Started in 1971, when I shared a locker with my best friend. Her boyfriend was jealous of our friendship (oh, those dramatic days of high school), and complained to one of HIS friends about it. This friend, Karen, decided that the way to punish me for that friendship was to spread the word that I was a lesbian.

Lots and lots of people bought into that, and after she did that, when I walked down the hallway, it was like the red sea parting in front of me. Some of the girls would literally gasp in horror if they brushed against me in the hallway. Obviously, they were afraid of catching teh gay.

It didn't hurt to be called a lesbian; my mom had a number of lesbian friends from work, and I had been around them most of my life. No, what hurt was to be treated as if I had some disease. It hurt to be scoffed at and laughed at. It hurt to see people turning their backs on me. It hurt that with being given a label, some people took it as license to treat me like shit.

Today, if that happened, I'd probably put a smack down on them, again, not for calling me what they consider a bad name, but for how they treated me because of it. In 1971, I was incredibly shy, and mostly tried to be invisible. After the rumor started, it was hard to stay invisible.

I know that my experience in those long-ago days doesn't come close to what many in the GLBT community go through every day. But I think it gave me a small glimpse of what it's like to be treated like shit just because of who you are.