He lived one street over – his name was Edward…
He was what we knew then as “retarded.”
[my eyes drip liquid regret and shame as I write this]
He walked differently than we walked…
He talked much differently than we talked…
He became easily angry, while we were stoically calm…
He hated us – and not one of us cared –
none of us cared at all…
about next to anything, really – we just didn’t care
Edward was in my class at school and 3 years older than me…
He painted and drew pictures of animals,
While we studied math, beginning biology, and learned how to make a cigar box in woodshop…
Integration meant fistfights on the playground Edward couldn’t win –
it meant a group of boys against a single boy –
Edward scared (no - terrified) and alone…
and forced – forced to deal with Tom and William, and Michael…
[I stood nearby doing nothing – smoking a cigarette, with my marker-drawn anarchist jeans and with my punk attitude– I stood nearby…doing nothing]
William pushed Edward down onto the schoolyard grass – and he pushed him hard…
Humiliated – with no chance of things becoming different –
with no chance of things getting better -
and with pants permanently stained…
everyone laughed (I didn’t laugh) as I looked on and then looked away
I then looked away…we all did…
“Boys will be boys” is absolute motherfucking shit –
it’s fucking bullshit –
it lessens the intensity and impact of bullying…
– it gives a pass to the wicked –
“Boys will be boys” is absolute motherfucking shit…
it’s shit and it’s nothing better than it
I remember Edward arriving to class one day with a tube that extended from one of his nostrils into his shirt –
but I’m not sure if this is a real memory or not
…On his way home one day, Edward was stopped by a boy…
(the wind whipped violently through the trees, and the trees bowed to its force)
Edward was stopped by a boy…
(the birds squawked, and they squawked loudly – Attention! Attention! - and nobody was listening)
Edward was stopped by a boy…
(a beautiful boy laid twisted and disheveled upon the unforgiving ground, a beautiful boy laid still and will lie still forever)
The aroma of flowers filled the air for several blocks in all directions – for days…
His name was Edward –
He was what we knew then as retarded…
he lived one street over from me –
a universe away – and I was 14 houses down
His name was Edward
we all could have helped him – we all could have stopped the abuse –
the terror, the bullying, the shoulder punches for flinching (or for not flinching), the mocking and the never-ending teasing, and the fear that boys instilled within him every day – every single day – every fucking day –
but we didn’t
we all could have done something – anything…
but we didn’t – we fucking didn’t –
we could have, but we fucking didn’t –
and I’m not asking for forgiveness or understanding –
I’m not asking for that at all –
That is not what I’m doing here…
I’m not asking for forgiveness…
Because none of us deserve it
None of us do
None of us motherfucking do
Photo: Jimmy Broccoli.
