At 4:30 am Mechanic's cell phone rang. He always sleeps through it so I groggily picked it up and said hello. Mama was on the other end.

Mama's words were nearly incomprehensible but I could make out that he was talking about QTBoy, "beat up," and "hospital." I shook Mechanic awake and handed him the phone while I started to get dressed.

At 4:35 am Mechanic, Mama and I were standing outside our building waiting for the taxi we had called. Apparently one of QTBoy's friends had come knocking on Mama's door less than an hour ago, saying that QTBoy had been taken to Harbor View Hospital. We did not know how bad he was hurt or even what happened.

The young man who had knocked on Mama's door and a friend were already waiting at the emergency room. They told us how they had all been out drinking at a certain gay bar on Capitol Hill, and then QTBoy had parted company with them. He was walking down Pine Street sometime about 3:00 to 3:30 in the morning, alone, under the influence of alcohol. Just trying to go home.

I can't tell you how many times we have all worried about his constant habit of walking home from the bars alone.

Two men attacked him. We don't know how it started and it doesn't really matter. They had him in the middle of the street, on the ground, kicking the snot out of him while yelling things like 'faggot.' They stole his cell phone and a few other items. People drove by but no one stopped to help. He remembers just screaming, asking for help, but no help came.

Two police officers stopped, but when they saw his bloody condition, according to QTBoy, they said something about he was just a fag and probably had AIDS. He asked them to call his roommate, Mama, and they refused. The cops drove away so QTBoy started walking back up to Capitol Hill.

He landed in front of the bar he had been at earlier in the evening. A young man, a stranger, found him lying on the curb. Without a second thought, this angelic man sat down and held QTBoy, despite the blood that was everywhere. Cops and an ambulance were called, but by this time QTBoy was afraid and combative. He had to be wrestled to the ground and cuffed, then he was thrown into the ambulance.

It is my understanding that if someone refuses medical care, it cannot be forced upon them. I guess those rules don't apply in Seattle. Yeah, QTBoy was injured - there was blood everywhere. But to hear his angelic helper describe it, these peace officers and professionals were rude, used excessive force, and made very discriminatory remarks.

The young man accompanied QTBoy to the hospital, and he was struggling to stay awake as he sat in one of those uncomfortable chairs when we arrived. Of course, none of us were related to QTBoy by blood so they didn't want to tell us anything. But we persisted, pointing out that we were the only family he had in this area. Mama said she was his roommate. The friend who had knocked on Mama's door also happened to be an off-duty cop. Somehow the hospital staff came to the conclusion that it would be alright to tell us that QTBoy was fine, undergoing some tests, and we could see him soon.

We all waited right there at the door between the waiting room and the treatment rooms. At one point I think everyone had tried to call QTBoy's cell phone. The first two times, one of the assailants had answered. The first time they told us that they had beaten him, capped him, and shoved him into a trunk. I don't remember what was said the second time.

When QTBoy walked through those doors, I couldn't help the tears that came to my eyes.

All he was wearing were a pair of khaki shorts and his boxers. No shirt. No shoes. They were gone. His blond hair was red from the blood. The blood was just everywhere, from head to toe. His nose was cut and bleeding, and looked like it might be broken. His leg was cut and bleeding. His arm was hurting him. Apparently after hearing about being kicked repeatedly in the head, the doctors decided it was important to do a CAT scan.


But as any sane individual could hopefully understand, by this time QTBoy was in shock. He alternated between inappropriate laughter and abject depression, at one point telling us to all leave him, and he would just sleep in a gutter somewhere. Oh my god, how my heart broke for him.

He ended up walking out, and we took him home. Mama and Mechanic tried to help him clean up but he was still in the shock, not letting anyone near, afraid that 'they' were still after him, and alternately thinking that Mama and Mechanic were trying to attack him.

We brought QTBoy up to our place. We let him sleep on our cot. We didn't care if he got anything bloody. We were just thankful he was alive! By this time it was midmorning and all of our friends were starting to trickle over to the building.

I played hospital warden, despite the pain I was still in from the 4th of July. Everything from walking to sitting to lying down hurt, but I didn't care. I directed everyone down to Mama's apartment. They gathered there to talk, to find out the latest on QTBoy's status, to comfort one another that this had happened to one of us. Meanwhile, Mechanic and I kept the apartment as peaceful and comfortable as possible, and he finally got a little sleep. He needed that really bad. After a few hours, he awoke with a splitting headache but wanted to clean up. People wanted to visit but he did not want to be seen like this.

After he had a shower and some Tylenol, we let in a couple people at a time. It did not take long for him to wear out, and I shooed everyone away. There were times Mechanic and I would just look at each other, fighting to hold back the tears. Mama was often coming by or calling to check on her baby.

Before we left the hospital, I'd talked to the young man who had, in my eyes, saved QTBoy, who was an angel sent to help him when we didn't know he was hurt. It turns out that this young man works for a partner agency for the nonprofit organization where I work. I can't say I was too surprised to hear that his profession involves helping others. What a heart of gold he must have to help a total stranger like that, without fear for his own safety, only concern for another's life.

This coming on the heels of my own recent experience with prejudice against gays has combined to renew some of the fears I have fought so hard against. Am I safe walking to the store? Am I safe going to work?

I guess I thought that we, as a society, had come further than this. Yet all those around me who deal with the discrimination every day -- Mechanic, Mama, Queen, QTBoy, and others -- assure me that it is alive and well here in Seattle, and elsewhere.

Goddess, please bless us all with more open hearts, tolerance, and love for one another. Gay, straight, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered..... those are all just descriptions or accessories, the same as if you divided people by the color of their hair. We are all human underneath. Please help us learn that so the violence can end.

~Paisley Blue