Andrea

Andrea, age 3
Baltimore, Maryland (1993)

I had no clue that I was gay while growing up. Looking back, there honestly weren't many clues, as I was obsessed with many typically "girly" things. I loved baby dolls, my Littlest Pet Shop, and my princess nightgowns.

Although I had a tomboy streak,
I largely attribute that to growing up with a twin brother. 

Everything between us was a competition, but there was nothing to hint at my future sexuality.

In fact, it took me well into my college years to begin to question things. I developed a significant crush on one of my roommates during junior and senior year but was too oblivious (and definitely subconsciously afraid) to act on it.

It wasn't until I was age 23 that I officially told my family that I was interested in girls.

I'm one of the lucky ones, as I was born into a family that has absolutely no issues with my gayness. My siblings and I were encouraged to play with whatever toys we wanted and to explore extracurricular activities we were drawn to, regardless of whether they were stereotypically male or female centric. 

So I didn't have to worry that I would be treated any differently once I came out. And thankfully, I haven't been.

My only regret is that I didn't realize I was gay until so relatively late.

I think that if I had had more contact with gay people growing up, perhaps it would have occurred to me earlier than it did.

My wife knew she was gay significantly earlier than I did. She says she thinks this is largely due to the number of other gay girls she came in contact with growing up, especially while playing elite level soccer in England.

At any rate, I am now happily married and, although we currently live in Mississippi (where being openly gay can still be a bit of a crap shoot when it comes to acceptance), we have amazing family and friends and we're looking forward to starting a family in the near future.
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Doug

Doug, age 11
Las Cruces, New Mexico (1981)

I'm on the far left here, and the only one 'posing' in this picture of my siblings, cousins, and my grandfather. Like so many others, I too destroyed most photographic evidence of my gayness as a child, as it made me physically sick.

As an adult, I tried to be straight. So I got married to a woman.

We had two wonderful children together, but my secret was destroying not only my life, but my most important family members as well.

After finally coming out at age 36, my wife and I moved through our divorce as painlessly as we could and we remain great friends.

My kids are successful because of the love my ex-wife and I still share.
And today, we have each remarried -- both of us to amazing men!
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Samantha

Samantha, age 3
Wildomar, California (2001)

I’m the one in the diaper with all my brothers and three family friends in the back. It was my birthday and everybody had been wearing boxers the whole day so, obviously, I was in my pull up! My mom made everyone "dress up" for pictures -- but I refused.

I was always naked back then. I didn’t even know the difference between boys and girls until I had to use a separate bathroom in first grade.

Being raised with seven boys made me think I was a boy, too. I just didn’t know any different. I wore their hand-me-downs, and we played with (and destroyed) toys together. It was just my life.

I didn’t know what gay was until my dad told me never to come home with another girl or he’d kick me out. I wouldn’t even hold my best friend's hand in school for fear of being seen as gay. But I wore the label “Tomboy” proudly in my oversized T-shirts and baseball caps!

Seventeen years after this photo was taken, me and two of the boys behind me are proudly gay. Both parents struggled with it, but they’ve been so supportive. They love me and I’m so grateful to have them.

After depression, anxiety, suicide attempts, and self harm, I’m much better now. I’m in college and proudly lesbian. I love who I am and I’m not ashamed of it.
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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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Eric

Eric, age 11

Toronto, Ontario Canada (1962)

I'm here in the middle with my younger brother and sister. I was born on a farm in a family of seven, and we moved to the city at age 5. Before moving, I was invited to stay overnight at my neighbor Maryann's place. I assumed I would sleep with her, which made her parents laugh. They refused with no explanation, leaving me puzzled and offended.

I had no sense of sexuality till the bullying started in grade 7, and even my home room teacher encouraged it. It turns out he was getting it on with a girl in class. 

I volunteered at recess to clean his blackboards so I wouldn't face the bullies.  

Instinctively, I was sucking up to him (figuratively) to neutralize him as a homophobe - before I even knew I was gay! Even that lecherous teacher was better than recess that year.

Prior to that, I had friends. And a few guys that I liked especially and who remain in my mind as innocent loves. They let me play soccer (badly) and treated me like one of the guys. I thrived on the comraderie. 

I remember in grade 8 a loudmouth teaser tormenting me in the hall, and my friend Bob grabbing him and telling him to stop taunting me. My knight in shining armor was thoroughly a jock and very handsome. Why was he so willing to stand up for me?

Bob even took figure skating classes with me for a while 'To improve my skating skills' and let me play hockey (badly) in his backyard with his other friends. 

I wish I had learned team sports, but I lacked the jock spirit. 

Instead, I filled my plate full with studies, playing piano, and skating. 

Then came high school, which was great. No taunts! I was good at gymnastics, and the teacher made a point of praising my athletic ability in gym class. 

Those were idyllic years. 

My crushes remained fantasies, but they were still vivid. 

I remained in the closet with my family, where there was much upheaval and much heartbreak. I breathed a sigh of relief when I began university far from home and could starting dating etc.

I met a very effeminate, pushy guy from the US on a choir tour, and the sex we had was a nightmare! He eventually hitchhiked back to school - unannounced - and was camped out in my dorm room when I returned, much to the hilarity of my dorm mates. I was a victim, and that episode scarred me for life!

I finally had a few good encounters, but never found someone I really wanted to be with and who really wanted to be with me.

So my story has no 'happy ending' yet. 

Sadly, I keep looking but never seem to find a stable relationship. 

I suppose I might still be the problem?

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Andrew

Andrew, age 3
Weston-Super-Mare, Somerset UK (1988)

The picture shows me a little disheveled looking. I don't think I look much different these days, though my little brother here has changed a lot! I suppose the earliest sign that I was gay was that out of the four sons she had, my mother always described me saying, "He was never any trouble at all." 

I was a very gentle, sensitive child. Unlike my little brother, who was an absolute nightmare who never stopped screaming and crying!

I knew I was gay from the get-go, and it sometimes caused me embarrassment. Like entering a flower arranging competition at school, simply because I wanted to arrange flowers. 

Why? Because I loved flowers!

And I didn't think anyone would notice I was the only boy to enter a flower arranging competition. 

Unfortunately, for me, I won! 

I had to accept a prize in front of the whole school. And because I was a boy, 
I think some bitter parents bypassed the early signs I was gay. I think they assumed my mother had created the arrangement, and I was simply cheating. 

Ironically, my dad had picked the flowers, but it was all arranged by myself. 

The obvious "gay" behaviors I exhibited were never discouraged by my family.
At my grade school, I was friends with everyone in my class, and we all loved each other. So I never felt that I should be deeply worried about being different. Although, I was definitely aware of it. 

It wasn't until Jr. High when things changed and I realized my gayness was something to not draw attention to, despite it targeting me for daily insults. 

Today I can say I know that things do get better as you get older. And now I hope sometimes to bump into old bullies from school and not be scared of being gay. 

It's such a liberation, not being embarrassed or ashamed anymore. 

And I still love flowers!

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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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Erica

Erica, age 3

Bedford, Texas (1999)

I'm too queer to be straight, yet too straight to be queer. 

I grew up as a huge tomboy, always wanting to play with Legos and GI Joe dolls, but my parents insisted I have a bunch of "girly" toys instead.

I was always jealous of my younger brothers, who were both really into cars, Legos and Nerf guns. I was very unlike my younger sister, who adored frills, pink, and wearing makeup. Thus my mother always complained I wasn't feminine enough.

I always played "doctor" with the neighborhood girls, having my head against their chest.  

The one who got away, was this beautiful girl named Alyssa. 
We were both really into each other, and I wanted her to be my girlfriend. 

Eventually, I stopped talking to her, as she had gotten back with her boyfriend. It wasn't until years later she told me she had a huge crush on me, too. 

Frustrating.

I haven't came out as bisexual to my family yet as they are homophobic. I hear the words "It's just a phase!" or "Are you sure you're not just gay?" all the time.

Nope, I'm not "just gay," as I am crazy in love with my loving boyfriend, 
who just sees me as a wonderful person. No labels needed!

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Jessica

Jessica, age 1

Tasmania, Australia (1993)

I am on the right and my twin sister is on the left, looking at the camera. At this young age, I had no idea I was gay. However, looking at this photo now, I am clearly more into that kiss than my twin sister Emily. 

I grew up in a highly Christian home and grew up thinking I hated gay people. 
I even said things like that a lot. Hating myself was more like it. Just after my parents started their own church, I made a joke that if they didn't let me date this boy I liked, I might just date girls instead!

There was so much truth in what I said, yet no one had any idea.

My parents took their 'discovery' of my sexuality really badly. I had my first girlfriend was when I was 14, and she was not welcomed. Even though I was sent to a private school, no matter where I went I found girls to love!

My parents have come such a long way in their acceptance of me. But more importantly, I have discovered my true self. I also discovered in time that I didn't have to look, dress, or act a certain way to be a lesbian.

I am now a very happy, highly feminine woman who loves the 1950's and red lipstick. I am a pinup model, a dancer, and a gay activist for my community.

I've been engaged for over a year and have big gay plans for my life with my beautiful partner. And that includes many kisses like the one in my photo!

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Wendell

Wendell & Rick, age 3 and 5

Brownsville, Texas (1955)

Here's my brother Rick dressed as Davy Crockett's wife Polly and I'm dressed as his husband Davy. He carefully draped cloth over his head to make lovely hair and wore a bath robe for her beautiful dress. He placed a piece of white cloth on my head (which is supposed to be a coonskin hat) so I could be his husband.

I decided Davy needed a nice dress also, so I tied a belt around a brightly colored pillow and placed it in front of me as a skirt. Then we added Ricky's prized "Tiny Tears" doll as our darling child to complete the picture.

When Daddy saw us, he was not interested in taking a picture, so Ricky sent me to do it. I was the baby and still Daddy's favorite, so talked him in to it. I waited until my mother had had a few cocktails and then went in to convince her to get Daddy to take these pictures. 

He was willing to take my picture but did not want to take Ricky's.

"But you have to," I told him. "He is my wife. Davy loves Polly very much."
Daddy thought this was very funny and took these pictures.

Later we saw a faux coon skin at the store and I was asked if I wanted to try it on. I did, but when I felt the tail I freaked out and started crying. When they asked what was wrong, I said: "He killed that cat!"

In 5th grade I broke with Davy Crockett for good when I wrote a school report about the U.S. government's policy of exterminating buffalo to destroy Native American culture. I also discovered that Davy was an alcoholic murderer and racist who killed a black man and got away with it, claiming he was too drunk to know what he was doing. I titled it "DAVY CROCKETT WAS A MURDERER!"

My teacher was a bit nervous about this. 

She gave me a good grade but made me change the title.

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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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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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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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Jim

Jim, age 7
Penticton, British Columbia, Canada (1965)

I've always been gay, and looking back at my photos, I cant figure out why everyone else was surprised. And yes, I'm the boy on the right, hand on my head.

I guess it was because I always had a best "girlfriend" and so people thought there MUST be something going on romantically between us.

I was always "creative" and "whimsical" and I loved to sing and dance.
And I was into everything "artsy."

I was never bullied but still felt I was missing out all through school, as all my friends had boyfriends or girlfriends. I took my guidance counsellor's advice and waited til after high school to come out to my friends.

My mom cried a little when I told her a couple years later, but she assured me that she would always love me. She called back a week later and said she was having a little trouble because she didn't want me to be alone.

I told her I had just met a very cute boy, and he eventually met my mom.
Well, it's 32 years later and we're still together!!!
And it is still getting better and better!

We take nothing for granted and we tell each other 'I love you' everyday.
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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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Marty

Marty, age 6
Los Angeles, California (1968)

Every summer my parents would take our family on a camping trip to various places in California by a lake or river. My dad did his best to teach me and my brothers one of his favorite past times - fishing. Where my brothers excelled at this, all I ever wanted to do was goof off and practice casting the reel.

This would inevitably cause my dad to send me away to play with my sisters, which was fine with me. Of course when it came time to be posing the camera,
I was always a willing participant!

My childhood was basically a happy one. Although, school was difficult at times and I did my best to stay invisible to stave off the inevitable bullies.

I had a large loving family that provided a happy oasis, and my siblings were all welcoming to how I chose to express my identity. In fact, my older sisters often took pleasure in dressing me up in various "costumes" from their closet for photo opportunities. Again, I was a willing participant.

Coming out to my siblings was pretty much a non issue. I remember calling to tell them, and the response was always the same: 'Oh, I know' followed by 'I love you.' I just wanted to get it out in the open so we didn't have to pretend anymore.

I never had the nerve to formally come out to my parents, but eventually it was just how it was. As a kid I endured 'faggot' jokes at the dinner table from my dad. But as we both matured, he couldn't have been more loving or supportive of me.

My mother was pure love at heart, but sometimes hid behind the world of denial. I remember visiting her once with my sister and talking about love and pining for when we'd each have a relationship. My mom's response to my sister was not to worry, it will come. But to me, she said that I didn't need that.

Thankfully, as we both matured, knowledge led to her acceptance.
____________________________________________________

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Ashton

Ashton, age 5
Athens, Georgia (1989)

It was all The Nutcracker's fault. Well, that and my sister's tap shoes. Every Christmas since the age of 1, my family would drive to Atlanta, stay one night in the grandest hotel, and see The Nutcracker at "The Fabulous Fox Theatre"

It was the grandest of occasions, and the best part was dressing up. I'd wear white buck shoes, seersucker pants, suspenders - and therefore felt invincible.

It was my gay childhood version of the Superhero Costume.

In those rags, no one could stop the Sugar Plum Fairy from leaping out of me - and down the stairs, across the front lawn and all the way through the lobby of the glitzy Ritz Carlton.

I was spoiled rotten with love and support. Today, I'm a set designer living in New York City.


And I have this life because my parents knew exactly how to channel my desires into a constructive path for myself. So, thanks to my Mom & Dad - who are celebrating their 39th wedding anniversary this year!
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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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Greg

Greg, age 2
Plano, Illinois (1974)

This photo was taken at my grandma's house, where I remember listening to
Judy Garland's "Send My Baby Back to Me" on a 78-rpm record in her basement. On the left I have my Ken doll as I'm coveting my sister's Barbie Dream House that she got that day. I couldn't even take my eyes off of it posing for a photo! And as you can see, she's trying to get me to face the camera.

I first realized I was "different" in 7th grade. I prayed that it wasn't true and that I would change, but I just didn't find girls attractive. I didn't really know what gay meant though, so I thought maybe I was supposed to have been born a girl.
I was pretty tormented emotionally, and I felt depressed.

My same-sex crushes were the boys on "Eight Is Enough" - all of them. My mom tells me I was in love with Chastity Bono, so go figure. Closeted through high school, I don’t remember being picked on for being gay. But, I'd been bullied and teased because of my size and lack of athletic interest and ability.

When I turned 25, I was given the greatest gift: self-acceptance. And I remember feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted. Upon reflection, I realized that I had always been gay and soon began coming out to friends and family, and I finally came out to my mom 3 years ago.

Today, I live as an openly gay man. I've been told by straight men that they respect me for being who I am, and that makes me feel great. I feel that I should use my position to educate others, to pave the way for future LGBTQ kids so they don't have the fear of being "found out" that they're gay.

I was born this way, and I love it!
___________________________________________________

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Ray

Ray, age 6
St. Louis, Missouri (1980)

By the time of this photo, I already knew I was not the same as the other boys.
As you can see, I have on my Superman suspenders. Though I didn't really understand it then, I was attracted to Superman. I also wanted to be around construction workers, because I found them attractive, too.

Other kids used to call me "Gay Ray." I was not particularly feminine as a child, but the other kids still knew there was something very different about me. This was because of the things I would say, and not being shy about the fact that I enjoyed lots of things typically reserved for girls.

My twin sister used to love to dress me up in her clothes, and we'd run around the neighborhood together. She would introduce me as her "cousin Becky."

While my mother was always very encouraging of me expressing myself, my father was not pleased.

I had a rough childhood. I cried almost every day and was so confused about what was going on with me. This only contributed to the way that I was treated by the other kids and some family members. I used to pray every night, hoping that God would "fix" me. But every morning I woke up the same.

It wasn't until I got into high school that I started making friends with the other outcast kids and punkers. Though life got harder for me in many ways, it always got easier for me to accept myself and to become comfortable with who I am.

Today, I'm still not like the other boys. I'm an artist and musician.
And maybe one day I'll open a little place that I can proudly call "Gay Ray's"
as an homage to my troubled path.
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