There’s a lot to say about “terrorism”. Politically I have a lot to say on the subject, but, I fear my complaints, and my anger over the subject may lead to your boredom.
However, I am about to speak about terrorism, only in reference to how, now after years of thought over the subject, it destroyed my earliest attempt to embrace my gayness.
“Jenny” (the lesbian friend of mine, who I’ve mentioned before), well, she and I, in the summer of 2005 were meant to be attending a science-related-thingy, up in a prestigious university in London. I am the science geek, she, just wanted the experience.
I believe, that this would place me in either my first year of GCSE’s (year 10), or late Year 9. In short, I was fourteen. We had both applied (albeit separately) to go on this course; it would be a week long, staying in the university, in a dorm.
Needless to say, my mind was not just focused on the prospect of a week of science; oh, no! My head was literally spinning, and dizzy with happiness. I knew at this stage, and I was going through intermittent stages of denial and acceptance. It would appear, that this Summer, would be one of lustful acceptance. The prospect of not only being away from school, from family, and to my knowledge, all of straight friends, and to be with Jenny, the rather delicious lesbian; and not to mention a new collection of girls, well, it would make any young lesbian extremely happy.
Weeks previous to my set-off date, I would dream about unlikely encounters in the bathroom. Or, secret-science affair Jenny and I would embark upon. I dreamt about how warm I would feel, with her laying next to me; and with no teachers, parents, or prying eyes upon us, we could endeavour upon any activities we so wished. I would be free in my own skin, I would tell Jenny that I thought I was gay, and we, together, would make use of this precious time that school and university would give us.
My mother, who was reluctant at first, after much encouragement, had been talked around to the idea of allowing me to attend. Being fourteen, I was still very much in her possession; and the thought of running away, and doing what I wanted regardless of her thoughts, was not one that dared to cross my young, and maybe, not so innocent mind. But even so, she agreed, and I was convincing in my appeal towards the “educational value” and “opportunity” that the short trip would give me. Although far away then, this would be a brilliant excercise to write about when appealing to Universities to take me in.
She had been won around!
Then, came the 7/7 bombings in London. A bus or two was blown up in central London, and as far as my Mother (being the fanatical, and impressive thing she is), convinced herself, that of all the places in London terrorists would next strike, would not be the Canary Warf, Oxford Street, The Tube, Westminster, The Eye, The Dome, Marble Arch, Hyde Park, or any of the huge shopping centres that grace London… No, no, no! It would of course be the university I would be attending. Not to mention the number of other universities in London, I can think of at least five now; oh no! Where ever I would be, was almost certainly going to be the place for prime attack.
I did try and remind my mother during this time, that I wasn’t the Queen, or anyone of much importance. I was a fourteen year old attending a science course, daughter of a single parent, attending a state-school in a suburb, not particularly popular, and as far as I am aware, not being tracked by any terrorist group. She, on the other hand was adamant that the reverse was true. That one had to abide by the so-called “terror” induced, and had to refrain from any unnecessary movement which might place anyone, in the likely (and apparently inevitable) situation of being blown up.
After many tears, and heartfelt pleas, she decided I was not to go.
I should point out, that actually I was looking forward the actual science aspect of the trip. I was a keen young scientist, and I saw this as an opportunity to fuel my understanding of subject that I adored and wanted to follow. The Jenny part, was merely a brilliant added bonus… One which I had come to love the thought and prospect of. I was excited for myself. I wanted to confront myself, and being too scared to do it whilst still in school, whilst there were too many people I knew, this, was the opportunity (I felt) to change that.
Terrorism thus, destroyed this opportunity. My fanatical mother, and her inability to square off that living a life in fear, is only a life half-lived; prevented I now believe to quite possibly being the most pivotal event in my young life.
Jenny, whilst she was there without me, actually met a girl, who for the next few months, would be her first proper girlfriend. They shared the same dorm, or something.
Thinking now, I realise that (even though it may not have been), could have been me. I could have cleared up all of those years of angst and denial, cleared up all of my misconceptions, and finally embraced something I knew I wanted. I would have been in a reasonably free environment, and I could have, for the first time, had the space and time to talk intimately with this girl, who I knew, but I wanted to know. Thanks to terrorism though, five years later, I’m still chasing that very same dream.
Комментариев нет:
Отправить комментарий