Al

Al, age 2

North East, Pennsylvania (1972)

I am the youngest of four siblings. I have two older brothers, and you've heard about the "gay theory" right? The more older brothers you have, the more likely you could be gay.

I'm not sure exactly what age I knew I was gay, but I knew I always liked looking at male bodies at summer camp, in gym class, at swim practice, and on TV. And I just thought all guys were feeling that, too. So as long as I wasn't blatantly obvious, no one ever said anything to me.

I knew of two pretty "out" guys (well, as out as you could be back then) who were obviously gay. I don't know if they ever announced this, but they never seemed to have any problems with it in school.

I was always interested in other things besides sports. I played with Barbie dolls with my three close "girl friends" from the neighborhood. So that might have been a clue. Plus I was always taking Ken's clothes off as often as I could! 

As a pre-teen, I used to dance to my 45 records alone in our basement. It was very "Solid Gold" type dancing. And I wonder if any of my family members ever saw me? Surely, they would have known.

I was also fascinated with "celebrity" culture.
Wanting to be a celebrity, and wanting to meet one. 

Because I thought if I became famous, I would finally feel loved.

See, my parents were from the generation where verbal "I love you's" never happened. And as a gay child who already felt different and alienated from my whole family, I needed and wanted that extra assurance and care from my parents.

One family moment that stays in my memory was a New Year's Eve party at our house, and I was told that you kiss everyone at midnight. I was around age 9, and I went and kissed my brother on the lips. And I remember him reacting strongly against that. I don't remember my parents reaction exactly, but I'm sure somehow that moment seeped into my subconscious: it isn't OK to kiss another man.

Another strong memory was getting my International Male magazine subscription around age 15, the closest thing we had to male erotica at the time. I used to pretend I was one of the models, and would "hump" the bed. But I was imagining it was a woman, not a man. Certainly kind of odd, right?

I also used to rent those soft-core straight movies like "Red Shoe Diaries" in the 80's, and I knew I was only renting it for the men, because they were all usually very hot, and there was always a lot of nudity! But I never watched any gay porn until after I came out after college.

But speaking of college: I repressed my sexuality all throughout it, tried to go the whole "straight route," and I even turned my back on my closeted friend from high school when he came out to me later in college. I thought he might be trying to get me to come out, too.

So I lived in a frat house, "dated" girls, and even had sex with two women. But not very successfully. And that just turned me into a raging alcoholic. I would get super drunk at our parties, and that's how I would get out of sleeping with girls. Which is pretty sad to think about. My frat brothers even called me "Too drunk to f*ck!" But it never stopped me from getting drunk again!

Eventually I moved to Orlando, FL because I knew I couldn't come out in my small hometown. And there I started going to a straight club on Thursday nights, their "Bad Disco" -- aka gay -- night. And once I started going alone, I remember being cruised and cruising men for the first time, and it started to feel validating

When I got that attention, it was the first time I actually had another man look at me, as if they liked me. Which most straight peers get to experience in high school. So because I had no male sexual contact with anyone in high school or college, I was like a kid in a candy shop!

Then in the 90's, I remember racking up big bills on pay phone-sex lines that were big back then. I had a bit of a sexual addiction and was having phone sex with random strangers from all over the country. One of my phone sex regulars even met me in person, but I turned him down. His reality just didn't match my fantasy.

Because I was playing so much those first few years of coming out, I did some pretty reckless things. A cop even caught me making out with a guy in a car. That was scary, but thankfully he was cool about it.

After awhile, I started feeling kind of angry about being gay and coming out. I felt like I was wasting so much time trying to find sex, which was never even that great.

And I blamed all my energy trying to get laid as even more internalized homophobia. But, all of that did kind of inspire my creative genes as an artist.

So I took all that angst and used it for inspiration, and sculpted of some of my most powerful art pieces. Which is another story, for another day.

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Doug

Doug, age 3
Pacific Palisades, California (1952)

In the 6th grade, I found myself looking at my classmate Steven, and thinking about his cute butt. This frightened me, because I knew I should only have those thoughts and feelings about girls. I had been told that homosexuals were 'alcoholics who have sex in alleys,' and they were 'filthy, amoral individuals who should be condemned,'  and not even pitied. And, that they ended up in jail.

At age 17, I had a crush on one of my best friends which I only later expressed by mail when we went to colleges on opposite ends of the country. 

He eventually stopped responding to my letters.

During my college years, I had romantic relationships with two girls and was attracted to several others

I really wanted to have a girlfriend and eventually be married. However, I was only physically attracted to my male classmates.

I was determined not to be gay, but I couldn't deny my feelings.

During my 20's, my pattern was to develop close, non-physical friendships with my male friends, and after many months, pursue a physical relationship.
While they rejected those advances, not one of them rejected me as a friend.

During the early to mid 70's, gay support groups began to develop on college campuses. I hung around one outside once, but I never went in. My eventual first physical relationship was with a male I had known for 12 months and for whom I was an "experiment" gone awry. Meaning: being gay wasn't for him.

At age 30, I was up late with an older woman I worked for who was attempting to seduce me. Getting tired of the charade, she finally blurted out:

'You're another faggot, aren't you?!'  And I said, "I guess so."

I eventually lost 60 pounds, got fit, cut my long, 60's-style hair, and decided to look for men whom I knew were already gay. Duh, lightbulb moment! My first gay night out started at bars in the Los Angeles area: The Rawhide, Woody's Hyperion, The Apache, and The Eagle. When I walked into The Rawhide, I knew that I was finally where I belonged. Actual tears of joy!

Next was coming out to my three sisters and parents. I made an appointment at my father's office to have "the conversation." He started by saying, 'Your older sister married that horse's ass we told her not to marry. And now they're divorced, and she's living with a man who is ten years younger than her!'

I only wanted to tell him that I'm gay, but he launched-forth again, saying:
 'And your younger sister is dating a damn Mexican!' As he looked appalled.

He then asked me, 'So, Doug, what did you want to talk about?'
I wanted to say, "Dad, you ain't heard nothin' yet!" but I didn't.

I waited a week to tell him. I think he already knew but didn't want to face the inevitable. He asked me, 'Is this something you want to do or something you feel compelled to do?'  I just said, "Both." His face filled with disappointment and resignation, and he asked: 'Is there anything I can do to help?'

Both my parents were accepting of me, but just barely.

I spent 20 years of my life rejecting my true self -- what a waste. If I had it to do all over again, I would have started in high school to develop positive, physical relationships with male friends, instead of avoiding my true feelings.

Of course, that's much easier today than it was in the mid-60's.
My advice is for the LGBTQ youth of today is trite, but true: be your true self.
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Candace

Candace, age 3
Panama City, Florida (1970)

I don't remember who owned this motorcycle in my photo.
But I do remember that if my brother thought it was cool, well - so did I!

This little tomboy was raised in a Southern Baptist home in northern Florida, and I was taught forgiveness and to love your neighbor as yourself. I was what you would call "all in" and I was very involved with the church as a young girl.

Since no one in my life ever discussed gay people and I was taught "Christian love," I was completely unprepared for the total rejection I received from my church and family when I came out. 

Today, I still consider myself a recovering Southern Baptist.

Yes, 2017 is a world away the 1980's. But figuring out who you are is difficult for any kid, especially for GLBTQ youth living in a far right, Christian home.

While I had little support from my family I did find support from the GLBTQ community. That "family" saved me. 

So to all GLBTQ youth: You are loved!
And to the families of these kids: Love them, period!    
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Tony

Tony, age 6
Natchez, Mississippi (1973)

I'm on the left in my photo, with my little brother. I grew up in the deep south in a very Christian town. Although we moved around a lot, we always ended up back in Natchez. I knew I was gay as far back as I can remember. I didn't know the term "gay" but I knew I enjoyed being around other boys my age.

I would stay at my grandmother's house a lot, which was the best place in the world to me. My grandmother had 5 daughters and she kept all of their things in what was called the 'toy room.'

I was always dressing up in my aunt's prom dress with all of its pink tulle and fluff, wearing her platform clogs and painting my nails with magic markers.

I loved playing with Barbies and their 70's play sets. I was always putting Barbie and her friends in different hairdo's and fancy dresses, because they were always going to fancy parties. And not just one party, but several a day. Every few minutes they had to run home for a complete makeover for the next party.

And my Miss Piggy puppet was the best thing in my world!!! She and I were inseparable. I would give her amazing hairstyles and make outfits for her.

I also remember sitting on the shag carpet in our living room, watching something on TV by myself. It must have had mermaids in it, because I rolled myself up in a blanket - and I was a instant mermaid!

I remember my mom walking in, and asking me what I was doing.
I said, "I'm a mermaid!!!"

Well, that didn't sit well with my mother. And I didn't understand why she gave me such a weird look after I said I was a mermaid.

Around 8 years old, I remember having a crush on a boy in my class that I thought the world of. I even remember his name -- Billy. I would stare at him in class wondering what it would be like to hold hands and kiss him.

As I got older, things got pretty bad. Kids in Jr. High knew I was different, even though I tried to hide being gay. But the other kids knew. I was always being threatened to be beaten up on a daily basis, to the point I would break out in hives on my wrists everyday before school.

It wasn't any better at home. My father was a sociopath and was extremely mentally abusive. My mom was so busy dealing with him that she only found relief in her Pentecostal church, where I was told I was going to hell for being gay. And those kids at church were more evil than the kids at school!

Looking back, my fondest memories are about my grandmother and her amazing amount of love, because she allowed me to be me without judgement.

That was the world I had at her house, and I'm eternally grateful to her for that.

I do have a happy ending, though. As a young adult, I met a guy in town and I fell in love. And as soon as I turned 18 we moved to Atlanta, Georgia.

Today, I live in Los Angeles and have made my truest home here.
I love my life now and wouldn't change it for anybody else's life!!!
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Norn

Norn, age 6
St. Petersburg, Florida (1975)

It was October 1975, and my my mom dressed my little sister and I up as "hookers" for Halloween. "Hookers" was a sure laugh-riot for any occasion,
but I wonder now what we thought "hookers" were?

I remember mom instructed us to "Swing your purse a lot!"

My mom also used to dress me up as Shirley Temple, Tina Turner, Cher, or Gilda Radner and have me perform for her friends during their cocktail hour. Wigs, dresses, heels, etc. They would HOWL with laughter as I camped it up, and I LOVED getting laughs!

But as I got older, and dressed in drag by my own choice, my mom grew more alarmed. Suddenly this thing that I was rewarded for, the thing that got me attention, I was now being punished for.

I'll just turned 47, and that betrayal still feels raw... Though I hadn't even thought of that until I found this photo.

But today, I still wear whatever I want and I still love to get laughs!
And my art and illustrations feature and salute many of the ladies I love.
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Jeff

Jeff, age 7

Chestertown, Maryland (1970)

I grew up in a small college town surrounded by corn fields and dairy farms. 
If you threw Colonial Williamsburg, Mayberry RFD, Norman Rockwell and "Deliverance" into a blender, you'd end up with Kent County, Maryland. Every year there was a Halloween Parade and most of the kids from town would dress up in their in costumes and follow behind the high school marching band. 

I really don't remember wearing this uniform (but I did like playing with GI Joe dolls and my friend Gretchen's Barbies too), so maybe my parents were probably trying to butch me up a bit? But as you can see, my queerness overwhelmed the intended machismo of the uniform. Nowadays I have a bit of a uniform fetish, so maybe this is where it all began?!

My home town, though quaint as hell, was sometimes a scary place for a young gay boy to grow up. Most of the kids in school were nice to me, but a handful of jocks made my life miserable from Jr. High all the way through High School. 

I can remember being call homo, queer and fag and being puzzled why they were calling me these names. When I was 11, we were square dancing in gym class and one of the jocks told me that I was dancing like a fag. I was upset that, once again, I was being called a fag. And so I asked myself, 'What is a fag?'  

The gay rights movement was all over the TV news at the time and I remember seeing a shot of two men kissing in the streets. As I was doing a dosy doe to some corny country song, the image of two men kissing was making me very excited. That's the exact moment that I realized that I was gay!

It would take another 8 years before I would finally comes to terms with my sexuality, but it was at 11 that it became pretty clear to me why I had crushes on some of the guys at school.

Once I was safely cloistered away in Art School in Baltimore, it was much easier for me to meet guys and figure out just who I was. Living in major cities like New York, Chicago, San Francisco and Los Angeles gave me the freedom to live an openly gay life, decades before we became a part of mainstream culture. 

As the years past, I became interested in gay history and learning about what it was like for earlier generations of gays and lesbians. In the 1980's, while shopping at antique shows and flea markets, I began collecting vintage photos of men hugging or holding hands. This ultimately inspired me to create my website Homo History, which re-appropriates vintage found photos of same sex couples, who may or may not have actually been lovers. 

What started first as a hobby and a personal collection ended up becoming a popular gay history website with over 3 million page views! To this day, I continue to add to my personal collection of vintage photos.

And I'm very happy to be able to share this vintage photo of the little gay boy that I once was.

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Hartson

Hartson, age 10

Paducah, Kentucky (1976)

I think this photo of me just about sums it ALL up!!! ;)

I always liked being an entertainer, and in 1976 I also learned to play the flute. 

Later during Middle & High school years while in the marching band and playing in parades, my "friends" would yell out, "Play that skin flute!" 

Something tells me they knew I did. And very well!

Growing up in a mid-sized city had its drawbacks, but I think it made me into a great person. 

Now at age 49, I look back and remember all the fun stuff, not the crappy stuff. 

So that's my advice to LGBTQ kids reading my story today: 

Just enjoy life!!!

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Ray

Ray, age 11
Villa Park, Illinois (1970)

I was about age 11 in this photo of me and my siblings on vacation. It's hard to believe, but there is three years between me and my older sister on the right. And the rest of us are only one year apart!

As for me, I grew up very fast. And I always knew I was gay. But looking back at this pic, I don't understand how it was a shock to my parents when I came out.

My siblings knew I was gay right from the start. When I told my parents, they were very accepting to me and my friends. All in all, life was good. 

That was so long ago, that in this day and age, it just breaks my heart how some parents can just toss their kids out of their lives for being gay. 

We've come such a long way, but we still have a long way to go. 

Today, I'm 56 years old and living a wonderful life in fabulous Las Vegas. 

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Christopher

Christopher, age 8

Sulligent, Alabama (1979)

Clearly as displayed in my photo, I already knew how to descend a staircase with flair while holding a cocktail. Even though that’s probably just a Pepsi...

But as one might imagine, growing up in rural Alabama was challenging for me. 

I certainly wasn’t like all the other kids, and because of that I was an easy target for name-calling and bullying - of which there was plenty. And, of course, I had to remain “closeted” until I left home. Even though everyone knew that I was as gay as a Christmas goose, it simply wasn’t discussed.  

One particular Sunday evening when I was only about 3-years old, Miss Christine was visiting during our family's weekly "visit" gatherings, which meant lots of gossip. She was one of our town’s hairdressers who sported a bouffant so high it was in danger of being caught in our ceiling fan. She was always very smartly dressed, with impeccably polished nails and perfect hair. 

I was fascinated with Miss Christine. She was like a real-life Dolly Parton - minus the huge tits and rhinestones - right there in my living room. However, even the snappiest dressers can drop the ball, and one Sunday evening I went over to Miss Christine, crawled into her lap, looked her straight in the eye and said - keep in mind, I wasn’t yet four years old:

'Miss Christine, you look real pretty...

But your purse and your shoes don’t match.'

Let's just say it was the first time I made a room fall apart!

Once I got to college in the larger city of Birmingham, I began to realize there was a great big world outside of my small hometown. And I finally was able to start becoming the person I was meant to be, in all my glitter-encrusted glory.

I launched a successful career as a professional dancer and choreographer, traveling all over the U.S. with musicals and working with some of the greatest pros in show business. I have had the good fortune to live in New York, San Francisco, and now currently Los Angeles. And I’m blessed to share a gorgeous home with my amazing husband and our two cats. 

Currently, I “co-exist” with the “showgirl, chanteuse, and Southern belle” Poppy Fields and perform as one-half of the cabaret act “Mack & Poppy.”

It does indeed “get better” - but here’s the catch: You have to make it get better, and realize that there are always hardships, always tests, and always people who will hurl insults your way - even when you’re an adult.  

You learn, though, to remember that the ones who take issue with you and/or your sexuality are insignificant, and those who are truly meant to be part of your life, or are important in your life, don’t give a damn who you love.

All-in-all, it’s been an amazing ride and great life, and it’s still going strong. 

And I sure learned a lot from those “steel magnolias” that surrounded me as a child; and I know that wherever she is now, Miss Christine would be pleased that my purse and my shoes always match!

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Dennis

Dennis, age 6

Portland, Oregon (1978)

"Once upon a time, there was one little boy who went to a car show..."
Specifically, it was the "World Of Wheels"1978 car show, and I'd spent weeks begging my parents to take me to the show!

My dad was thrilled, as I'm sure he believed that his son had actually developed an interest in cars. The same son who played with dolls, whose favorite comic books were "Supergirl" and "Wonder Woman" and who insisted on getting a "Dorothy Hamill haircut."

You can see the compromise we ended up with in the picture.  

Of course, my dad had no idea that the REAL reason I wanted to go was that Laurette Spang from "Battlestar Galactica" was going to be there. And there she is with me in my photo! 

She was one of my favorite people on the show. 
Of course, I had no idea her character was a professional escort.

I didn't know what being "gay" meant before 1978, because I'd never been told the term by my parents. I knew I was "different" from the other guys because whenever I (regretfully) found myself grouped with the boys, I was so bored by the things they loved: sports, cars, sports, trucks, sports, boats, sports. Yawn. Whenever I had the chance, I preferred socializing with girls, who were SO much more intellectual and interesting.

However, in 1978 an older neighbor guy moved in next door and I developed a massive crush on him, to the point where I was actually writing out his name in a notebook over and over like you see in bad TV movies. I never acted on my dreamy-eyed crush, but I was dimly aware somewhere in my brain that things would be bad if ANYONE found out about my feelings - including him.

I never  suffered any real abuse for being gay in my early life because I was always "the weird kid" who was viewed as super-intelligent with odd interests, like obscure horror movies and sci-fi shows from other countries.  

That all changed in high school, though. In my first year, my parents sent me to a private, religious all-boys' school and it was a living hell every single day. I was miserable, and I barely attended classes because I always felt sick and scared.  

I was failing all my classes and there were even days where the priest-teachers would spend hours explaining to us all why people like ME were awful monsters. They even instructed the other students to identify suspected gay kids for treatment and counseling because such a "gross" life needed to be "corrected."

Fortunately, I got myself into a public school, then a good liberal college where I could express myself and be who I really was. And I haven't looked back since.

Coming out was a weird sort of non-event. I had attended a Gay Pride parade during college and my folks saw me on TV. They asked me why I was there and I confirmed it. Then they simply ignored it, and acted as though it didn't happen. To this day, they talk to me like I'm straight, so I've simply decided I'm not going to make myself suffer for their denial of reality.

Today, I work in an excellent government job with a very tolerant environment where differences are encouraged. I have a terrific life and think of myself as being truly lucky to have gotten where I am today. Without those early experiences, I wouldn't be where I am now.  

My message to gay youth today is:

No matter how painful an experience is, remember it's your decision every time how you react to it. EVERY decision you make helps turn you into who you will be in the future. I turned out great despite all the adversity and I enjoy a great life of success now.  

So, please, PLEASE turn your agonies into strengths, and your sorrows into the foundation of your character in handling tough times.

And when all else fails, find joy in just being fabulous!

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Felix

Felix, age 7

Los Angeles, CA (1977)

My childhood consisted of lots of church. I was raised in a conservative, fundamentalist Christian home. My family’s circle consisted of members from our own religious affiliation. And our family vacations were just trips to attend church conventions. Television and dancing were not allowed in our home. 

As a teen my parents’ TV ban relaxed, and I was introduced to pop culture icons like “Wonder Woman,” Donna Summer, and "H.R. Puffnstuff."

TV revealed entertainment that a boy like me was naturally inclined to enjoy. My male cousins watched sports and wrestling, which I found boring and stupid. 

I attended 8 different schools because we kept moving. The changing of schools always left me with a feeling of being different, odd and left-out.

Adding to my dilemma, I was terrible at sports and was always chosen last for teams. 

Later, I came to the realization that my out-of-place feelings were not because I was the new kid or because I lacked skills for sports. But rather, because I was gay, effeminate, and everyone could see it.

Childhood was not easy, especially hearing awful insults at school. But then to also be in the house of God and hear the same messages made my life feel worthless and insignificant.

I did excel in academics and that opened a way out of my sheltered upbringing.
I was able to attend and live on-campus during my college years. During those years, I did a lot of self-discovery and learned about self-esteem. 

Today, I attend the Metropolitan Community church,  and I've met many friends with a similar upbringing. And I finally feel like I found my own tribe!

Recently, I re-visited a favorite childhood movie: “H.R. Puffnstuff” from 1969. Mama Cass Elliott sings a song called “Different.”  

And I realized she was singing about me!
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Tommy

Tommy, age 2

San Jose, California (1975)

My mother tells me the staff at the Sears portrait studio were so impressed with this photo of me, that they wanted to hang it on their wall in the lobby. 

"What does the T stand for? Is it Tammy?" they said. "No," my mother corrected. "More like Tommy." This was my first reported instance of an occasion that would become a regular theme in my life.

I was 2-years old and people were already doing double-takes while apologizing under their breath for misidentifying my gender. "He’s pretty - for a boy” was the first of the backhanded compliments I was poised to receive as I got older.

As  a kid, it used to bother me that I was often mistaken for a girl, and my easily mortified teenage self suffered accordingly. Because people didn’t quite know how to categorize me by sight, I learned to transcend polarization. 

I understood early that gender was a social construction that was completely malleable. I felt the need to refrain from conforming to the gender biases of popular culture and to create my own. 

If I liked a shirt in the girl’s department and it fit me, I wasn’t stymied by the fact that it buttoned up the opposite side. I learned how to bridge the gap between my yin and yang. 

I trace the early understanding of gender politics I had to this photo.
T was for Tommy but it was also for trans - as in transcending transgender. 

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Austin

Austin, age 4
Novato, California (1978)

“Mom, what is gay?” That’s what left my lips one day when I returned home from kindergarten. After having been called it over and over, I kinda wanted to know what it meant. Mom did what she’s done my entire life - she told me the truth. No judgment. No shame. Just truth.

Even though I had no idea what sexual orientation was, 

I knew this much: I wasn’t going to be something people saw as different, even if I was. 

And I spent the next 20 years living up to my misguided commitment.

Through all of the bullying, teasing, hurt, and loneliness,  I fooled myself into believing if I didn’t acknowledge being gay, it wasn’t real. 

I remember looking at Ricky Schroeder on "Silver Spoons" and thinking:

"I think I ‘like’ him. But only gay boys ‘like’ other boys, so I’ll just not like him."

And I never watched "Silver Spoons" again. It was all too real. 

The only one I was fooling was myself. As was evidenced when I began my coming out at age 25. That process was both wonderful and frustrating. I didn’t have one negative reaction to my coming out, which was such a relief.

What I found frustrating was this: when you finally make the agonizing decision to come out, you want a certain kind of “TA-DAH!” moment. Well, no one was surprised. It was more like a “Well, duh!” moment. Over. And over. And over. 

It was better than the alternative, but it took me some time to get comfortable in this “new” skin, the skin everyone was aware of but me. I had to get to know myself all over again. 

I’m still in the middle of that process. During the past 15 years, I’ve been the most destroyed and most overjoyed I’ve ever been. I consider my high-highs and low-lows evidence that I’m living a full life. I’ve loved. I’ve lost. I’ve grown. I’ve learned. 

My true passion is photography, and I’ve been fortunate enough to have really beautiful subjects in front of my lens, both inanimate and human alike. I’m so proud of who I am, who I'm surrounded by, and the man I continue to become. 

As I look at this picture now, I see exactly what I want to see:
A carefree, flamboyant young boy just living in the moment. 

If I could go back and talk to my 4 year-old self, I’d say nothing more than:

“Just be yourself, kiddo. It’s going to be a fabulous ride.”

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Mark

Mark, age 10
Rockland, Massachusetts (1971)

This gem of a photo is me with my sisters, Sue and Maureen - with their fabulous Carol Brady shag haircuts - jealous! I violated the 'prints and stripes' rule of fashion because I could not decide between my favorite shirt and favorite pants at the time. Of course, my older sister Maureen said, "They don’t match!"

I have tried to pinpoint when I knew I was gay, but it's lost in a clutter of memories. Some go back to when I was around age five taking a bath, when my older brothers needed to pee standing at the toilet. Even then it was all I could do not to peek, and I remember being chastised for getting caught trying to look.

I was always concerned about my appearance and loved my stylish clothes, especially if I could convince my mother to buy me what I wanted rather than what she wanted. I usually got one or two choice "pieces" each year. And all my lime green, zip mock turtlenecks and purple paisley dress shirts stood out like a vintage fashion show in our family photos.

I was taunted and teased for being a sissy and faggot for most of my childhood. But I had a wonderful support system at home, with loving parents and sisters who ignored my uniqueness and who loved me for being me.

My mother was always supportive. Always. While my father would cast a disapproving eye most of the time, he never ever said anything that made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

I came out formally to my parents when I was 21, but it was a non news event since they knew I was born this way. Today, my sisters are still my best friends.

When I see kids today that remind me of me at that age, I always let them know
I think they are fabulous and fierce and to keep up the good work. I had a few adults who encouraged me like that, and thinking back I can still remember those few kind words of support.

 40 years later, that kind of encouragement still makes a big difference.
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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Michelle

Michelle, age 4 

Flamborough, N. Yorkshire, England (1971)

I'm pictured on the right with my sister Louise. This photo was taken a few months after I'd chopped the left hand side of my hair off. It was really long and I wanted it short! My father said a big fat "No!" to that idea, as he preferred girls to have long hair.

So at the age of 4 I took matters into my own hands and cut it. I stood on a chair at the kitchen sink and proceeded to cut away, only to be discovered by my mum!

As she walked in I was trying to wash the evidence down the sink, as if it wasn't obvious! So my mum decided all she could do was to cut more to even it all up.


Then my father walked in. And oh my God, he went ballistic and thought mum was the one who'd initiated said chopping.

I hasten to add that I had to wait another 12 years before I got my way and had it cut lovely and short, and not looking like some strange bob cut.

Even at age 4 I preferred boys' toys, wanting short hair, climbing trees, and when I had the chance, wearing trousers. My parents never stopped me in those activities, and they even made me a fort with painted toy solders to go with it. 

I even remember fetching some dolls to bring to school so my friend Steve could play with them. And Steve would fetch his big red truck for me to play with. 

So I guess he was my first gay friend. Sadly, I changed schools and we lost touch. 
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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Ross

Ross, age 4 
Chester Springs, Pennsylvania (1974)

The outfit I'm wearing here is a credit to my mom. She had panache with a sewing machine and would dress my sister and me in coordinated outfits.

Even as a toddler, I had a penchant for flashy clothes (and occasionally, dresses), dolls, and crying during broadcasts of “The Wizard of Oz.”

I also pantomimed selections from my favorite Rosemary Clooney children’s album. These were habits my mom was more tolerant of than my dad.

I didn’t exactly get free reign, but my parents rarely scolded me for my gender non-conformity. And I never felt “different” from the other kids until I was much older.

I mostly taught myself to conform to what boys were supposed to be like and, later in middle school, to suppress my feelings in an attempt to fit in.

It wasn’t until I was in my 20's that I began to accept myself.
And even then, it took a lot of effort to relax and be authentic.

Today, as a 40-something, this little guy’s wide-open enthusiasm is an inspiration to me. I want to be just like him.
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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Mió

Mió, age 12 
Gammelstad, Sweden 1977

I grew up in the north of Sweden, in a little town where the sun doesn't shine in the winter and shines brightly all during summer.

I always knew that there was something "different" about me. But little did I know that in the future it would bring about this gay and wonderful life.

A tough part growing up is that my parents were VERY religious. And sometimes that felt like a curse from the dark side.

I didn't have many friends growing up, but I had one special one. It was Peter, my first love. He had moved to our town and was in my class. It was love at first sight, before I knew how love would actually feel.

To this day, I remember every little thing about him:
His blue eyes, the blond hair, and his wonderful dimples.

Today, I'm married to a wonderful husband, with three lovely children and a beautiful life. I wouldn't change my childhood, this black-grey-sepia-period of mine. Somehow it formed me and shaped me into the person I am today.

Mom, you always knew - even if you bit the pillow when my little sister turned out to be a lesbian. Dad, you never knew - even when you found me in bed with another man! So here I am, and here YOU are - born perfect in the eyes of God!
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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Dane

Dane, age 10
Grosse Pointe, Michigan (1974)

This was me Trick or Treating with my mummy mask in hand. I wanted to go dressed as The Boy Wonder - I had a huge crush on Robin! - but my dad didn't want me parading around the neighborhood in green underwear.

At age 10, I also had a crush on my brother's friend, Bruce. He had blond hair and looked like a surfer.

My mom had a luncheon one day and was telling the other moms how handsome Bruce was, and that he was going to break some little girl's hearts.

And I chimed in:
"Yes, and some boy's hearts, too!"

I was really boy crazy when I turned 14.

My mom was giving me driving lessons one day and let me hold the wheel, and we spotted the high school track team running shirtless. As I drove our station wagon up, over the curb,  my mom exclaimed, "Golly!"


And high school was really hard for me. I would come home and my mom would ask me, "How was school today?" What was I supposed to say: "Great, mom!
I was called a fag 50 times today, thrown into the mud, and somebody taped a Polaroid of their genitalia on my locker."

It wasn't until I was 19 that I had sex with a guy. And I'm not lying: he was wearing green underwear! His name wasn't Robin, but still -- Whoo-hoo!

Today, I'm married. And my husband and I have been together for 14 years.
He's amazing, funny, and cute. Thus, see - it does get better!

You can read more on my experiences growing up gay in the 70's here in a
mini-comic I created entitled "Raw Hamburger."
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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Joey

Joey, age 7
Bell Gardens, California (1973)

As a young boy I knew I was different, but never really knew how or why.

In the 4th grade there was a boy named Steve in my class. He was much tougher than me and walked me home every single day that year.

I'm not sure if he walked me home to protect me or did that because he knew I was different.

Or, if he felt different too and felt some kind of unity in our daily walk.

It took me 27 years to come out as a gay man. I had a teenage girlfriend and married my ex-wife at the age of 23. Could my life have been easier if I came out earlier on? That is a question I really can't answer.

Today I'm 46, and these are the happiest days of my life. I have a partner of six years and someday soon, will be able to say we are married. I also have a daughter who is 7 years old - around the same age that I was beginning to question why I felt different.

My coming out as a gay man has let me express my true self, create the family I have always wanted, and find the peace and joy that this 7 year old boy was always looking for.
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  Click - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Also check out "Click - My First Gay Crush Blog"

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