To the editor,
I would like to thank all those involved with the Diversity Matters Festival at Red Rock Park because, when I was growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, the city was far from diverse.
Starting out in the Green Street projects in a three-bedroom apartment with 10 people was not easy.
We were lucky enough to have two parents. It was my mother who tried to teach us we were all equal and color did not matter. But my dad only knew what he learned and, boy, his mom was prejudiced. She didn’t even like his children because we were from the projects.
Catholic school became expensive for dad, having six kids enrolled and trying to save for his own home. So off we went to E.J. Harrington school. I had two best friends going there so it made the change OK. It wasn’t until Eastern Junior High School that I realized how prejudiced and homophobic the world really was.
I barely made it through grade seven. Then I got the worst teacher ever. She called me sissy, fag and queer daily. It sent me home many times crying and afraid to tell my mom, because yes, I was gay, but I didn’t even know.
It continued and I finally got the nerve to tell my mom. She immediately called Dr. Gandolfo, the principal. I finally went back to school. I had a crush on the girl to my right. She was the prettiest girl in class.
The teacher came between us and leaned in to me and said, “I thought you were gay. What are you, a n—– lover now?” I reached up and grabbed a clump of hair and pulled her head to the desk. The door flew open and Dr. Gandolfo screamed, “Mulcahy — to my office.”
I never said another word until my mom picked me up and we went home. Luckily, my dad slept most days while working 11-7 nights. “Don’t tell your father,” said mom.
That was it for my schooling until Mr. Nygren, another eighth-grade teacher, accepted me to his class. The doors had little porthole windows and the principal said, “I saw everything,” and I said “but you didn’t hear what she said!”
I quit school. That was my last time running home. It was hard leaving my friends, who were all Black and brown. The white kids were always harsh about the way I walked and my effeminate ways. I did try an alternative school, but didn’t fit in there either. My oldest brother, who also dropped out for the military, decided to get a GED and so I joined him and we both got diplomas in 1989.
I did learn one thing from my father: Try to save. So I worked at a low-budget motel as a maid. I scooped up all the change I found on end tables, dressers, even the floors. To this day, Aug. 31, 2021, I still have two large coffee cans full of change.
I had more change but it got stolen by a boyfriend of a guest at our Christmas party. I leave that up to karma.
I need everyone to know that a large city like Lynn needs The Daily Item, and an honest, diverse and very intelligent mayor like Jared Nicholson, an organization like the North Shore Juneteenth Association and one of its founding members and president, the lovely Nicole McClain.
Let us all get out on Sept. 14 for the election and make some change. The change I have left totals a lot and I would like to split it between Jared Nicholson and North Shore Juneteenth Association. God bless us all.
Bill Mulcahy
