Amanda

Amanda, age 4

Prospect, Colorado (1993)

Growing up in a conservative household was the most difficult part of understanding who I was.

I didn't realize my orientation until I was much older.

But there were subtle clues and almost constant feelings of confusion in my childhood.

Such as, I made my Barbies kiss. And why not? Ken and Barbie could kiss!

I loved to play in the dirt with trucks, and loved having dinosaur birthday parties.

As I grew up, my family constantly put down gays and lesbians, telling me and my brother they were all damned in God's eyes. I hurt and felt ashamed of myself, and the feelings I was having.

Especially when I developed my first crush on a girl named Salina.
And I knew I couldn't tell my parents how isolated I was feeling.

Now that I'm on my own, I don't have to hide anymore. I have the support and resources I need to help discover more about myself. And I couldn't be happier!

So if you ever feel alone or unsure of who you are, don't worry.
We've all been there, and will help each other get through it!
____________________________________________________

Felix

Felix, age 5

Upstate, New York (1960)

This is a picture of me and Skeezix, my first dog.

I don't remember having any celebrity crushes at any time. Joan of Arc isn't exactly a celebrity?

But I'd say I had some role models: JFK, James Dean, Superman, Huck Finn, Robinson Crusoe, and Maynard G. Krebs.

I wish we had Rachel Maddow back then.

I had an instinctive dislike for Chuck Connors. I'd beg to stay up late, just to catch his humiliating toss from the Fort. His sword broken, buttons torn off and spat on.


I was quite sure I was different by the time I was 7 or 8, when the "birds and bees" story circulated the playground.

My first reaction was to suggest to my "best friend" a position I replicated with my hands. I made a peace sign with both hands, and connected each hand between the two fingers, aka a scissor sister.

And I said, "Well, couldn't we just.....?"
Her reaction made it quite clear, "No. We can not"

Later in life, I was lucky enough to come of age in the San Francisco area in the early 1970's. Now, I've found a role model called "Hothead Paisan" in a great comic book by Diane DiMassa. Wanna know what an angry dyke thinks like?

Thanks for this blog. I hope it gives some people faith to just be who they are.
And to fight for feminism. Remember, your gender is NOT determined by your sex.

Now go get out, and save the world.

PS:
Please describe me as a "gay woman" (though I am a lezzy). We are being written out of the word GAY, in the name of inclusiveness! We say "gay and lesbian" - as if a lesbian is not gay. Dogs aren't cats, right? Please think of this in terms of how the debate is framed. And thank you, again.
____________________________________________________

DC

DC, age 7

Victoria, Texas (1974)

At work the other day, while mopping the floor with one of those old stringy mops, I had a flashback to when I was about 8 years old. I was at my Grandmother's house, and I grabbed her mop from the garage. Leaning it up against a chair, I began playing "beauty parlor" by braiding and combing that nasty, dirty mop head. This, while my brothers were outside playing in the dirt.

I knew I was different from a very young age. When I was about 5,
I remember asking my mom if she thought I had a good figure.
She told me, "Little boys don't worry about their figures."

Growing up in a small South Texas town in the 1970's, there were no gay role models. I didn’t even know what being gay was. Yet, people at school called me "f*ggot." How did they know
I was gay before I did?

Did they somehow see my eyes lingering on the guy in the 7-Up commercial that I loved so much?

Or did they know how happy I was when MTV would play Elton John's "I’m Still Standing" video?

I didn’t know I was attracted to men, I just thought I was jealous of them.
It was the only emotion I could link my feelings to.

Years later, I realized that people who call other people names, are only doing it because of ignorance. I now forgive them for that, as the bigger person.

I came out in college. Lucky for me, I have amazingly supportive parents. When I was trying to tell my mom I was gay, I couldn't get the words out through the tears. She finished my sentence for me and hugged me.

"It doesn’t matter to me one bit, sweetie," she said. "I'll tell Daddy, and at least I know I'll always have someone to go shopping with." I love my mom.

Being a gay teen is never going to be easy, but you can be happy.
I found happiness, and April 2 will be my 20-year anniversary with my partner.
______________________________________________________

Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"
Click to follow this blog with Bloglovin' Tweet

Mark

Mark, age 8

Houston, TX (1967)

I grew up with a conservative, though not religious, Texas family. When I was 7, my mother caught me with a neighbor boy in my pup tent in our backyard one afternoon. We were unclothed and in full glory.  Awkward!

Afterward, my mother asked me about it. I don’t recall my answer, but clearly understood that she was quite concerned.

My mother never told my dad about that incident.

As far as I was concerned, what I was doing was totally natural. But I realized that I had to hide my activities.

I experimented with a string of neighbor boys until I was 14.
At that point, I realized I might get caught by the wrong person.

I had no idea I was gay yet. In my environment there was simply no word for it.

I wasn't effeminate, but was always small for my age. Perhaps the only reason I was never beaten up was because I loved masculine energy.


I played Army, built forts, often played in the mud, went skinny-dipping with friends, was an avid Cub and Boy Scout, and even a US Marine.

On the outside I was the quintessential boy, and enjoyed regular boy activities. Yet inside, something was always missing. What was missing, was coming out and acknowledging I was gay.

When my blond, attractive girlfriend failed to "make the gay go away" when I was 23, I dropped the pretense (and her), and went to a gay bar. I discovered it quite by accident, and it was located only a few blocks from where I lived at the time. I was out with a vengeance and rapidly made up for lost time.

After a couple of failed attempts at relationship building, I found my man.
We've been together since 1988, and got married in California 20 years later.

I opened up to my creative self and I'm a published novelist now, too.
And I love our gay life together here in Chicago.

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

Lance Kerwin (in "James At 15")
We're the same age, and I devoured everything I could find with him in it.
_________________________________________________