A classroom among several others was put into the upstairs library. Picking his room, Dean sank into his chair, alone at the end of the third row against the opposite wall. He took out his books. English wasn't so bad. It was just tons of reading. His professor bustled in, her short, graying blonde hair framing a wrinkling face as she pushed thick-rimmed glasses up her nose and pushed her things onto the desk. She was tall and graceful but always dressed like a southern farm girl from the eighties. They shared classrooms here, so nothing in this room was hers, but she was given several classrooms for several classes she had to teach, so she was used to it.
"Put away your textbooks," she said, waving at the class of ten or less who had chosen to show up. "We're going to study Sappho's poems today and there are none in your book." She hastily brought up the computer and flipped a switch. A projector screen descended from the ceiling slowly as she brought up the projector, scrolling through pages and pages of poems. "Ah! Here. 'he appears to me, that one, equal to the gods.'" Launching into the ancient Greek and classical period, she made it very clear that to be a poet as a woman was quite a feat. Dean was fine just taking notes until his professor brought up another point. "Back in ancient Greece, it was common for men to be gay," she explained, polishing her glasses on the sleeve of her old denim dress. "The Olympics and most sports were performed naked, so for obvious reasons that was accepted. No women were allowed to attend, and if women were gay, it was scorned specifically because it would limit child bearing – Sappho herself had chosen to be a lesbian. That's where the name 'lesbian' originates. She came from the island of Lesbos and there are many stories and paintings of her sex with other women. Not much of her work survived – we assume it was either never published so the manuscripts were lost or someone ordered them destroyed because of its threat to Greek society. But she was full of love for women and men alike. She even had a daughter that she loved very dearly, so she even had relations with a husband before she was exiled to Sicily for her choices and poetry.
"She was prosecuted, but men would be allowed to have male lovers while they were married, and bear children with a woman simply to further his name. They were open and quite well off with themselves around this time." Her eyes alighted right over Dean, and he swallowed, clutching his pencil until his knuckles were white. She moved on casually, sighing. "The past two centuries had become a very hostile place for the gay community - but that is an entirely new and secret and sensitive can of worms. Nowadays it's forgotten how common it used to be.
"After the Greek empire fell, with it fell traditions that lead so easily to homosexuality; and though everything endures, that doesn't make it any less difficult. I mean, come on, guys, girls. In ancient times, lesbians were hated and gay men were sympathized! The total opposite of what we have now. Men love to see women making out, but two men making out? Bring out the pitchforks.
"And isn't it the same reason? Kids? Two guys can't have a child, and neither can two girls, but they can adopt. 'A child should have a mother and a father.' Two women can raise a child just fine, apparently. But two men? Obviously not. That's the opinion held by over 80% of society today. Do you think that's fair?" Most of the heads in the room shook 'no.' Dean sat still as a stone, and the few guys in the room gave sour faces. The professor picked one of them off. "You. Jay. Thoughts?"
"I think it's just wrong." He grumbled, his body language closed off. "Men and women were made to be together. Two guys? That's just… gross."
"The ancient sentiment has been imbedded in you by your parents, and TV, probably, and your friends and family," the teacher agreed. "But just because its gross to you doesn't mean your heterosexuality isn't gross to a gay man or a gay girl, you know." Laughter echoed in the classroom. Comically, she grinned, her wisdom glowing. "It's true! What if they see you kissing in the hallway? Like, ew, gross! Look at them swapping spit! Yuck!" More laughter. She smiled and took off her glasses, pacing before the class with patience. "That's what I mean. It sounds ridiculous, and maybe not all gays think that way, but it's not fair to just say 'that's just gross!' Some tiny men marry big women. Some tiny women marry big men. That's a little gross to me, but it's considered wrong to be grossed out by true love. In hetero's that is." She eyed them and the laughter had changed to confusion. She was right, wasn't she?
Her eyes landed on Dean. He thought he was going to melt into a puddle and evaporate. "Dean," she called. "Thoughts?" He shook his head slowly, flashing her a sheepish smile, but she smiled at him. "Come on. Nothing to add, nothing at all?" Her sharp look left no room for argument.
His Adams apple bobbed. "Well…" He cleared his throat. "I mean, I guess it's… tough for them. I'm not really sure how many people choose to be that way, and how many are born like that – it might be all of one or the other, I don't know. But just being... different like that, it's got to be rough. Like, you pick someone out of your circle of friends and suddenly you're in love with them. Why does it have to matter what gender they are, who they are, why it happened? If its love, its love, right? Well, to the world, it matters. Everything matters. Everybody judges you. But if you knew that, if you couldn't help it, and you still love them anyway, and they love you, then it's gotta be real. It has to be. I mean no one chooses to be scorned for life unless it's who they really are. I don't think its right to judge them. Even if we think it's wrong – cause that takes guts."
"Well said." His professor said gently. "Well said. What have the gays ever done to us, right? Nothing. Not a thing. And we treat them like we used to treat blacks and Asians. As if they were less just for looking different, or having different traditions. You can think any way you like. Just try and think about your reasons to think the way you do – are they fair? Would you want someone to judge you for loving who you love?" Silence. The guys were fuming, the girls looked thoughtful. With a deep breath, the professor launched into the courage of Sappho and her ways, even though she was prosecuted, and the subject of gays was dropped. But Dean had never felt so honest and so terrified. What had he just done? What would they think? He rubbed his eyes roughly. Why did it matter so much? Why?
Just to make it smoother I had a few words to the first chapter. Check it out if you like.