I used to hate the person who’d yell the ‘F’ words at me. (you know…fairy, fem, faggot…)
I’d make damn sure they saw me look at them. Who knows what they thought? All they really cared about was that I was singled out as somehow different from them and those ‘F’ words covered all the bases. He/She is not me, and I didn’t belong. That’s all that mattered.
As time went on in middle/high school, I learned to hate the friends who stood around the person who yelled the ‘F’ word. Their condescending stares of disgust…learing at my every reaction to their friend’s call out, then the turn and huddle as they dissect my every move.
These people…excuse me, those condescending eyes passing judgment without jury…were more dishonest, more terrifying, more inflicting. The person who shouts it out, to a certain degree, is honest about their feelings. But the circle of ‘friends’ around him/her…they’re the ones to look out for.