"Leaving the Lights On" by Keira S

 

"Why are you not afraid of ghosts?" I asked my mom. “I am more worried about people than ghosts,” she responded. I looked at her confused. It was simple to me, people were real and visible. Ghosts on the other hand were unexplainable and unpredictable. These various unanswered questions filled my mind, making me forever fearful of the supernatural.

 

When I was younger, my brother would go on to recount his own ghost stories, “While I looked into the mirror, I saw a tall black figure peeking out from the door. I wasn’t scared though, I just stared at it until it vanished.” Terrified by the idea of the unknown, I wrapped myself in a blanket until my mom comforted me. With a look of pity, she would always give me the same advice, “The best way to deal with a ghost is to not let it feed on your fear. What you give is what you receive.” Still, this advice did not stop me from sleeping with the lights on.

 

            It would not be long before I found that ghosts were not the only things I had to worry about. One day my mom stopped by the mailbox, and I watched as a flier posted on its side caught her attention. With a confused look, she readjusted her glasses, then turned towards me to roll her eyes. As soon as she opened the car door I asked her what the flier was about. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” my mom replied.

 

Overwhelmed by curiosity, I later walked back to the mailbox to examine the flier for myself. Reading each word felt like swallowing daggers. “Gays are not welcomed in this neighborhood” titled the paper in bold, followed by a quote from the biblical story of Sodom and Gommorah.

 

I spent the rest of the night pacing through my room, taking frequent glances outside to see if I would spot any activity at the mailbox. This hate was unexplainable, out of the ordinary, and in the heat of frustration, I realized that people and ghosts were more similar than I thought.

 

When I realized I was gay, I knew there was not always going to be a safe place for people like me. Accepting this reality, I trained myself to become my own pillar of stability, radically accepting the person I was despite the opinions of the outside world. Now I realized it was not enough if I could not incorporate the same sense of stability in my own community by uplifting the unheard voices around me.

 

 I reminisced about what I would usually do whenever I heard a scary ghost story, leave the lights on. While my lights would not eliminate the ghost problem, it offered me a sense of comfort, illuminating my space to remind me that I was not trapped in an overwhelming sea of darkness, but rather, the room I had grown up in since I was little. If I wanted my neighborhood to be a space of self expression, I needed my written word to be the light to challenge this intolerance.

 

On a piece of paper, I wrote a quote from Matthew 7:1, “Judge not, that you be not judged.” I knew my neighbor’s views were already set in stone, but my goal was to send a message to the whole community. It was my way of lighting up the room, bringing a sense of comfort that one person’s views do not reflect the values of the entire neighborhood. The next day, I stuck the paper onto the mailbox, hoping to use religion as a mode of establishing respect to unite us, instead of as a weapon to divide.

 

Today, the same ghost stories that used to have me cowering under my blankets have become my biggest inspiration. As I look out into my neighborhood, my mom’s words echo in my mind, “What you give is what you receive.”

 

Advocacy has become my life’s work, weaved into passions, I look to the future with hope. A hope I carried when I helped plan my first queer event when I was a youth ambassador for Youth Mentoring Action Network. A hope that I carry as I spend days planning local cleanups so that people no longer have to witness barren grape fields become dumping grounds. A hope that as I continue to learn, I can use my education to propel me to give back to my community.

 

Though my problems may not vanish easily like an apparition, I continue to stare down and confront the challenges I encounter in my everyday life. While looking out my window, I make a promise to myself, to no longer be caged by fear, but to carry the light of hope, viewing every moment as having the potential to be transformative.