A son's lesson

When I first heard about Tyler Clementi, the Rutgers freshman whose suicide has drawn anger and sorrow, I felt that - as a society - we were going nowhere.

But it was my son who made me feel differently. He could somehow relate to what happened, because he knows there are bullies out there. A long time ago, kids may have feared the bullies, and ignored the victim.

Bullies are bullies, and they come in every color, gender and sexual orientation. When a 12-year-old can connect to the tormented soul of an 18-year-old gay man, and show disdain for those who tormented him, I feel like it's safe to have hope - even as we mourn Tyler's death.

For nearly all my life, the lesbian and gay community have been treated like second-class citizens. Their lifestyles are routinely mocked and ridiculed. Many are still forced into the closet, even as society seems to have reached a sobering understanding and respect for what homosexuality is.

Clementi's death reminded me that so many more are still tormented, even as they stay safely in the shadows, keeping their private lives protected. Even at my college, my alma mater, and where I work as an adjunct professor, I thought they had a chance because of the diverse population.

But at my college, Tyler was filmed by another student while he was having a sexual encounter. For a small group of students, it was a funny thing, an anti-manly thing straight out of a 1962 joke book.

When my son needed to think of his current-event project for school, it was the first thing he thought about. I won't say what he said, but he felt like he needed to say something.

We warned him that he could be ridiculed, too. Maybe people would even make fun of him for showing an understanding of a lifestyle that many still don't understand.

But my son felt like he should do it, because Tyler and his family needed to know that he's on their side. My guess is that he wanted to take a stand, because somebody should.