Greg

Greg, age 3

Klerksdorp, South Africa (1991)

This photo was taken over Christmas at my grandparent's house. Not happy with my own presents, I had seized my cousin's rainbow umbrella and started performing "Singing In The Rain," from one of my favorite movies as a kid.

I grew up in a wonderfully accepting, progressive home, and my parents have almost always been fantastically supportive of who I am. But bullying at school was a daily reality for me growing up, and there were many times when I ended up in tears. 

I came out in college and it was without a doubt one of the most liberating experiences of my life. Yes, it caused some pain at first, but that faded.

The freedom I felt did not.

Unfortunately, I did grow up in a culture that is possibly still globally synonymous with racism and intolerance.

The prevailing opinion in my community was it's better to date a white man rather than a black woman. Either way, there's not much acceptance going on.

But ultimately, I’m grateful for these struggles. They forced me to become a better person, more tolerant, and understanding of people different from me.

I have learned that being different is the most fantastic gift. It makes you more confident in who you are, as there is just nowhere for you to hide, anyway.

But, it took me years to relearn what I already knew when I was age 3:

If you want to dance around with a rainbow umbrella, GO FOR IT!
People might laugh with you or at you. Either way, laughter is always good!

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Shaun

Shaun, age 6

Johannesburg, South Africa (1993)

As far back as I can remember, I always knew that I was gay and that I liked boys. Interestingly enough, within myself I never had an issue with it. But I was always worried by what other people would think or say. This is something so ingrained that I still worry about it to this day.

The problem with society is that being gay is regarded as not "normal." I read an example once that’s stuck with me throughout the years because it is so true: 

If an adult sees a boy and a girl playing together, they'll often ask playfully 'Is she your girlfriend?' or visa versa. However, if it's two boys or two girls playing, nobody will ever ask them that same question. 

These subtle hints in every aspect of our culture cause being gay (and the coming out process) to be very difficult for many of us.

I first came out to my friends as a senior in high school. 

They took it without even batting an eye, and my best friend’s biggest issue was that I hadn’t told her earlier.  I'm fortunate that many of those people remain close friends to this day, and it is directly a result of their acceptance that I am the person I am today.

I ended up having to come out to my family, because I had gotten myself into a situation where I needed their help. And without them knowing the boy involved was in fact my boyfriend, they wouldn't be able to understand the full situation. 

My mom took my coming out the best. She took some time to process it, but today she is my number one cheerleader. But my dad is the unsung hero in my life story. He immediately realized my situation and fixed it quicker than I would have ever imagined possible. 

I will forever be grateful to him for standing by me during that time.

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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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Roger

Roger, age 11

Plettenberg Bay, South Africa (1966)

By the age of 5 I knew I was different. I grew up in a small coastal resort town, population then of about 1,200 people. Pop culture frightened me then, and
I switched off the radio when "modern music" was played.

One night, I'd wondered away from the colonial stone terrace, where the parents were being served drinks by the staff in their red-sashed, white uniforms.

Down a long grassed ceiling passage, through a bathroom doorway slightly ajar, I came across our hosts' son taking his early evening bath.

The reflection of candle light on the clear water in the white enamel bath, the fragrance of the grass roof, the shiny and smooth soap-scented muscled body, and the rough male kiss of fresh towels reverberated in the very depth of my being.

I was 21 when I told my parents I was gay. They asked, "What does that mean?" "Homosexual," I stammered. And it was left like that, and never spoken of again.

At 8-years old I fell in love with a nameless, dashing soldier dressed in full mess kit. His hand extended to a beautiful lady in a turquoise frilly ball gown, in an invitation to dance. He was on the cover of my first LP, and I played the Viennese waltzes over and over again, until I knew every note and was dancing with him.

Seeing this picture now, I feel stupid and camp. And quite frankly, ridiculous. However, I remember that back then, I was happy carefree and in love with life.
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Scott

Scott, age 6

Durban, South Africa (1991)

There are defining moments in all our lives where we accurately depict a stereotype. This was my day to bloom. My sister obviously caught my attention with her new garb, and that shade of pink still seems to have that effect on me.

"Being fabulous, naturally"

If you look at all the expressiveness on my face, you can tell there is a sense of enlightenment there, a kind of insight that can only be explained by biology.

From that moment, I knew who I wanted to be, what I wanted to wear, and who I wanted to be surrounded by.

Looking back, seeing my gob-smacked hysterical outburst, it’s clear to me who made being me, as easy as it was.

So to my sister: Cheers to every silent creatress camouflaged in pink.
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