on departures / moving on
reflections on the family i've found in my teammates and my long-lasting anger
Sometimes, I’m afraid that I get stuck in the past. Sometimes, I try to convince myself that three months should be enough time to get over a homophobic incident, the one that prompted me to start this Substack. And then I remember that to this day, every time I walk past the house of the homophobic person who cyberbullied me three years ago, I still freeze up in place. She lives in my neighborhood, in my small hometown, where word spreads around faster than wildfire. There are many reasons I do not like going home.Â
But my college isn’t safe anymore, not that I suppose it ever was. I just know better than to believe that this place is any safer than my hometown, where there are reminders of what happened to me everywhere I go. And, of course, I know that the incident wasn’t necessarily the worst case of homophobia, but it’s still difficult to think about the way the institution handled it. Even worse, being around the person and seeing everyone treat him like nothing happened is one of the most frustrating feelings ever.Â
Whenever I’m in the room with the person, I have to pretend I’m not freezing up and afraid. I have to pretend I do not remember how everyone protected his rights and dignity because he’s a rich cishet white man, and that means that I have to spend the rest of my time at my college fighting the urge to blame myself for ever believing that my voice, or, God forbid, rights, matters just as much as his.Â
Sometimes, I think, maybe it’s a me problem. Maybe I need to learn how to move on without closure, and maybe I’m only letting it affect me because I can’t move on. But how am I supposed to move on when I have been invisibilized to the point where I need to remind myself that I matter so I don’t completely lose all sense of reality?
In my introductory Substack post, I don’t mention why I’m still part of the sports team, why I didn’t immediately quit after he didn’t get kicked off. I don’t particularly love the sport so much that I couldn’t bear to never play it again because of him. However, I do love the women’s team so very much.Â
At the end of the semester, we had a closing banquet to send off our seniors. We each gave a speech about how much the seniors have meant to us, and in mine, I talked about how, during my high school athletics experience, I felt lonely and isolated. When I came to college, the current seniors made my athletics experience feel so much more welcoming, and in a way, they have become my family. They were who I’d turn to if I needed a ride to a store or if I had a question about getting around the school. They invited me with open arms, and I had never really had that experience.Â
I don’t know how well I articulated it all through my tears. I remember choking up at the part when I admitted that they made me feel like I was coming home for the first time in my life.Â
Halfway through our speeches, the men’s team showed up for their banquet, including the homophobic guy. But for once, I didn’t completely freeze up. All that mattered to me at the moment was celebrating the women’s team, the family I’ve had for the past two years.Â
It’s hard for me to part with things that have hurt me. It’s even harder for me to part with people I love because the people I love have made me who I am just as much as all the bad things have.Â
Later, I admitted to my teammates that the only reason I’ve stayed on the team after the incident is that as much as I hate everything that has happened in the past semester, I love everyone on the team much more than the seemingly neverending cesspool of hate I still hold towards the homophobe.Â
It’s hard for me to part with things that have hurt me.
I love the movie nights we have together on spring break and the team dinners after practice when we’re all so exhausted but still enjoy spending time together. I love doing homework in hotel rooms together the night before competitions. I love all the little moments and can’t bear to think about parting with them.Â
I can’t lie; no matter how undeniable my love is for my teammates, there are still days that it doesn’t feel like enough for me to stay. There are days when I see the whole men’s team laughing with the person, sitting in the dining hall with him as if nothing had even happened. Those days, I blame myself for the way that I feel, for all the pain that is mine alone to carry.Â
From a very young age, I have always felt that I owe an emotional debt to everyone in my life I cannot repay. In a way, I fear that’s what keeps me tied to the team. Even though I love them all so much, I’m sometimes worried that I stay because I don’t know how else to repay all the love they’ve given me. Even though I’ve spent two years with my graduating teammates, I still feel like I owe so many future years to them for everything they’ve done for me, even though I know they wouldn’t ever expect that of me.Â
I’m taking next semester off, and honestly, I have no idea what will happen once I return. The space might help. Perhaps, over time, I’ll finally figure out how to accept all the love I’ve been given without expecting the other shoe to drop. Maybe there’s a way for me to move on while allowing myself to feel hurt and eventually find some peace.Â
The fear that I’m stuck in the past still lingers. But saying goodbye to the people I love and reflecting on everything we’ve done for each other out of love makes me realize that the past matters. It’s important to recognize that everything and everybody who has touched my life in some way has shaped me into the person I am today, in all my imperfections and messiness.Â
Sometimes, I’m afraid to be loved, but today, I’m grateful that I’ve experienced love meaningful enough to convince me to stay. How lucky am I to be loved enough to miss it?
soooo well written as always!!!! 💖