James

James, age 3
Madison, Wisconsin (1993)

Five years after this photo, when I was age 8, Joss Whedon ruined my life.

You see, I wasn't always a drag queen. Okay maybe I was. But there's still a possibility that I might have ended up a lawyer or a UFC fighter.

You see, I was once a young, well behaved Catholic school boy. But then I watched "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" - the movie, not the TV series - but that also proved to be quite influential. The film starred Kristy Swanson and Luke Perry (the world's oldest high schooler, but boy was he dreamy). I watched it constantly, wearing out the VHS tape my parents ripped off HBO.

I remember Kristy gets harassed by David Arquette, who takes a hot dog off of Kristy’s plate and holds it to her crotch and asks: “Buffy are you hungry?”

And she slices it clean off with a butter knife!

Well, I decided wouldn't it be hilarious to do the same thing to my friend Connor at lunch one day. I took the offending frankfurter out of its bun and presented it to him aside my crotch and quoted David Arquette word for word, a performance I think even he would of been proud of.

Needless to say this, didn't win me any People’s Choice Awards.

Nope, I got thrown into the principal's office, and got a weekly visit to the school psychologist - for making a joke? Sure it was crass and bluer than my usual material, but I was just an up and coming comedian. Right?

But this incident led to the first crack in the foundation of my childhood innocence. See, I was always a tad odd, but in my own way, I felt I was charming. Sure, nobody played with me at recess - but that's because I didn't play sports. Sure, nobody came to my birthday parties - but that's because every February 19th a plague hit my class.

And suddenly, I was now "Weird James" at school.

I was James the weird kid for years, up until the weird started to bleed over into the queer. It starts with the tingly feeling you get when you see Jerry O'Connell as the hotter brother in "Sliders" then as the dreamy boyfriend in "Scream 2" and by the time I got to Jerry O'Connell in "Tomcats" — I was GAY!

I've been beaten up, chased home, and had things thrown at me. Taking the school bus filled me with dread. I was late to school for 6 months because I was afraid to stand at the school bus stop. It's impossible for me to write a coming out story since I've kinda always been out. I just didn't know it.

By the time high school rolled around, I decided it was time to drop the facade and I came out at age 16. Like all of us, I was gayer, more louder, and draped in as much attention grabbing rainbow as I could find at your local Spencer's gifts. I was proud, and for the first time in my life, I felt unsinkable.

But it took me a long time to learn what "finding my tribe" means. I went through a long period of finding friendship with other outcasts who needed companionship. And I also found the true power of being different.

My message to queer kids today is: being gay is a beautiful thing, and it's a gift.

It's a free pass to be the most interesting person in a group - unless of course someone in that group is a pro wrestler or a trapeze artist, then they are the most interesting person. But I'm sure they couldn't sing a Donna Summer medley worth a shit.

In closing, I'd like to contact anyone with even the closest six degree of separation from Joss Whedon, to let them know the damage has been done!

_____________________________________________________

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Ryan

Ryan, age 8,
Quezon City, Philippines (1990)

I grew up a poor, black child....oh wait. Wrong story! :) Growing up in the Philippines, being a flamboyant young boy wasn't an issue. And luckily, I grew up with not only my family's support, but also the support of my friends. 

The topic of sexuality and being gay was not yet discussed at that time. 
But what I know is that everyone saw that I was happy, and they let me be me.

And I do remember when I was age 11, I told my parents I was going to the neighborhood fiesta. I left the house in a white T-shirt and cut off denim shorts and my "tsinelas" - they are also known as flip flops. I joined the masses to enjoy the festival until I heard a popular song being played in a distance.

I walked over to see what was happening. A crowd had gathered to where the song was playing, and I saw a few girls dancing in formation to the beat.

The song was called “Aringkingkingking" - and I have no idea what that means! But in a quick instance, without even a thought, I tied a knot on my white
T-shirt, just above my left hip to bare my mid-drift, and I joined the dance.

I copied every step, every move, and every flare. I was happy and overjoyed, especially when the crowd erupted in cheers and applause!

This story has nothing to do with my picture here, but I thought it was a perfect memory to share. However, I DO think this picture perfectly sums up me, my fashion sense, and my ability to coordinate clothing at an early age.

I mean, only us — those who are a little different, a little or a lot gay — can put together prints serving a BATMAN look, and know the world can't tell you SHIT — because you OWN it!

Of course, when asked to pose - even as a young child - there was always a little sass and a little flirt in my pictures. This image couldn't be anymore ME, and proves that I was BORN THIS WAY!
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Kelly

Kelly, age 9
Cordell, Oklahoma (1986)

I was born n' raised in a small rural town in Oklahoma. My Daddy was the high school football coach, my brother was the all-star athlete, and my uncle (my Dad's older brother) is Mickey Mantle of the New York Yankees. No big deal, he's just mentioned right up there with Uncle Sam, apple pie, and Jesus Christ.

And then there was ME!

Townsfolk would ask, "Kelly...you gonna grow up and be a famous baseball player like your Uncle Mickey?”

'No,' I'd say. 'When I grow up, I'm gonna be a black soul singer just like Diana Ross.' 

Because one is just about as likely as the other.

The only thing Uncle Mickey and I had in common was switch-hitting!

As a kid, I used to dress up in Grandma's clothes and play Dolly Parton songs on my lil' geetar.

And they had no clue what the hell was happening!

But regardless, I was blessed with parents who always encouraged me to embrace my differences and “eccentricities.” They accepted me as every parent should for their child! Bless their wrinkled little hearts.

And as you can see in this picture, I LOVED being a little girly-boy. I think I had just told Santa that I wanted a Barbie, a boy, and some boobies! It made him very uncomfortable, and I didn't understand why. Because I loved being different than my peers, and I wasn't ashamed to be me.

That's a true testament to my upbringing.

But, like most of us, I had my fair share of getting bullied from time to time. Usually from kids from other schools at out-of-town events. Their favorite taunt was always "Are you a boyyyy or a girrrrl?" And I'd say 'Both!' Like it was a bad thing? I never could figure that out. Who wouldn't wanna be both?

Luckily, because of our LGBTQ pioneers that came before me, we now have terminology that kids can use today. In my case, it would be "gender-fluid."
Or as I prefer, "two-spirit" because after all I AM a Cherokee Native American Poke-A-Hot-Ass from Oklahomo.

So when I look at this picture of me and Santa, that's who I see — a late blooming two-spirited little gender-fluid kid, almost too comfortable in my own skin — but unsure how to explain it to others. Yet, never afraid to show it or be it, and most importantly — never once told to hide it.

And that would be my Christmas wish to Santa today — for every little boy and girl and in-between to be given the freedom to be in love with yourself exactly as you are! And to realize that when another person tries to hurt you, they're actually the one who's hurting.

Because people who love themselves, don't hurt others.
So don't ever let anyone change who you were born to be.

I’m Kelly Mantle, and I was BORN THIS WAY!
______________________________________________________

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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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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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Byron

Byron, age 3

Arroyo Grande, California (1969)

I ran across this picture in a box of photographs. I don't even remember taking it. My mother used to like to dress me up and I was a bit of a mama's boy. 

My parents had some inkling I may have been gay and I was told that I was taken in for tests. All I could imagine was a doctor holding up paint swatches,
or pictures of accessories, asking me: "Do these shoes go with this purse?"

As I was a small kid, school was rough. Grade school wasn't that bad, but once I got to high school, it became worse. I was thrown in many a trash can, had food dumped on me, and other kids would scream names at me. So I spent a lot of time in the theatre - aka the cafetorium - and made it my safe place.  

I remember riding my bike home one day when this group of kids ambushed me and threw large cement nails at me, hitting me in the face and head. Or the ones who surrounded me and pulled out a switchblade. Thankfully, a friend pulled up in his car and saved my life.

Everyone basically knew I was gay, so coming out was kind of pointless. When I came out to my mom, she made me sweat through the entire process. After going through that agonizing moment, she just laughed and said they had known my whole life. I thought it would bring us closer together, but it didn't. 

However, my father has been my true hero through it all. It was on July 17, 1986 when he said he was proud of me.  I wrote it on may calendar.

Later I went to a performing arts college, so I felt totally comfortable. I remember the moment I made it clear to the wig mistress. She asked if I was straight, and the world just stopped and went into super slow motion. It felt like an eternity before I said, 'No, I'm gay' and she didn't even miss a beat.

I'm now 47 and have been with my husband for 17 years. I also have a successful career doing wigs and makeup for live theatre, and I don't take shit from anyone.

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AJ

AJ, ages 5-7
Battle Creek, Michigan (1996-1998)

Growing up, Halloween was always my favorite holiday. This hasn't changed much since I was young, but now I look back on my love for the holiday in a much different light. I think it was the attraction of stepping into the skin of someone who wasn't me that spawned my interest. This lead to me dressing as multiple women during my childhood.

Having been reared on nearly every Disney movie, I was immediately drawn to the female villains. These women were not merely evil (something that I was not), but they were supremely confident in who they were (something I also was not). But above all else, they were interesting.

You can leave your princesses behind, and give me an evil queen any day!

I lived for the time of year when I felt confident enough to dress up as one of these powerful women. In hindsight, I give tremendous appreciation to my parents for allowing me to dress in this way year after year.

We live in a time when something like this can go viral on the internet if given enough traction. I can only imagine it was much more taboo in the mid 1990's.

However, my parents never batted an eye at it, and I think the pictures show that my mother had a fun time herself putting the ensembles together.

It wouldn't be until over a decade later that I managed to find the courage within myself to come out of the closet. Yet I can't help but wonder how surprised my parents must have been, if they were surprised at all.

Although it took time, I feel as if I've finally managed to grasp the confidence and power that made these women so interesting to me.

And for now, we can leave all the curses and spells behind...
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Henry

Henry, age 6

Birmingham, Alabama (1986)

This picture of me and my (also gay) twin brother Andy was taken at our grandmother's house. We would always fight over who got to wear the silky shirt. I'm on the right in the shirt, and Andy is on the left in the heels.

This picture and time of my life brings back great memories, because my grandparents didn't care about our differences. They just wanted us to be happy and to be ourselves.

We were both big fans of Care Bears and My Little Pony. 

My sister had an ET doll and Godzilla figure that would shoot its hand off. But Andy and I pretty much stuck to our stuffed animals and Rainbow Brite dolls.

Speaking of stuffed animals, I came out to my teddybear at 5.

But our older sister actually came out before we did, so she helped break our parents in. 

I like to say we all helped drag our parents kicking and screaming into the 21st century! LOL!

For younger gay kids reading this, I would like to tell them that I thank God every day I was born a homosexual. It has helped me to grow as an individual and learn so much more about myself at an early age.

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Sawyer

Sawyer, age 5
Boise, Idaho (1998)

I remember in kindergarten I'd bring my "Star Wars" toys to school and trade them with the girls for their Barbies. This is not to say that I didn't love "Star Wars." In fact, I loved it so much that I received duplicates of almost every toy available for birthday/Christmas gifts. And that made it possible for me to have a Mermaid Barbie with color-changing hair AND a Star Wars Disk Shooter!

When I'd spend a night at my grandma's house, she'd always let me safety pin a towel around my waist. Or wear one of my grandpa's t-shirts with a belt, as I liked the way it felt to spin in circles and have the fabric billow out.

My grandma was, in fact, the first person to inform me that gay people even existed.

One time, we were looking through a People Magazine and she told me the women in a photo were Rosie O'Donnell and her girlfriend.

I asked, 'Girlfriend? Like they're in love?' and grandma said "Yes" with a smile. That short conversation gave me the courage to get through high school and come out to my family soon after I graduated.

Honesty is the best policy, I say.
Today, I don’t hide myself anymore and people love me for it.

I still love to wear XL t-shirts around my apartment, because it reminds me of the ball gowns and red-carpet looks I used to work at my grandma’s house.
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Jared

Jared, age 4
Williamson, Georgia (1991) 

This photo is me doing what I'm told was one of my favorite activities, which was wearing a pair of my mom's sensible flats and pretending to vacuum the house.

Looking back on my photos, I have memories of doing lots of things that I would consider really flamboyant and telling. But at the time, I was just being me.

I started becoming aware of just how different I was when I started school at age 5, and I learned to tone it way down. Once I hit puberty, I really figured out what was going on. And I waited way too long to come out to my family, but I finally did it after I finished college.

With coming out, I have received nothing, NOTHING, but all the love and support of my parents, my brother, cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles - and even my recently-turned 99 great-grandmother. And all this from some small town Georgians, too!

Today, I am out, proud and loving life. And I'm engaged to the sweetest, best guy anyone could ever hope to meet, a happy fate I never believed would be mine.

Here I am, and I couldn't be happier! So my advice to those today is:
Just be yourself and great things will come your way.
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Roger

Roger, age 2
Galt, Ontario, Canada (1963)

Here I am at age 2 on the right, holding the hand of my little sister and best friend. We were inseparable. We played dolls and had little tea parties together. As we grew up we kept to ourselves as our four brothers hung out together.

Five years later we had another sister to play house with. All the while, my dad said "Something ain't right with that boy."

My oldest sister had a beautiful yellow and white dress that I absolutely adored! When I was six I pushed a chair to the closet, climbed up, and took down the dress.

I started to put it on when:
Oh no! The dress got stuck!
My arms were above my head, and I couldn't see and could hardly breathe!

I yelled for help and my mom came and pulled the dress from over my head.
She said, "What are you doing? Boys don't wear dresses!" After I was freed I heard my dad ask, "What is he, some kind of sissy?" 

I remember feeling embarrassment and shame. But mostly shame.

My parents started signing me up for sports teams and encouraging me to play with my brothers. That ought to "fix things," they thought. It worked for a while, and I was developing a more "boy-like" attitude and demeanor.

A couple of years later, my sister died. I was devastated and lost. I turned to the church, and my "feminine side" was on its way to being completely buried.

I eventually broke free and have slowly become the person I am now. I still like to wear blouses, skirts, stockings and panties. I feel very much at ease when doing so, but as soon as I put on a dress, I revert back to being that six year-old kid feeling fear, embarrassment, and shame.

But mostly shame...
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Ivan

Ivan, age 5
Saint-Petersburg, Russia (1988)

My photo shows me doing my first drag performance, as my silly 'Auntie Valya' who lost her reading glasses, while they were always on her forehead.

I was a truly gay kid while growing up, and I was a champion of arts and theater through my early school years.

But then puberty hit and my classmates no longer thought I was that fun to hang around with anymore.

In fact, the bullies tortured me for years on a daily basis. But I survived, and that still amazes me at times.

I eventually ran away from my home country of Russia to find freedom and safety in the USA.

At age 15, I died my hair red. Then green, blue, and pink.

I came out to my mom when I was only 16. Twelve years later, she is still struggling to accept my "life choices." We speak to each other now, but not often.

My father has never been around, and he left for good when I was 12. We never shared any bonds, and he always treated me as if I was some kind of some foreign exchange student living in his house.

I've struggled all these years to overcome anxiety and depression which stems directly from the years of bullying and living in a viciously homophobic Russia.

I have lived in the United States for 8 years now. I will become a citizen this year, provided everything gets done on time. Being gay is still a work in progress for me.

But I am doing better - and feeling better - than I have ever felt before.
_____________________________________________________

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Tami

Tami, age 9
Staten Island, New York (1995)

I remember the day this photo was taken. It was a rainy weekend and my little brother and I were having fun trying on my uncle's old work clothes. I know I was both embarrassed and proud when my mother pulled out the camera.
And the two emotions read simultaneously on my face.

It was right around this age when I was first called out as gay. I was in the 5th grade and a female friend and I were playing during a break between classes.

I turned around to find a pack of four boys behind me, with one of the more popular kids in the front. "You're a lesbian!" he said, as the other boys snickered.

I had no idea what he was talking about. Was that an insult?
Had I done something wrong?

I never looked quite like the other girls: I was heavy then and wore thick glasses, baggy t-shirts, and high-top sneakers to school.

Maybe that's what a lesbian was?

Trying not to look foolish, I shot back, 'Well... so are you!' The boys laughed and I realized that, once again, I had missed something in the social code.

I asked my mother what they had meant when I got home.
But I didn't get much help there either.
_____________________________________________________

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Lynn

Lynn, age 5
Clovis, New Mexico (1961)

Both my parents thought I was adorable, though not as much as I did. That's my dog Queenie is in this photo with me. I was in 2nd grade when I knew I was attracted to boys. His name was Butch and he had a sweet blonde flat top haircut, and was a little stocky. And I thought singer Bobby Sherman was dreamy!

By 7th grade I was teased about being queer by other kids. My parents (mainly my father) started having trouble with my lack of masculinity in Jr. High.

Not only was I gay, I was fat - the double curse.

I was horribly beaten in Physical Education class. Even the PE teacher called me a pansy! I had to pay them to stop, and I relentlessly tried getting out of going to the class.

My middle school years really beat me down.

At age 21, after 3 years at a fundamentalist Christian college, I came out. At age 22 I came out to my mother when I was in the hospital and on narcotics.

She had no idea and said:
'We mustn't tell your father. And who did this to you?'

She was sure that my being gay was her "fault."

I adore this photo and the sheer luxury I had to express myself. But that freedom was soon taken away and not rediscovered until many years later. Today, I am a very well respected psychiatric nurse practitioner and my life's work is to comfort people with challenging lives. Part of that includes supporting all kinds of people to be exactly who they are meant to be.

My message to young LGBTQ kids is to be patient.

Do all you can do to be your genuine self. The more truth you tell, the happier you will be. Who you are matters, and tell yourself that truth first.

No matter how trapped you may feel, it will get better. No man, woman, religious leader, politician, or teacher can define who you are. ONLY YOU define who you are. Be YOU and be proud, and keep a sense of humor.
_____________________________________________________

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Mark

Mark, age 7
Crawfordsville, Indiana (1971)

That's me pictured on the left. Need I say anything more???

I'm here with my little sister, as we had just returned from a Halloween celebration at the local mall.

And check this out: I won a transistor radio for "Best Costume!"

Am I convinced this positive reinforcement is responsible for my gayness?

Yes! :)

Though it was not my mom's intention at the time,
I lovingly refer to this picture as "Lady and The Tramp."
_____________________________________________________

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Frank

Frank, age 10
Patton, Pennsylvania (1976)

Well, I think we can safely say by the age of 10 I was OUT! This photo was taken by a photographer from my home town newspaper. My uncle actually owned the newspaper business and my mother worked in the dark room.

Needless to say, when my mother was developing the film that afternoon, she was in shock!

The photographer knew who I was under my granny's wig and red mint, lipstick toothpaste. And of course, my sister's square dancing dress. None other than her co-worker's son! She couldn't resist capturing this moment on film.

Now, as a family we all laugh about this particular Halloween evening. I guess you could say it was my first Gay Pride Parade!

Both of my parent's were gone for the evening and left my brother in charge of babysitting me.


He went out to play with his friends and I was left to my own accord. So this
"ladygirl boy trying to be queer" was my shining LGBTQ moment from the 70's.

 I am one of the lucky ones whose parents let me be myself, and who supported me as much as they could throughout my childhood.

My advice to everyone is to be who you are and don't deviate for anyone!
YOU are the BEST YOU there is!
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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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Noah

Noah, age 4
Portland, Maine (1992)

Even though I didn't realize it until I was in my first year of college, my parents knew I was gay when I was 3-years old.

On Christmas Day of 1991, my parents got my sister a dress and got me a tuxedo.

I burst out crying when both gifts were opened, because I wanted a dress like my sister's.

They returned the tux and bought me a dress instead. And I wore that thing, and my pink jelly sandals, until they both were worn out.

As you can see, I was still wearing them both during summer 1992, as seen in my photo.

So after all the Barbie dolls, putting on my sister's clothing, and dressing up as a bride in a wedding, I finally realized I was gay 15 years later.
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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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Steve

Steve, age 3
Waterford, Maine (1969)

I'm sitting here at our campsite on Papoose Pond, wearing my Indian headband with the pink feather in front like a showgirl. Toes gleefully pointed. Smiling.
It's possible this photo was taken at the very moment Judy Garland died.

I was always dressed in red, my towheaded older brother in blue. Later that got switched. Maybe my mother thought I'd attract less attention in blue.

I was a good student with plenty of friends, until my town merged with another in junior high. Kids I hadn't grown up with tormented me. The dreaded F word. Some old friends jumped ship and unfriended me. I tried fitting in for about a minute, but this was classic rock country, and I liked Blondie and The B-52's.

I told my girlfriend I was gay. She told me she was a lesbian. Other friends I told were cool with it. In high school the artsy upperclassmen protected me, and the worst was over by about 16. I didn't come out to my parents until after college. Mom wasn't surprised, but Dad laughed and said he never would've known.

When I moved to Hollywood there were gay people everywhere. I became a noted drag performer (the original Sharon Needles) and made fabulous friends. I wore red unless I'd bleached my hair, in which case I'd wear blue.

And I loved my big gay demimonde.

After I moved back east to be near my dying father, there were some unhappy years. The bar and the after party are the wrong place to grieve. Happily,
I bounced back, and I'm grateful for my life today.

Being gay doesn't define me. I'm much more than just that.
But looking at this picture now, I absolutely love it. That's the real me.

And I want to keep that kid smiling, and maybe give him another feather.

Steve's first, famous person same-sex crush:
Ralph Carter (Michael on "Good Times")
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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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Jamie

Jamie, age 11

Whitehall, Ohio (1977)

This picture shows one of my last years trick-or-treating in costume. And I have no idea what prompted me to dress in drag. As an adult, I have no affinity for that. But I look a LOT like my mother in that getup.

From the age of about 4,
I knew I was different.

I loved "Wonder Woman," "Charlie's Angels" and "Three's Company."And ABBA.

After quickly learning the word "sissy," I also learned that it was BAD, and that it somehow applied to me.

I did everything I could to "butch up" and tried to cast aside anything girly or frilly.

This was kind of okay, as I loved trucks and cars, too.

So it wasn't hard to fake it.

I was uncoordinated and hated sports, so it was a struggle to "keep it in the closet." Fortunately, my straight brother was as uncoordinated and as unconventional as I was.

My mom had sussed me out, but we never admitted it to each other until I was 30. I knew, however, I was gay by the time I was 14. And after having attributed my feelings to "envy" before that.

I found this picture embarrassing for years. But I like it now.

Jamie's first, famous-person same sex crushes:

Lee Majors, Jameson Parker, & Parker Stevenson
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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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