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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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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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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Heath

Heath, age 12

Conroe, Texas (1988)

I came across this picture a few years back while going through some old photos, and could not stop laughing. Being 12-years old and growing up in a small conservative town in the early 80's definitely forces you to keep certain things to yourself. Yet, clearly a hunky, shirtless lifeguard towering over me brought a rather large smile to my face. I believe this photo was taken on a family trip and that is my younger cousin, Erin, oblivious to the very hot guy in front of her.

"The moment you realize something is different - priceless!"

Growing up and realizing I was different than all the other kids was challenging.

Around the 6th grade I began to act "gay" without realizing I was just being myself.

And that's when the name calling and bullying started.

I can still remember the first time someone called me a derogatory slur. It was at the local roller rink, and I was wearing an oversized shirt of patch work prints.

It flowed nicely in the breeze as I roller skated.

A guy named BJ (I know, right? LOL!) came up to me and called me a 'Fairy'.
I had no idea what fairy meant, so I just said 'Thanks' and fluttered off on my roller skates, oblivious to his real intentions.

It wasn't until a few years later that I realized it was probably the first time someone made fun of me for being gay.

In the 7th grade, two boys started to call me f*ggot. By then, I'd figured out that by just being myself, I was clearly giving myself away, so I just put my head down and pretended not to hear them. Gosh, kids can be so cruel at that age.    

Fortunately for me, I did my best to ignore the daily verbal abuses, concentrated on my music, and had a mother who always made me feel loved no matter what.

In the 9th grade, my mother was suddenly taken from our family in a car accident, that shattered my world. Being 14 and a momma's boy, we'd just started to develop a friendship beyond just mother and son.

I never got to tell my mother who I truly was inside, but many years later I asked a close family friend if she thought my mother knew I was gay. She said she always knew - but loved me no matter what, because I was her son.

Mothers are just amazing like that. :)

I am so impressed with the gay youth of today. They are bold, passionate, and self-assured. Things have come such a long way for all of us, and I am happy to be part of the journey.

Oh, and if you thought Erin might be a lesbian, you'd be correct! ________________________________________________

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Chris

Chris, age 12

Albuquerque, New Mexico (1974)

I hated Little League. When this baseball pic was taken, I was being bullied by an older teammate for being a sissy and a fag. In hindsight, I wonder if he had a crush on me? The 2nd picture is something I wrote in my diary in February of 1974, before I knew I was gay. In it, I say:

  
'You know, sometimes I get worried, because I think that sex and religion kind of don’t mix. I love God, but I love, I think, Becky, too. I guess it’s because sometimes sex is evil, but right now, as far as I’ve gone, I don’t think Jesus minds. In fact, I think he’s pleased, I hope.

Have I grown any since I started?
Wait! Wizard of Oz started! I’ve got to go!!
-- Chris'

I'd been called a "fag" my whole life, but I didn't know what the word meant.
It never occurred to me that I would do anything but meet a girl, fall in love and get married, and that God would be pleased with me. It's obvious, reading the diary now, that subconsciously I sensed there was something else going on. And perhaps God would not be pleased with me at all. And that to some, "sex is evil."

I wrote the diary entry a year before the life-changing moment in 8th grade, when I was staring at my friend Tim in the class row in front of me. I had an erection, and I was thinking, 'Why do I have an erection looking at him? It doesn’t make any sense! Two penises don’t fit together!'

Then I made the horrible realization that would poison the rest of my teenage years: 'Oh, my God. That’s what a FAG is.'

I became surly and quiet, watching my own every move for any mannerism that might betray my homosexuality. For years, my cheeks would burn with embarrassment if I ever looked back on these journal pages.

I hated this gay boy. His girly script. His passion for Judy Garland and The Wizard of Oz. And his unabashed enthusiasm, which I came to see as effeminate.

But now, I love this boy so, so much.

If I had a time machine, I'd go back and hold him tight and tell him he was wonderful, good and brave - and to  not listen to anyone telling him otherwise.

Chris' first, famous-person same sex crush:

Larry Wilcox (on "CHiPs")

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Rod

Rod, age 10

Great Bend, Kansas (1978)

I was a sensitive boy with a flair for fashion. In grade school, my friend Kelly told me I shouldn't be wearing my mother's jewelry to school. As a baby, I wanted a Raggedy Anne doll to play with in the pool, but had to settle for Mickey Mouse.

"Go TEAM!!!"

My mom wanted to name me Robin, but my father thought it was too "girlish."

Looking at this pic, I have a few thoughts: God bless Jimmy Connors' tennis clothing. They made the cutest short-shorts and matching shirts - which made my thighs look so thin. And thank you Izod, for the beautifully matched socks.

As you can see, I loved being really matched up (note the socks in the sandals). And I loved that my shorts resembled a cheerleader skirt.
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