is that Stefan is alive to write about it. Still. He breathes, he lives, and with that there has to be something to hold onto.

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Parker, geezus.
I felt every punch and kick. I know what it's like. Wasn't my father but I know what it's like. My dad used his belt mostly but he wasn't as bad this a-hole.
It is so sad that people are so blind to the plight of others. That we assume they are liars when they try to ask for help.
I have nieces and nephews, no way I could hit a kid or a dog etc. What kinda man would I be?? I couldn't look at myself.
Hope one day people open their eyes.. you think that kid has bruises or shies away because he really fell down the stairs? You think that kid on the street wants to be there?? You should be asking what was so bad at home?
thanks Parker, from an ex-street kid no one ever saw...

 

tim

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On 10/06/2015 06:11 AM, Mikiesboy said:

Parker, geezus.

I felt every punch and kick. I know what it's like. Wasn't my father but I know what it's like. My dad used his belt mostly but he wasn't as bad this a-hole.

It is so sad that people are so blind to the plight of others. That we assume they are liars when they try to ask for help.

I have nieces and nephews, no way I could hit a kid or a dog etc. What kinda man would I be?? I couldn't look at myself.

Hope one day people open their eyes.. you think that kid has bruises or shies away because he really fell down the stairs? You think that kid on the street wants to be there?? You should be asking what was so bad at home?

thanks Parker, from an ex-street kid no one ever saw...

 

tim

Some guys have something wicked which drives them mad; some people are born nasty. And some rationalize their brutality by thinking they're doing the poor kid some kind of perverted 'good.' Stefan's dad may have his reasons, or he may be unreasoning. Or something of both. It really doesn't matter when Stefan and his life gets in the way...

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Poor Stefan. :( Like another reviewer said...I'm afraid of the 'more'. I'm wondering about his father's absence...is it because Stefan is in the basement or did he abandon him? Any time without his father is good. Maybe social services will check in on him since he's missing so much school. I don't imagine his father would have the foresight to call and say that Stefan's 'sick'. My heart broke for him when the principal didn't even bother to get his side of the story. I've been bullied in front of teachers before and they did absolutely nothing, so I know the sinking feeling of thinking you're rescued, when in fact you're not. It wasn't nearly as bad as anything Stefan went through, but I can still relate. I'm going to continue to hold out hope that things get better soon. You're doing a great job portraying an abused youth.

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I'm kind of wondering how much more you're going to pile on in this story. Trying to read with an open mind. I can believe his father is that abusive, that rings all too true. But it's just getting to a point where I'm trying to figure out how absolutely nobody exhibits any normal, rational, empathetic behavior in this story. The kid was very nearly sexually assaulted, and nobody bothered to check to see his side of the story? I mean with the assault the bully was inflicting, there'd be visual evidence galore. His face slammed against lockers and the violent slapping? Those leave marks. Nobody would ask a question like how'd you get all this bruising on your face? Why is literally every person the main character encounters an apparent sociopath?

 

Stretching credibity here quite a bit.

Edited by spikey582
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There just doesn't seem to be any way there could be more that Stefan could endure. Every blow dealt to him was jarring. I imagine the father is either passed out, or, knowing Stefan could not show up to school in his condition, deliberately left him chained.
Usually, it's never about the child when it comes to such abuse. What are the father's demons? Was he always this heinous. Not that it will ever be excusable, no matter what.

 

The school is just as bad, not giving Stefan a chance. He's not safe anywhere, and can't trust any adult. Who will save him?

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On 10/06/2015 08:23 AM, Valkyrie said:

Poor Stefan. :( Like another reviewer said...I'm afraid of the 'more'. I'm wondering about his father's absence...is it because Stefan is in the basement or did he abandon him? Any time without his father is good. Maybe social services will check in on him since he's missing so much school. I don't imagine his father would have the foresight to call and say that Stefan's 'sick'. My heart broke for him when the principal didn't even bother to get his side of the story. I've been bullied in front of teachers before and they did absolutely nothing, so I know the sinking feeling of thinking you're rescued, when in fact you're not. It wasn't nearly as bad as anything Stefan went through, but I can still relate. I'm going to continue to hold out hope that things get better soon. You're doing a great job portraying an abused youth.

The school isn't about to check on him; he's been suspended. And Dad is hardly the guy to go pick up assignments for his son. It feels so, so discouraging when the person you hoped would help you (in this case the principal) just processes you using his own take on what he knows.

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On 10/06/2015 09:21 AM, spikey582 said:

I'm kind of wondering how much more you're going to pile on I this story. Trying to read with an open mind. I can believe his father is that abusive, that rings all too true. But it's just getting to a point where I'm trying to figure out how absolutely nobody exhibits any normal, rational, empathetic behavior in this story. The kid was very nearly sexually assaulted, and nobody bothered to check to see his side of the story? I mean with the assault the bully was inflicting, there'd be visual evidence galore. His face slammed against lockers and the violent slapping? Those leave marks. Nobody would ask a question like how'd you get all this bruising on your face? Why is literally every person the main character encounters an apparent sociopath?

 

Stretching credibity here quite a bit.

Thanks for your perceptive review. I really appreciate this. Unfortunately, some evidence gets ignored willfully, especially when those who encounter it have a narrow view, or perhaps that are just too rushed and busy to notice. School counselor in this country carry loads of hundreds of kids, and often get seconds a day with the students they actually get a chance to see. And that's the people who actually are in the business of caring. Principals often have other fish to fry,

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On 10/06/2015 09:30 AM, Defiance19 said:

There just doesn't seem to be any way there could be more that Stefan could endure. Every blow dealt to him was jarring. I imagine the father is either passed out, or, knowing Stefan could not show up to school in his condition, deliberately left him chained.

Usually, it's never about the child when it comes to such abuse. What are the father's demons? Was he always this heinous. Not that it will ever be excusable, no matter what.

 

The school is just as bad, not giving Stefan a chance. He's not safe anywhere, and can't trust any adult. Who will save him?

Stefan is on suspension from school, so the school isn't about to inquire for a while. And time plays tricks with the mind when it's all alone...

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So sad that he couldn't speak up and tell the principal but he's so used to not talking back he couldn't. It's horrible. Now he's in the basement chained up! Jeez. And I'm sure that jerkoff principal won't look into it when he doesn't show up for school huh!

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On 10/06/2015 01:00 PM, Cannd said:

So sad that he couldn't speak up and tell the principal but he's so used to not talking back he couldn't. It's horrible. Now he's in the basement chained up! Jeez. And I'm sure that jerkoff principal won't look into it when he doesn't show up for school huh!

First he has to get off suspension...the principal is not a nice man, either...

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I caught myself reading as fast as I could, and not because your writing is bad. There's still more...OMG.

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On 10/30/2015 05:12 PM, aditus said:

I caught myself reading as fast as I could, and not because your writing is bad. There's still more...OMG.

What a nice thing for you to say in such a sad story(so far). Hard to put down...it was hard to stop writing, once I started.

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He can't catch a break. The mental and physical abuse by his dad, almost getting raped in the locker room, his treatment as a guilty party by the principle instead of as the victim he is. The fact he hasn't taken his life is impressive.

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I'm sorry I just could not "like" this ... the writing was excellent and the story compelling, far too compelling ... but I just couldn't. A part of me wishes that the beating had been sufficient for the child to fall unconcious and die rather than endure anymore ... that is horrible.

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On 12/31/2015 04:21 AM, dughlas said:

I'm sorry I just could not "like" this ... the writing was excellent and the story compelling, far too compelling ... but I just couldn't. A part of me wishes that the beating had been sufficient for the child to fall unconcious and die rather than endure anymore ... that is horrible.

I do not blame you for not "liking" this chapter. The early days of the journal are really hard to take, and we aren't Stefan. I am humbled that you have chosen to read A to Z, still more that it held you enough to binge through ch. 31. Stefan's story isn't always an easy one to handle, but it is compelling. Thank, you for your reviews and for reading.

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I am gonna try another couple of chapters,if it does not get any better for the poor boy i am outer here,i like happy nice romantic story lines not all this evil stuff.sorry i cannot like.

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On 03/02/2016 03:25 AM, bubby1234 said:

I am gonna try another couple of chapters,if it does not get any better for the poor boy i am outer here,i like happy nice romantic story lines not all this evil stuff.sorry i cannot like.

I would ask you to hang in there. I understand your reluctance. Stefan's story is tough at first. Don't blame you for not liking what happened to Stefan, though; but unfortunately, so many kids actually have to live through horrible abuse. It's up to us to recognize them and help. Sorry - I'll stop grinding my axe now. Thanks for reading so far into the story, and I hope you will continue to do so.

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What a total failure of all those who are supposed to guarding to prevent child abuse!

 

Stefan is a victim of the very privileged James F Ackerman! Authorities who jump to conclusions and do not give the victimized Stefan a chance to explain what he's been going through. Stefan has been Profiled – it might not be racial profiling, but the effect is the same for the one targeted.

 

*

 

There's a YouTube video explaining the concept of Privilege to students. Basically, all the students are asked to toss a wad of paper into a trash can sitting next to the chalkboard in the front of the classroom. They are to stay seated when they make their attempt.

 

Naturally, those students in the back of the room complain about the unfairness of the contest. Most of the students in the front row manage to make the basket. Fewer make it from further back in the room.

 

This is an example of Privilege. The students in the front row start off with a built-in advantage. Some of the other students have skills that make up for some of their disadvantage. Most students fail to make the basket due to a combination of disadvantage and lack of special skills.

 

Most people who grow up Privileged do not have any concept of the advantages they rely on without thinking of. Many believe that their efforts are the sole reason why they've succeeded. Because of that, they think that others who are not as successful just did not work as hard as they did or were otherwise less worthy of doing well.

 

I realize that I am accorded some privilege due to my gender, I'm cisgender, I often 'pass' even though I'm Openly Gay, I grew up speaking English, my parents were both highly educated, I've never been incarcerated, there was always food on the table, and my ethnicity (even though I'm not white).

 

I lose privilege because I grew up lower-middle class, I never graduated from college, I no longer have a car, I'm slightly shorter than the average US male, I'm dealing with mental illness (anxiety & depression) and am disabled, I have a very limited income, I'm not straight, I'm not white, I'm agnostic, I'm unmarried and childless, I was homeless for two years, and I live in a city with a bad reputation.

 

The one time I was racially profiled by the police, they quickly realized their mistake when I looked up and they saw my age (mid-50s) and the color of my skin. They took off right away! (They thought they were stopping three young African-Americans.)

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On 05/19/2016 11:55 AM, droughtquake said:

What a total failure of all those who are supposed to guarding to prevent child abuse!

 

Stefan is a victim of the very privileged James F Ackerman! Authorities who jump to conclusions and do not give the victimized Stefan a chance to explain what he's been going through. Stefan has been Profiled – it might not be racial profiling, but the effect is the same for the one targeted.

 

*

 

There's a YouTube video explaining the concept of Privilege to students. Basically, all the students are asked to toss a wad of paper into a trash can sitting next to the chalkboard in the front of the classroom. They are to stay seated when they make their attempt.

 

Naturally, those students in the back of the room complain about the unfairness of the contest. Most of the students in the front row manage to make the basket. Fewer make it from further back in the room.

 

This is an example of Privilege. The students in the front row start off with a built-in advantage. Some of the other students have skills that make up for some of their disadvantage. Most students fail to make the basket due to a combination of disadvantage and lack of special skills.

 

Most people who grow up Privileged do not have any concept of the advantages they rely on without thinking of. Many believe that their efforts are the sole reason why they've succeeded. Because of that, they think that others who are not as successful just did not work as hard as they did or were otherwise less worthy of doing well.

 

I realize that I am accorded some privilege due to my gender, I'm cisgender, I often 'pass' even though I'm Openly Gay, I grew up speaking English, my parents were both highly educated, I've never been incarcerated, there was always food on the table, and my ethnicity (even though I'm not white).

 

I lose privilege because I grew up lower-middle class, I never graduated from college, I no longer have a car, I'm slightly shorter than the average US male, I'm dealing with mental illness (anxiety & depression) and am disabled, I have a very limited income, I'm not straight, I'm not white, I'm agnostic, I'm unmarried and childless, I was homeless for two years, and I live in a city with a bad reputation.

 

The one time I was racially profiled by the police, they quickly realized their mistake when I looked up and they saw my age (mid-50s) and the color of my skin. They took off right away! (They thought they were stopping three young African-Americans.)

Stefan's tragedy was a result of a complete failure of those who should have looked out for him. Instead, they turned the other way, to see what they wanted to see. Your privilege game is a good one. I must try it sometime...

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Even knowing how the story ends doesn't lessen the gut-wrenching, appalled feelings. My eyes were glued to the page - I've read it before but Stefan's dread and the sickening violence just transfixed me.

 

And, of course, the worst thing is - these dramas are played out regularly in the real world. Despite all the protections, social workers and others.

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