My first brush with contempt happened in sixth grade.  A new boy enrolled in the tiny Lutheran private school I attended.  I knew how hard it is to break into a new school, so I tried to be nice to him, to make him feel welcome. For whatever reason, he responded to my friendliness by calling me an unspeakable name.  I still remember the moment for a number of reasons.  Firstly, no one ever called me a name like that before this.  Secondly, the sexually explicit term he called me felt like an assault.  I felt the hurt all over my body. You have heard that it was said to…