“Where’s your fur?” asks the first kid.
“Why are you at school all naked?!” ask quite a few.
(Though I am wearing a shirt and trousers. Just not the fur.)
“Jesus, you look human!” shouts someone all shocked at my appearance.
I feel the stress. The terror.
I do feel shame.
But I hold my head up high, and behave as if it’s okay to not be normal. To not wear my fur.
It doesn’t take long for teachers to express concern.”Are you okay? Is everything all right at home? What happened?”
I pretend it’s me choosing to look this way. Me expressing my individuality.
I’m too ashamed to admit it’s my stepdad punishing me for being late to dinner.
He says I’m not allowed to wear furs all week.
The teachers don’t look convinced, but they let it slide.
They let a lot of things slide.
Until the principal sees me.
The principal calls CPS straight away.
Somehow when it’s the CPS talking with me, it all spills out. The beatings. The standings in the corners with buckets of water on extended arms. And now this: “No furs to school for a week!!!”
The CPS takes me away.
They take me someplace safe.
They give me furs to wear.
I cry myself to sleep that night from sheer relief.
So different from the tears I cried at home.
gyllenbogel 