The Year Of The Protestor

I went to a very small school when "The Prom".....a prom so fierce it had a "The" attached to it at all times.....was thrown by the Junior class. We only had one because the gymnasium could only take the distraction of so many activities sporadically in a school that had all classes Kindergarten through 12th grade using it. I was on the prom committee and I took my duty very very seriously.

The Prom Committee had two advisers. I could only remember one though because he is engraved in my head for eternity and here's why. The Prom Committee's duty was all encompassing. We chose the punch, we chose the decorations, we chose The Prom Band. In order to judge the proficiency of our The Prom Band candidates, they were played on a tape deck in the central school's main office into a microphone that aired into the classroom  on the upstairs "not for elementary grade students" floor. The quality was wonky at best.

The adviser that I can remember was a gym teacher. A large man with a booming voice with mannerisms that inspired snickering and disrespect from most of the puberty ridden jackasses with homophobic tendencies in the school. They called him "Gay-o." It was awful and I felt bad about that but not bad enough to say anything and draw attention to myself.  I had been picked on pretty fiercely myself in the past and things had finally turned around. The adviser was unaware of my sympathy and entirely aware of the disrespect. So when I was trying so so hard to hear The Next Prom Band Candidate and he continued to speak, I shushed. Not at him. Just....shushed.

But that is not what he heard. He heard, "Shut. Up." Or probably even, "Shut the fuck up." He stormed out of the room. A few minutes later, I hear over the loud speaker, "Jessica Curtis, please report to the principals office." And I wet myself a little.

I was terrified of being bad in school. This, ironically, coming from a kid who smoked cigarettes in the woods behind my house in the 5th grade. It's not that I never did bad things. I just didn't want to be perceived as disrespectful and a thug. Being seen as bad was a fear on phobic levels. This was my worst nightmare. I don't know what I did but whatever it was, I was innocent.

Thug

 I spent three days in the principals office refusing detention. The adviser said that I was delinquent, snarky (or whatever it was we called it in the '80's), and intentionally attacked him. I cried. I denied. And I protested. I had never done such a thing in my life, whatever it was I was supposed to have done. I wasn't going to detention. It was wrong.

The second day into my protest,  the principal tried to negotiate it into palatible terms, "Hey. It's only detention. It's not like its going on your permanent record. Just take it and get on with life." And I would respond, "But I didn't dooooooooo anyth-th-th-th---," insert hysterical weeping. The adviser argued. I cried. 

On the third day, the principal acknowledged that I was one of the most stubborn human beings on the planet,  that we were going to be in that office through summer break if it kept going that way and gave up. 

It takes a lot of anger and fear for Annoyed to evolve into Protest. It has to become something so intolerable that you are willing to put yourself into a gravely uncomfortable situation. In my minor case, it was the achilles heel of being seen as something that I never in a million years would be. It was an injustice that I could not let slide. 

The husband has informed me that Time magazine has named The Protestor as their person of the year for 2011. Interesting and wonderful to reward the brave. Bravo, Time Magazine! I love it. It is deserved.

Thousands and thousands of people around the planet hit that point this year, the point of intolerance. To give up their comfortable homes and lives for indefinite periods of time because they believed that their presence would make a difference when the joined others with similar ideals. Some died, suffered criminal abuse, lost their families . Some lived in tents in the middle of urban sprawl for months. Many were attacked by the people that were supposed be protecting them by  law. And many many many changed their world and ours. Because they knew that if they stuck their heels in and committed to their beliefs, they could say that they lived their lives with integrity and did something instead of standing by helplessly, accepting the raw deal that was being given to them. Enough. Intolerant. Protest.