ANDREW'S STORY “The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” – 1 Samuel 16:6-8 “I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character” – Martin Luther King, Jr. Years ago when goth as a recognizable subculture was in its infancy, I was serving as a youth pastor and my “kids” were recognizably subculture though they didn’t fit neatly into one category or another. Some were what we would call today “goth” but others fit more into a punk or hardcore criteria. In those days the criteria dividing the subcultures were not so strict or as well defined as they are today – this was the early 80s. One day, we decided that instead of meeting at the church (we had our own youth room and it was an awesome meeting room), we would meet at an area pizza place. At the time, I was a banker and my wife was working for a major provider of health insurance. She and I both had a “dress code” to conform to and conform we did in order to retain our primary employment. The youth pastorate provided a small part-time income but hardly enough to live on as many ministers know. Janis and I agreed to get to the restaurant early and get enough seating for our group. We were expecting maybe 12 kids to join us, so we came directly from work – I was wearing a banker grey suit, and Janis was wearing a navy suit with a white blouse and high heels. When we walked in we were greeted by a friendly smiling hostess that asked us how many were in out party and then she promptly seated us. She was gracious, courteous, and kind, but within 15 minutes our kids started showing up – the goths and the punks with heavy black makeup, spiked hair, chains, leather, tattoos, piercings, we had it all, but they were loving decent kids – every one. The demeanor of our hostess noticeably changed and suddenly we were unable to get service. Over the last few years I have had the distinct privilege of corresponding with a number of goths over the internet primarily via e-mail. One person I write to almost every day is Andrew. Many of you may know him or know of him. Though he does not often attend our gatherings, he is still a very visible part of our community. I received a distressing message from Andrew this week that reminded me of that pizza place so long ago. I have edited Andrew’s words slightly to remove specific, identifying information but other than that his piece is presented to you exactly as it was presented to me: “We went to this little pub last night. Worst experience ever. We sit down at this table that has a name carved into it. Didn't think much of it, it was HUGE. No one could have missed it. We order, eat dinner. The manager comes over with our check and says, “You're gonna have to pay for that table. We have you on video carving into it.” He goes on and on about how he has Tawny on video carving her name into it, said her name was Michelle “'cause that’s what it says on the table.” I kept saying, “Show. Me. The. Tape.” He was going on about “its police evidence now! You no see!” He couldn't speak English too well. He said, “I calling cops!” So I texted my mom and said, “You may wanna come over, they're calling the police on us.” Me and Tawny walk outside with the manager, and I say to him, “Look, we didn't carve anything into the table. It was like that when we got there.” He says to me, “We have witness and video. She's going to jail. You're not; video shows her carving not you. Police will be here in 5 minutes.” I said again, “Show me the video. Take me to your security room, and if Tawny’s on it carving into the table, we'll pay for it.” He says, “It's in a private room.” I say, “Sir, the law states that if you have video evidence of someone vandalizing or stealing from a business, you have to show it to them if they ask you to.” He gets all pissed off and says, “She did it! She keeps her head down and is quiet! She did it!” And I say, “She doesn't speak. She gets shy when people accuse and yell at her.” He storms inside and this bartender comes outside and said, “What's going on?” So I tell him and he says, “Yeah...I believe you. Had a feeling this might happen. They didn't actually call the cops, you know.” And I say, “Yeah, they would be here by now.” I keep trying to tell Tawny that we can leave, but she's worried about the police showing up at the hotel room. My parents show up about this time, and my dad says, “You guys can walk away. Without showing you the video, you're free to go.” So we go and dad walks into the bar. Turns out they didn't have any witnesses or a video surveillance at all. They just wanted someone to pay for the table because they didn't catch who it was, and they thought they could scare me and Tawny into paying for it because of how we looked, got the waitress and the host to play along with it too. And the manager could speak English perfectly. Just wanted to try and throw us off. I wonder if the waitress feels guilty. I left her like a 30% tip before the manager came over.” — Andrew My beloved family in goth, I’m not going to make applications or draw lessons from these stories for you. I’m sure you have enough stories of your own. I simply wanted it shared. I asked Andrew if I could share it and he graciously said yes. Thank you Andrew, thank you Tawny, and much love to you all my brothers and sisters in goth, |