“I don’t know if I could forgive somebody the way he’s been able to forgive me.” – Tim Zaal
“I knew the only way I was going to get past it was to forgive him—and that is a huge undertaking.” – Matt Boger
Those two quotes open the short documentary “Facing Fear,” which will be shown at Outfest as part of the “Queerer Than Fiction” program. The 23-minute film tells the remarkable story of Boger, who as a homeless teenager survived a horrific anti-gay attack in West Hollywood, and of Zaal, one of his attackers. The two met again years later and, against all odds, became friends.
The Attack
Boger was living on the streets because, when he was 13, he was kicked out of his home. His mother wouldn’t accept that he was gay.
It didn’t occur to Boger that there might be resources to help him get off the street. He didn’t know where to turn in a society that seemed to hate him.
“To me, it was like, who’s going to help?” Boger said.
At that time, Zaal was a teenager craving power and control.
Zaal got into a punk scene that was then rife with violence, and he fell in with a group known as “Nazi punks.” They appealed to him because he viewed them as “more punk that anyone else” and considered the “wide berth” they were given a sign of respect. They were a violent group. They would do terrible things in L.A., he said, then flee to their suburban homes and avoid facing the consequences.
One night, 17-year-old Zaal and his friends drove around the Sunset Strip area in an adrenaline-charged rampage. They threw things at people they thought were hippies or prostitutes. They stopped a few times to beat people up. A “mob mentality” escalated the violence.
They pulled up across the street from what was then Oki’s-Dog. One of the “Nazi punks” yelled out a slur, something like, “Let’s go kill the faggots,” remembers Zaal.
Boger and other patrons scattered, and the Nazi punks gave chase. Zaal fought with one man who got away, then turned to see that others had Boger pinned down. The group beat Boger. Some cut him with blades attached to their boots. But it was Zaal who delivered the kick to Boger’s forehead that likely knocked him unconscious.
As the 14-year-old Boger blacked out, he saw some of his attackers high-fiving. Boger believed they were celebrating because they thought they had killed him. For years, Zaal wondered if they had.
Among the attackers, the celebratory mood didn’t last. They never told anyone what they’d done, and they never discussed it. It became a dark secret.
When Boger regained consciousness, he didn’t call the police or go to the hospital. He bandaged his own wounds — wounds that left permanent scars on his arms and forehead — and went on sleeping in Plummer Park. He remained homeless for three years. After that, a friend helped him get off the streets, and he turned his life around.
While Boger’s life took a positive turn, Zaal’s continued to spiral out of control. The so-called “Nazi punks” he ran with as a teen weren’t part of any organized racist movement, but before long Zaal was a true skinhead. At the time, the racist element appealed to him; he preferred to blame others for his problems rather than face them head-on. It was also a way to escalate the thrill-seeking that had become his drug of choice. That drug-like effect, though, wore off over time. That’s one reason Zaal left the skinheads; another reason was his son.
Zaal’s son, whose mother was also associated with the so-called “white power” movement, spent the earliest years of his life in that “racist bubble.” On a few occasions, he got in trouble at school for using racial slurs. One day the young boy loudly used a slur in a grocery store. Zaal felt shame and guilt. He decided he needed to make a change.
For most of his life, Zaal said, he went from negative to negative.
“I got tired of it, and so I found a positive,” he said.
Redemption and Healing
Boger was volunteering at the Museum of Tolerance, where he is now on staff as a manager, when he met Zaal, a former white supremacist who spoke to museum guests about his past.
The two had known each other a few months when, during a casual conversation, Boger realized that Zaal had been among the attackers who left him for dead in an ally.
“It was very painful for both of us,” said Boger, who had a lot of questions about what had motivated the attack. “We are facing a lot of demons on both sides of our story.”
It took time to work through, Boger said, but “He was able to open up, and I was able to forgive him.”
Why would Boger forgive Zaal? That’s a question museum guests often ask during their presentations. Boger said that forgiving Zaal helped him view himself as a survivor rather than a victim. He hasn’t forgotten about what happened, but it doesn’t feel like something that defines his life. It also helped him forgive his now-deceased mother for rejecting him.
Zaal, too, faced a journey as he grappled with how to forgive himself.
“That’s been my hardest struggle,” said Zaal, who acknowledges that Boger is one of many people who was hurt by his actions over the years.
Today, Zaal deals with anger through prayer and meditation. He works to empathize with others instead of giving in to anger. He doesn’t identify with the lanky 17-year-old version of himself who was high on adrenaline and eager to be considered “cool” by the violent Nazi punks.
“If I can change, anybody can change,” Zaal said in the It Gets Better video he and Boger recorded.
From Hate to Hope
Boger and Zaal give a joint presentation called “From Hate to Hope,” in which they share their story and have a dialogue with the audience.
It was this presentation that paved the way for “Facing Fear,” a project of the Fetzer Advisory Council on the Arts. The film was directed and produced by Jason Cohen.
“Jason did an incredibly powerful job,” Boger said. “When I watch it, I still cry.”
“Facing Fear” will be included in Outfest’s Queerer Than Fiction program. You can see the collection of documentary shorts on Saturday, July 13 at 11:30 a.m. or on Sunday, July 14 at 9:30 p.m. at the Directors Guild of America (DGA). Tickets are $13 and are available online.
