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Kim Voynar

By Kim Voynar Voynar@moviecitynews.com

Constance McMillen and the Super Secret Prom

Hey y’all, you know what would be funny? Like, hysterically funny? Like, let’s hold a super-secret prom and not tell that bee-yatch Constance McMillen about it! Then she and her lesbo girlfriend and the stupid LD kids will show up for that prom, while we are across town partying it up at our own private prom! Won’t that be, like, hilarious, y’all?! And then we’ll put pics of our secret prom on our Facebook pages to make sure we give the ACLU more arsenal for their stupid lawsuit, and so the whole world will know we’re a bunch of teenage bigots! Hahahahah! Boy, won’t THAT be something to be proud of later?
I was holding out on writing this up until there was some kind of confirmation that it actually happened, and now Constance has confirmed that it did.
Boy, you just can’t beat the stupid out of some people. In spite of Constance McMillen’s lawsuit against her school district when her high school denied her the right to attend her prom with her girlfriend, her bigoted fellow classmates (with, I’m sure, the help of their equally bigoted parents) still managed to keep Constance from going to her prom.
The school district had alleged in defending the lawsuit that the prom her school had canceled just to keep her from attending would, in fact, be held and that she would, in fact, be invited to it. And there was such a prom, and she was invited to the prom. Problem is, only seven people showed up to the official prom, with the rest of the students apparently attending a super-secret prom held in another location. What’s particularly shocking about this is that the entire student body apparently colluded in keeping Constance and the other kids who showed up for the official prom (two of whom have learning disabilities) from knowing about their secret prom.
Blogger Joe.My.God has pics on his site culled from a Facebook page of the teenage bigots partying it up at their secret prom, while Constance, her girlfriend, and the five other kids who showed up for the official prom sat at the other one wondering what the hell happened (well, I’m sure Constance is smart enough that she figured it out pretty quickly).
This whole business stinks to high heaven, but if you’ve seen Prom Night in Mississippi, the documentary about another Mississippi high school that held segregated proms until just a couple years ago (also with the collusion of parents and school officials) it’s not terribly shocking to learn that this kind of blatant ignorance and discrimination could happen in 2010. Apparently in Mississippi, some folks think it’s terribly important to teach their children that keeping those uppity gays in their place is important work. Wonder how many of them are also secretly Klan members? And how many of them went to church on Easter Sunday, false faces carefully in place as they purported to worship Jesus, who taught us to love our neighbor as ourselves, and to remove the mote from our own eye.
Seems like some folks down there need to read their Bibles a little more carefully. Criminy.
Constance seems to have a good head on her shoulders in spite of the bullshit that’s surrounded this whole affair. I hope she knows there are plenty of folks outside Mississippi who supported her fight to attend her prom and her right to be who she is, and who admire the bravery she’s shown in being an openly gay teen while surrounded by bigots. Frankly, I’m shocked she hasn’t been physically attacked yet. I also sincerely hope that Constance, when graduation is over (and hopefully there won’t be a “secret” graduation to which she’s not invited) will move the hell out of Mississippi and go live in NYC, or San Francisco, or Seattle … some place where she can be openly who she is without dealing with as much of that nonsense.

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“I was 15 when I first watched Sally Hardesty escape into the back of a pickup truck, covered in blood and cackling like a goddamn witch. All of her friends were dead. She had been kidnapped, tortured and even forced to feed her own blood to her cannibalistic captors’ impossibly shriveled patriarch. Being new to the horror genre, I was sure she was going to die. It had been a few months since I survived a violent sexual assault, where I subsequently ran from my assailant, tripped, fell and fought like hell. I crawled home with bloody knees, makeup-stained cheeks and a new void in both my mind and heart. My sense of safety, my ability to trust others, my willingness to form new relationships and my love of spending time with people I cared about were all taken from me. It wasn’t until I found the original The Texas Chain Saw Massacre that something clicked. It was Sally’s strength, and her resilience. It was watching her survive blows to the head from a hammer. It was watching her break free from her bonds and burst through a glass window. It was watching her get back up after she’d been stabbed. It was watching her crawl into the back of a truck, laughing as it drove away from Leatherface. She was the last one to confront the killer, and live. I remember sitting in front of the TV and thinking, There I am. That’s me.”
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