Hazing

I’d never been to a real party before, one without adults and with underage drinking. I certainly wasn’t the type to party hard or willingly get into unfamiliar situations, so I had come with one of my friends who I’d known for eleven years, Maria. The hostess of the party was a girl who’d since graduated, who had been in my calculus class when I was a junior. I knew her only a little and had barely talked to her since, but I knew there’d be a good handful of other people present who I knew a little better than her.1

The party, like I said, was all new to me, but it wasn’t too rowdy and I knew what to expect. There were a couple of guys and one orange-skinned blonde girl who were drunk off their asses and acting ridiculous, and half the people there were fairly hyper, indicating that they were all drinking a little as well. I kept an eye on my friend, who was drinking as well. Situations like this could always turn on my motherly side. I came across a few more of my friends, most of which were clutching drinks of some kind, none of which, I was comforted to see, were more than buzzed.2

Then things changed. Perhaps my old shyness or “stage fright” or panic attack or unfamiliar-place-ophobia was kicking in, but I started to get really nervous. I knew it didn’t take much for a drunk person to turn rowdy and aggressive at the slightest thing, and the fact that I didn’t know most of these people didn’t help. Another fear that set in was the fear that anything I ate there would have in it one of those “date-rape” drugs counselors are always telling us about in health classes, and that some guy would try to force himself on me, and people would be too muddled or amused to stop him. This fear was made a little greater because of the fact that I’m lesbian. That not only meant that I would in no way enjoy being raped, but also that guys who knew this might target me. The all-too-real stories of gays being beaten and killed flitted through my head.3

As people got more intoxicated, relaxed, and unpredictable, my fears and paranoia started to burn and stick in my mind with more urgency. Were people really staring at me, or was I just overreacting? What should I do if some drunk person approaches me—politely laugh, or seriously tell them to knock it off and go away? Was I going goofy, or was it them—4

My head ached. I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or shut because I only saw blackness. I tried moving my jaws and my face muscles, but I couldn’t feel my face. Was I numb? I started to gag and I realized that something tight was shoving my tongue deep into my throat. I found to lodge my tongue either above or below that thing, to keep my tongue as far away from my wind pine as possible. I vaguely felt something near my ears, and my head was jostled, and then a blindfold was removed to reveal a dim light. The gag was untied by one of my acquaintances, Jerry, and I gasped for air.5

My arms and legs were bound to a chair, and my body was slumped forward at such an angle that I would have fallen out of the chair had I not been so bound. I lifted my head up—my neck ached—and tried to see through a bit of my hair that had fallen in front of my eyes. Around me was a collection of people. They were the people who’d been at the party, but not all of them; nearly all of the people at this gathering were ones I was friends with or acquaintanced with or in some way knew. And they were all silent, looking at me.6

“What’s going on?” Fear gripped my heart. They wouldn’t hurt me, would they?7

“No hablo ingles,” said Jerry. My face briefly contorted in consternation. Jerry and I both had Spanish 3 together, and it was nearly always I who spoke Spanish to him, and only ever in a friendly or joking manner.8

“…Por que?” I asked. He didn’t answer, just walked out of sight somewhere behind me. No one came forward. “What’s going on?” I demanded, feeling nauseous with panic.9

“We’re judging you,” answered Sylvia, who was among the gaggle of people who stood in front of me against a wall. There were other people spread out on either side of me, and probably behind me as well, but they weren’t forming a uniform, organized ring or anything.10

“Judging me on what? What are you gonna do? You all know me!! I haven’t ever done anything to you, not really, not anything big! You know I’m a good person and I’ve always helped you out—”11

As my eyes skipped around on their faces, a thought ran through my head: What about Kalicia, what about Kalicia? I mean, I’d taken the girl she’d been interested in—I’d only known she was interested in her after I’d already been interested in the girl—and I’d apologized to Kalicia when I found out, and my relationship with the girl had only lasted a little over a month—was she still mad? Kalicia had been interested in this Greg guy afterward, but—12

“Shh!” a few people said.13

“Please tell me,” I begged, trying to remain calm. My only thought was if I showed signs of panic, they’d attack me—like a predator only chasing down its prey if the prey starts running.14

“Why have you been so interested in college? You’re only a junior. Is life all about the future?” asked a guy whose face I recognized, but whose name I couldn’t bring up.15

“N-no,” I choked. “It’s because I’m really excited and I want to keep learning—I never want to stop learning,” I said, quoting something I’d written in a college admissions essay that I’d started writing for practice. “I can’t wait to go out there and meet people and have new experiences and no longer be powerless—”16

“Do you know why you’re here?” the same boy asked.17

“No.” My face was wide and straight with fear.18

“This is a hazing.”19