Mike

Mike, age 2
Jacksonville, Florida (1949)

"Honey, get your hands off your hips.
That's how I got started."

I was a pretty happy kid, and always very artistic. I got the colored chalk in 1st grade and would draw holiday pictures.

I won the Jacksonville baby contest a little while before this was shot, so I guess I made my debut back then - complete with a little gold cardboard crown (my first tiara).

I didn't even figure out I was gay until my 20's, but I always knew I was different. I hated sports, and I loved outer-space shows and cowboy shows on TV.

Today I'm a full-time painter of the Southwest, and my work is shown in the Booth Museum.

There's something about butch men in boots really does it for me. And maybe something about Indians tying them up, too.

I love this picture, now that I love myself as a gay adult.

To young gay kids: Those other kids giving you a hard time now will soon fade into your memory. Don't let them define you, and whatever you do - try not to live in anger. That hurts you more than it hurts them. And it means they won.

I've been very comfortably out for decades now and wouldn't have it any other way. The straight folks that really count in your life, really don't care.

Be proud and make a great example.
That's what will change peoples' minds about gay people.

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

Tommy Kirk (in Disney's "Hardy Boys")
He turned out to be gay too. I guess I had Gaydar even back in the 50's...
__________________________________________________

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

Wanderson

Wanderson, age 6

São Paulo, Brazil (1983)

If you are a gay teenager, you might have thought about ending your own life.
I know I did. I was raised believing that being gay was wrong and that getting married, having kids, and forming a family was the only thing in store for me.

I used to pray before going to bed and ask the Lord to please make me straight, as if it was as that simple. I saw myself as a pervert, and I didn’t realize that my desire for boys was beginning to show.

My dad used to yell at me to talk like a man. I tried really hard but couldn't do it, and as I was just a child, why should I sound like an adult?

As a teenager, it got worse since as my friends started dating, and I was sure that I'd meet the right girl, and she would make me straight. Of course, that never happened and I started feeling depressed all the time.

All I wanted to do was die so the pain would stop.

And then I fell in love with my best friend. I was dating - or trying to date - a girl at the time, but my friend was all I could think of. I can't describe the confusion and pain I went through, and being only 16, couldn't even think about coming out or accepting what I was.

Years passed, and when I turned 23,
I decided it was time to have a conversation with me, myself and I.

And it was a different Wanderson that heard me say: 'I’m gay!' I smiled and he smiled back, and then all was much lighter and free. After that I started coming out to my friends, and every time I did, I felt better and better.

At home, everything was basically bad. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, someone told my mother about me. That drove her away from me, as she was incapable of handling a gay son. My sister found some love letters I'd sent to a man, and she didn’t handle it well either. I decided to tell my brother who was a teenager, and he was the only one who really tried to understand me.

After that I came to know a world that I never knew existed. I had new friends that were fine with my sexuality, and I finally found a man that showed me what it meant to be in a gay relationship. It didn’t last long, but it made me grow up and helped prepare me for who is now the love of my life - Alexandre.

He taught me about pride and not being afraid of who you are. Today, my mom sees me with new eyes, as someone who's also formed a family. And my sister and brother are closer to me than ever before. It wasn’t easy, but it was definitely worth it.

Today, I'm 34 and I do not wish or want to be anything but GAY! Through everything I've built, the friends I have and ones I've lost, and all the obstacles I've moved out of my way, it made me a better man.

Thus, I must tell you: it gets better! MUCH BETTER!!!

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

Richard Chamberlain (in "The Thorn Birds")

Bastian

Bastian, age 3

Swanton, Vermont (1985)

Just look at this kid! Blue feetie pajamas, a mop-top haircut straight outta the mid-80s, playing with blocks in a very earth-toned living room. A kid looking up at dad with his ever-present camera, capturing every moment of his eldest child's life as it happened. That's the advantage of having a photographer for a father: really nice angles and flattering photos. And I really like this one; it really captures that innocent, boyish charm when I was just a wee one.

I look a lot more comfortable in this picture than the ones where I'm wearing pink nightgowns, considering I'm not a girl.

Well, not that they knew that at the time, of course.

I'm grateful that for much of my childhood, my toys and clothing were rather unisex and not overly girly.

Oh sure, I owned a few Barbies in my time, but they generally ended up headless or tossed down the stairs, as I'd laugh endlessly at the weird and painful-looking poses they ended up in.

However, my parents mostly encouraged play that was more open-ended and prone to self-expression, like Play-Doh or art supplies.

There was always the vague, 'Go play outside' command, which led to all sorts of adventure and improvised shenanigans. Stick-swords, buckets of mud, trying to dig to China via the sandbox. No tea parties for me, thanks.

On the other hand: As a kid, unless it's really ingrained into you by parents, you don't really see other kids as "so-and-so the girl" or "what's-their-face the boy" - you just see a kid and another kid, or the one who smells kind of funny with the runny nose. Gender doesn't matter, and gender expression matters even less. You just do your kid thing, and nobody really gives a hoot.

In that vein, it wasn't until puberty when the gender segregation and the 'not-really-right feelings' surfaced, culminating in the start of my physical transition from female to male in 2005, at age 23.

Pretty much, everyone was remarkably fine when I came out as being transgender, and seeking to change my name, start hormone therapy, and get a mastectomy. My friend Becka summed up the general nonchalance the moment I came out to her. She grabbed her phone, and tapped away at the keypad.

'What are you doing?' I asked her.
'Changing your name in my phone directory. Duh', she replied.

My mother was extraordinarily supportive, as were my brothers. My youngest brother, a teenager then, took a sort of glee in showing me how to be a proper dude: how guys shake hands, how guys hug. That kind of thing.

The only one with major reservations was my father. I was daddy's girl - in his eyes. He was so proud of all I'd done in life, and then I went and did this and took his little girl away? At the time, it seemed like the end of the world, and that maybe he'd even give up on me, or wouldn't talk to me ever again, but...

Eventually, my dad came to realise that I'm still me, still there.
That I hadn't gone anywhere. And I wasn't daddy's "girl" to begin with.

Nowadays, it's no issue, and he seems just as pleased to have two sons as he was to have a son and a daughter. I also think he's jealous that I can grow a better beard than he can. Time does help, as does expressing the same love and patience as always.

All in all, I'm a pretty satisfied fella these days.
And, admit it: You don't see a little girl in that picture either, do you?

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

Billie Joe Armstrong (of Green Day)

Right around the 'Dookie' CD in '94.

And yes: Coincidentally, I'm also gay! Fancy that!
_______________________________________________________

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

Mark

Mark, age 8

Attleboro, Massachusetts (1976)

This picture represents how it all became clear to me at an early age. At age 5 I begged my family to  let me take ballet classes. Nijinsky was flying around on PBS television, giving me a crystal-clear vision of what I wanted my life to be: soaring, gorgeous, moving always and only to a dramatic soundtrack… and clad in tights. The response: “Little boys don’t take ballet.”

Thus was the first sharp realization in my life of the dissonance between what was possible and fabulous in the larger world (male ballet stars) and the alien world I inhabited.

I bookmark this event as the revelation of my “difference”.

But at the same time I knew – thank you PBS!!! - that the universe was on my side.

I immediately adopted the strategy of sneaking through the insanity undercover, to get whatever I could from it. 


So I registered for tap-class, and took up the clarinet in order to round out an emulation of Gene Kelly. I proceeded to hound the teacher with choreography suggestions, for seven years.

Though ballet was over the line for my family, they nonetheless were extremely deferent to my faerie-child ways. Dolls, lipstick, dresses, showtunes, my obsessive impersonations of Paul Lynde and Charles Nelson-Riley -- even the behavioral extremity of my love at age 4 for my teenage cousin Kevin (poor thing!). I’m the youngest of 8 children, none of whom are stupid. I was protected. Blessed Be for that.

The Pink Panther was my first television boyfriend, and my romantic preference for Shaggy over Fred on “Scooby Doo” foreshadowed/established my lifelong frumpy-hippy-crazed heart. I also knew for a fact that “Batman’s” Robin (Burt Ward) was waiting for my hand in marriage as soon as we were old enough.

Isis and Wonder Woman perfectly encapsulated the powers and style I longed to embody. Frankly, they still do. Bring. On. The. Bracelets.

As adults we can give children permission to respect and adore their own and each other’s inner magical beings. I say “permission” because children already know that the magic of love reigns supreme. We need to take every possible opportunity to let them know that they’re right.
____________________________________________________

Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

Click to follow my blog with Bloglovin' Tweet

Jay

Jay, age 5
South Bend, IN (1954)

I was a very imaginative kid. I enjoyed role playing, but was not a born thespian. It was the single image/pose that captured a moment/attitude that I employed - as shown here. In this photo, I think I was channeling Rita Hayworth and other glamor girls I'd seen in magazines. At that age, no one in my family minded my "dress up" or "pretending".

But, in high school, attitudes toward my "ambivalence" had changed, and my parents made me join the swim-team, and play football. Having endured those episodes with great pain (mostly psychological), I decided to start dating girls to escape the family "sports requirement."

And that worked quite well, freeing me of parental pressure, and I viewed it as a path to "normalcy" and acceptance.

This, in spite of the fact that I'd been sexually attracted to men since I was 9. And I remember those moments in the swim-team showers to this day!

Many years - and many heartaches - later, I separated from my wife of 10 years and "came out". Fortunately, she was very understanding, and aside from a few years of nearly unendurable self-guilt, there was no exterior punishment. It was something I got past - and thank God for my art!

I often wonder how much more open and comfortable my life would have been without these experiences. But, I also feel that my life experiences made me the artist I am today. And, the whole person who had a 26-year gay relationship (ending in his death), and now a new, 5-year-and-counting wonderful gay relationship.

Self acceptance can be a long hard path. But the earlier you start down that path, the more pleasant and rewarding your journey is likely to be.

Raffael

Raffael, age 6

Havana, Cuba (1965)

I was born and raised in Havana, and this picture was taken at a party in our home. Both of my parents migrated to Cuba from Italy, in a town in the south called Padula.

"Here's a gay boy!"

I was a very happy child, and I have a twin brother who is not gay. I knew from around age 6 that I was different, but didn't know what - if anything - to do about it.

In 1967 we moved to Mexico City. It was around this time I actually did anything for the first time, with another boy who was about 13 years old.

Keep in mind, this was back in 1968, and my parents where both very traditional.
My father was open-minded, and I knew this because my sister had a lesbian friend when she was 15, and my father was very close to her friend, since her parents had not been.

I, on the other hand, was too afraid to let him know. Later in life I told the whole planet, and here we are today.

My family is very close, supportive, and loving, and I've been truly fortunate that all my friends and relatives have accepted me, and have always loved me.

Today, I live in Los Angeles. I enjoy watching TV Land, especially old episodes of I Love Lucy, The Brady Bunch, and many more. I speak Italian and Spanish, and I work for one of the nation’s largest HIV/AIDS non-profit organizations.

Raffael's first, same sex crush:
My neighbor that lived next door. He was maybe 12 or 13, and I had

the biggest crush on him. Every time I saw him, I was all in a daze.