Reply #8: Oh yeah. Constantly.

[rangergordon]

I was attacked several times in Jr. High and High School for being gay. I was openly gay in the early/mid-1980s at a time before there were any gay/straight alliances or other clubs promoting tolerance.

I'm not a violent person; I've never really known how to conduct myself in a fistfight. A bookish lad, I was much more comfortable in the library than in gym class. But I did eventually discover that even just closing my eyes and swinging my fists wildly around was safer than lying there in a fetal position wishing the pummelling would end.

I don't know what caused me to start fighting back -- I guess the years of frustration from being humiliated and beaten were building up and I finally just snapped. The day I opened my eyes and saw Lloyd, one of my chief tormenters, running away bleeding profusely from his nose was a very proud day for me. I must have gotten a lucky shot in -- who knows? I wasn't watching.

The faculty -- particularly the girls' gym teacher who witnessed the melee, I now recall -- seemed relieved and rather proud of me for finally fighting back, because although I was a good student and well-liked by the teachers and staff, none of them really knew how to deal with the gay issue. (It's illegal in this state for a teacher to even mention the word "homosexuality.")

I went to the school office where my friends, the nice office ladies, cooed over me and dressed my wounds. The bully was disliked among the staff and faculty: He ended up skulking off to the locker room and had to stop the bleeding himself.

Lloyd never did bother me again after that, though.