In Memory of Jack

I really didn't see it coming. It cut right to my core; past the protective layer I have built around myself over the years.

For the last two weeks, I have tried to push it away. But it doesn't leave. It comes back, hovers, settling on my heart.

Last Monday, December 7th, I received an email from a mother telling me that her son Jack had killed himself. As I read her email my mind raced. Lots of kids email me. Who was this child? And then it hit me and brought me to my knees. Jack was a 17 year-old guy I emailed back and forth over the last year. Smart, funny, and insightful, he first contacted me to respectfully tell me that I was completely wrong about the basic premise of my work. Well not that it was exactly wrong, but absolutely unrealistic for anyone who wants to survive adolescence.

I love kids who argue with me. Especially smart ones who make excellent points. I want kids to take the huge risk of speaking out against humiliation. He thought that it was a futile effort. From his point of view it was better to be a good guy but keep it on the down low.

In Jack's own words:

Say what you will but every second guy in every high school acts like me. Maybe it doesn't excuse it but ill bet nobody really changes either. i genuinely like playing hockey and not just because of the girls so in part it is who I am. But in high school you cant both be a jock and do anything else if you are a guy. So if you liked 2 kinds of activities and one made you a victim and one made you cool can you honestly say you wouldn't pick the one that made you cool? I didn't think so. And it's way easier to do this and keep my gpa a secret. So maybe every guy is 1/2 douche bag and 1/2 good guy.

When I challenged him, he wrote back immediately:

Your right about being tired of the act but isn't that what life is? one big act. Aren't we all total phonies? And is that even such a bad thing? Like when my dad & mom divorced she was majorly sad but i knew i had to get her out of bed. So i acted like everything was a huge joke and sometimes she smiled & laughed. I could have acted the way I felt but who would it really help?

Ten days before he died he emailed me:

I don't normally send fan mail cause it is lame but you were awesome on anderson cooper. At my old school lots of guys would use homophobic slurs to pick on kids that weren't even gay. One of the PE teachers would even call us faggots and this one guy who probably was gay even if he wasn't out was picked on by this teacher as well as the other guys. Nobody did anything because they didn't want to be called a faggot either. I wish now I had of said something. I read your blog and I thought you totally tore them a new one and someone had to. Religious conservatives don't know what they are talking about. Or maybe they were the assholes in high school.

Let me tell you after a year of writing back and forth that praise was hard won. When I received it, I took it to heart. Not only what he said but the fact that he was willing to tell me that I had done well.

I emailed him back but didn't hear anything—until his mother wrote to me.

Of course, as a mom of two boys myself, I can't help but look at them and die inside for Jack's mom. But to be honest, I think the reason I am so devastated about Jack's death is entirely selfish. I was looking forward to seeing what an outstanding man Jack would become—because he already was one.

Jack's death also makes me so angry. Because I think we all contribute to a culture where boys aren't allowed to be authentic; to unapologetically have rich emotional lives. Boys hurt when they see other people humiliated. They feel betrayed when the adults in their lives dehumanize others. That coach Jack described? He cut into every one of those boys' souls and spirits. And finally boys, harden their hearts when they don't think there's any reason to hope it will ever be different.

So to all the really cool guys out there who are hiding their real selves, the sacrifice is too high.

To all the parents and teachers who say: "Boys just aren't as complicated as girls. Maybe they get into fights with each other but when it's over they forget about it." Look deeper. Ask more. Be present. Be authentic. And most important, look past the "Don't worry about it, I'm fine," veneer and allow them to be their authentic selves.

Would Jack think I was full of it for saying all that stuff I just did? It's a distinct possibility. In fact, as I worry that I shouldn't post this around the holidays, I can imagine the conversation we would have had. I think he would have said just write what's important and true to you. So I am and hope that as a result of reading this you will reach out even more to the people you treasure.

Will I rededicate myself to my work in honor of Jack? Yes—although it feels like that's the only thing I can do. But I'd rather not have to. I really needed him around. We all did. And I was looking forward to a lot more debates.