Not Thinking Straight
Friday,
March 25, 2005
Volume 33,
Issue 12
Fri, Nov 20, 2009
IN THE SGN
SECTION ONE
Front Page
MORE/ALL
SECTION ONE
STORIES
SECTION TW0
Arts & Entertainment
by Madelyn Arnold |
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| Contemplating Suicide | ||
| Not All Homeless Are Jerks...
The other day one of the fellows who sells papers on 15th came up and rang my hand like a man whod found religion. Ive seen people who feel reborn, but I think he was a little more grateful I want to tell you, he said. You saved my life! I couldnt be sure of the circumstances, but I seemed to remember he had looked cold. I was freezing, he said. And I hadnt had anything to eat all day. I thought I could get some papers, but there was something wrong and it didnt come out on time, so I was spare-changing and nobody wouldnt give me nothing, and while I was arguing with this guy who goes why-dont-you-get-a-job, somebody swipes my sleeping bag; and I go to the guy who stole it, and he and his other guy beats me up. I was seeing double, and I was so hungry, plus I was cold, and you go: Hey, go warm up, you look like youre freezing and hand me this five! Ill never forget you! He went joyfully on about gratitude, but I was reminded of somebody else. A woman freshly back in Seattle who was living in a car by the Ship Canal, in The Summertime It was the Thursday before Labor Day and this woman, call her Joanne, had had an interview for a teaching position. They had hired her. She had shaken all appropriate hands, and in fact was genuinely grateful. The salary would certainly beat what she had been earning, but at the moment she couldnt afford a place to live. And friends werent very friendly. Joanne had been traveling cross country trying for jobs doing almost anything almost anywhere her old Dodge chose to die, which it did often. In Omaha, shed been relieved of $1,000. She had been having engine trouble and she couldnt prove it, but the diagnosis was entirely too convenient: the air filter, the oil filter, the thing that sieved the transmission oil and a dozen other gizmos had given up all at once she had stood by the car while mechanics whistled and bustled around, announcing her cars diseases. Youve never been homeless, have you? she remarked. She was over a barrel; she had had to give up two-thirds of her cash, which wasnt her only debacle. She discovered that Whitefish, South Dakota, was host every year to a biker convention. She didnt have any trouble at all attracting attention from unpleasant men. That had been bad. But now she was in for at least a year; however, she wouldnt be paid until the end of a full month of work, which didnt start until the next month. That is, coming up with new clothes, laundry and dry-cleaning; food, dog food, paper and supplies while living in her car, since she had no money. So she sliced the veins in her arms from the wrist to the inner aspect of the elbow, and across her throat, interfering with her voice. It was amazing how painful it was to cut the throat, but she was so happy. Psychologists say one thing to watch out for in preventing suicide is sudden happiness relief in a person who has been depressed. Joanne was happy enough to be downright giddy. She found herself in that part of the UW campus which abuts Lake Union; it was finally time to stop struggling so hard. She had decided to slip into the black oily water but it was hard to keep her footing in all the blood. And suddenly there were five or six policeman. They grabbed her, had her pinned down on the slippery grass wrists, knees and ankles. Laughing uproariously in the ambulance, still pinning her, although she protested that she could not fight off five grown men, so they neednt be rough... And Not All Jerks Are Homeless At Harborview Joanne was strapped down and a young student was told to sew her up, and not too gently; but he was callow, if not kind: he made to give her a nerve block for the stitches. His boss saw this and screamed Dont waste that on that bitch! But the block had already taken. The Boss heard her thank the student for his care, and simply flipped; thrusting his face at her and screeching: You want to die? Ill tell you how to die. Go jump off the Aurora Bridge. Tie one end of a rope around your neck and the other to the bridge and jump. Your head will split off your neck and you cant fuck that up! His name was something like Compass. Gee, youre cute when youre angry, she said. He screamed like a woman. It was the Thursday before Labor Day, which meant that the customary post-suicide Commitment would last at least four days. Friends who had not let her stay with them came to tell her how much they hated her. (The less concerned just called and left a message.) This was about not enabling her to something. Maybe succeed. The psychiatric lockup had many patients and few workers, so the workers locked themselves in the Nurses Station with the TV. Dangerous patients preyed on all the others. When court convened, Joannes court-appointed lawyer told her what to say, so the judge let her go. Apparently Natural Questioning a number of self-identified Gay males, the American Journal of Public Health [2000] found that one in five had attempted suicide; its authors were concerned whether its small sample exaggerated this figure. Actually, later studies correlate well with this and with each other. A Minnesota study of Gay and Bisexual high school youth discovered that 28 percent had attempted suicide, and a Massachusetts survey of all ages came up with a figure of 27.5 percent. A 1998 study of male teens maintained that Gay/Bi kids have suicidal ideation at three times the rate of straight kids. But only the coroners know how many succeed. Only one study included girls or women, but it is firmly established that women in general attempt suicide at many times the rate of men, although men succeed more often most likely because women tend to use less violent (less efficient) means. Other factors play a role, but apparently Lesbian/Bi women are also more likely to exit than their straight sisters. Compared to whites, African-Americans commit suicide very seldom, and sociologists assume that greater social cohesion and support in Black Communities makes the difference. Maybe so. Well, living in a car by the ship Canal didnt bind me very close to The Community. Maybe if I were Black... Or maybe not. Madelyn Arnold, an early Gay Liberation activist, is a novelist and journalist who has contributed to the SGN since 1975. A Midwest transplant, she finds the dark, dank Pacific Northwest just fine. If you suffer from the delusion that this is the best of all possible worlds, look up the Journal of the Family Research Institute, especially for anything by Dr. Paul Cameron. It can make sense right up to the point where its absolute nonsense. |
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 GENERAL GAYETY Leslie Robinson |
 LESBIAN NOTIONS Paula Martinac |
