Eve

Eve, age 13
London, United Kingdom (2004)

I've always been very dramatic. But my coming out wasn't as dramatic as I'd have liked it to be, as I kind of trickled out of the closet. It started with telling a couple of my close friends at 14 about being in love with the girl who played Sky Masterson in our school's production of "Guys & Dolls."

I went through the usual 'Do-I-want-her-or-want-to-be-her?' feelings. Or wondering if maybe I just liked girls because I didn't know any boys? Thank goodness for my all-girls schools though, because our drama department introduced me to the wonders of cross dressing (and ladies in suits).

I tried coming out to other gay girls I knew. But they told me I couldn't possibly know if I'd never been with a girl. After that I shut up about it.

I decided coming out at school was a bad, bad idea. I thought everyone would either hate me, or think I was doing it for attention.

So, I tried dating boys. By the time I got to University I thought, 'Why am I doing this when I could be with girls?' So I ditched the guy, cut off my hair, and bought about a million checked shirts. I was finally part of an accepting gay community!

My mum eventually found out when she found a postcard from my girlfriend signed with kisses. After all the months of her asking "Are you gay?" and me replying 'No. Why do I have to be gay to have a short haircut?' - I finally said 'Yeah, OK. I have a girlfriend'. So it was all a little anti-climatic.

My mum immediately phoned everyone she knew to tell them the news.
And that's how I came out. I'm still with the girlfriend who sent that postcard,
and I still wear men's clothing to this day.
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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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Henry & Rocky

Henry, age 5

Rocky, age 4

Santa Ana, California (1973)

I'm Henry on the right, with my brother Rocky on the left. Growing up searching for a sense of self is hard to do. My parents, especially my mother, made it virtually impossible for me to be comfortable with coming out at 17.
Our household told us that being gay was a sickness, and that we were defective.

I suffered at the hands of shrinks, priests, and my mother's tactics trying to "change" me. The one person who made this truly bearable was my little brother, Rocky. He is also gay. And he always supported me with no judgments.

Growing up, I knew Rocky was gay before I knew I was. He once performed "I'm Every Woman" by Chaka Khan in my mother's platforms, to cheer me up once when I was really down. Our mom caught us, but I remember him really looking up to me, trying in earnest to seek my approval.

We were different as boys. Rocky liked perfume, make-up, and glamor, and I liked sweaty men, rock music, and leather. We still like the same things now.
He was a Goth and I was an awkward punk, just trying to fit in.

We once got into a fist fight as teenagers when I slept with Chris, a boy he had a major crush on. He was Rocky's sleepover guest, but he'd made his way into my bed. My brother screamed at me, "I hate you, you f*cking whore!" as he wept.

That very moment, my dad asked my mom just what we were talking about.
Of course, we couldn't tell them what was really going on. Rocky didn't speak to me for 2 weeks, and I felt like crap - but he eventually forgave me.

Rocky's support made me stronger to come out and accept myself. Doing so made him more comfortable with who he is, too. There's been love, laughter, and tears. But thankfully, I had my brother with me the whole time growing up.

So I need to say:
I love you, Rocky.

I know I don't say it a lot, but this is the best way for me to show it. You have been my rock in many ways. We bonded with a united front, and our parents eventually came to accept us as well.

I now live in London with Bren, my partner of 9 years, and our dog Jolene. We also run a successful tattoo shop in the city. Looking back at this photo, it's a reminder of how much my brother Rocky really means to me.

Henry's first, famous-person same sex crush:

Sean Connery (in "Time Bandits")

Oh, that red toga and his crotch! Poppa's got a brand new bag!

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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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Natasha

Natasha, age 6
London, UK (1998)

I didn't really wear dresses after the age of 5, unless I had to. I always loved dressing-up, usually as some kind of Victorian urchin. I was pretty obsessed with the musical "Oliver," and while my friends dressed up as Disney Princesses, I was dressing up as the Artful Dodger. This picture makes me smile, I look so pleased with myself.

I always knew I was different, but I wasn't really sure what it was that made me different.

For a while, I thought I wanted to be a boy, or might hate being girl. So I was branded a "tomboy" for quite a while.

In early adolescence I spent quite a lot of time desperately hoping that I would fancy a boy, but it never really happened.

I thought I was odd, and so I began to lie about who I was attracted to, hoping it would eventually come true.



It wasn't until I was around 15 that I started to realize that I liked girls, although on some level I guess I already knew. I came out when I was 17, and people were generally unsurprised.

My message for young LGBT people would be to always stay true to yourself; don't hide who you are because of other people's bigotry. Stay safe, and love yourself.

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

Pocahontas & Drew Barrymore (in "Charlie's Angels")

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Uli

Uli, age 4

London, UK (1983)

I think my Grandmother took this photo, as it’s her high-heels I'm wearing - although I have no real memory of it being taken, or who the girl in the cart is. It's interesting that I’m outside in a public park, parading around in heels so unselfconsciously. I do have memories of scampering around in the bottom of her wardrobe closet. I would find some high-heels and totter around her bedroom, and she'd let me do it. And I remember it was the best fun ever.

My mother showed me this photo when I was 8, and I recall feeling ashamed of it, and thinking how terrible it would be if anyone from school saw it. I wanted the picture buried and kept secret, even if I didn’t understand exactly what it all meant then. So it feels really good to share it here now.

I also played with Barbie dolls at this time, and I loved them. My Mum would take me to a big department store and allow me to pick one that I liked for a special treat. I think it's great that she did that. That kind of story is echoed in a really sweet children's book called "William's Doll" by Charlotte Zolotow.

Playing with these dolls was wonderful, and my first crush was a Ken doll, with his intriguing anatomical protrusion. But it was also a source of unease for me, because I felt on some level, that playing with dolls was wrong.

Also in the pic, check out the length of my hair. I had bright, almost white blond hair as a boy, and with aging hippie parents, they generally kept it long.
I remember women would comment to my Mother that I looked like a girl.

Eventually mum grew concerned with what other people were saying, and took me to the hairdresser to get all my golden locks cut off. Afterward, I remember sitting in front of the mirror at home and crying my heart out - and how she felt terrible. Then, in an effort to butch me up, she made me go to Karate lessons once a week, which I mostly hated. Except that it gave me the chance to hang out with all the class girls during breaks. Where there's a will, there's a way...

In hindsight, I think mum was just trying to prepare me for the real world, to ensure that I had the physical strength to bolster my emotional sensitivity.
And I know that impulse came from her love.

I now work as assistant manager at Gay's The Word – the UK's independent and comprehensive LGBT bookshop. Despite my job, I still think I’m somewhat of a hung-up homo. I've never dragged-up for example, and tend to act in a pretty masculine fashion. And honestly, I can be quite self-conscious about this.

So finding this photo again as a 31 year old has been really good for me.

I'm really proud of that little boy that I used to be, walking around the park in high-heels. And I think I’m going to take a page out of his book from now on, relax, and just be myself.
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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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