KarMel Scholarship 2005

“Holding Hands”

By Frank Paiva

Desciption of Submission: “Experiences with boyfriend at the mall.” - Frank

Like many suburban teens, the marketing forces of America long ago instilled in me the rejuvenating power of the mall. How a centrally located commercial establishment containing nearly every product you need in life and certainly every product you don’t need can heal the soul remains a mystery. Perhaps it’s the joy and sense of accomplishment that comes with finding something way cool on sale. Maybe it’s because the mall is the only place us hip young people (and our money) get respect in a world where “The Man” lurks behind every corner.

The mall creates a unifying sense of consumer culture. Either you’re there to buy something, or you’re there to soak in the glory of products you can’t buy. The staple food court is as much of a social arena as a place to eat, a watering hole for the new age. The numerous cell phone booths remind us that it’s communication between people that’s really what’s important, and the big department stores are a hierarchy of his and hers products.

All of this makes it pretty difficult to do anything with your boyfriend.

Yes, the mall may be ready for stores with clothing for pre-teen girls that practically initiate them into a career of prostitution and tackiness, but the sight of two teenage boys in love holding hands? Quick, somebody get them away from my children and me. What are they doing here? This is a mall. I’m here to buy some shoes, not to see stupid boys make a political statement.

I get really tired of the pointing and the occasional mouth drop. Equally disgusting are the women who we don’t know that suddenly expect an outfit consultation.

I want to help someone avoid a fashion disaster if I can, but liking other boys shouldn’t automatically give me a qualification card. Just look at some of the hideous past purchases in my closet.

What I dislike most is the grabbing of children by the hand and leading them away, as if we’re going to start scamming on preschoolers or something.

The reason boys and girls across the country are often afraid about coming out is because they know homosexuality is something to be feared. Gays are the other, segmented into their small neighborhood wedge in town. Should attempts be made to break out of this niche, the results could get bad.

Even our supporters shake their heads. Some want to support, but they just miss the point. An elderly woman once told us, “Good for you guys! Don’t you care what anyone thinks.” She obviously meant to be compassionate, but she also ignored the o underlying principle: It just shouldn’t matter. Holding hands isn’t a political statement; it's how two people feel about each other. Nothing more and nothing less. It seems, however, that the local mall just isn’t ready.

Come with me the next time my boyfriend and I go to the mall. Watch the sea of people that part for us to create a path outlined by ignorance and fear. Observe the little kids, possible future members or allies of the gay community, pulled to the sidelines. See the awesome 50% off pants I get to first on the display rack because everyone else was trying to avoid the two boys in love.

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