February 13, 2011

Pierre

Pierre, age 5
Quebec, Canada (1977)

This picture was taken inside our cabin in St. Donat, Quebec. It was Christmas morning, and I'd just woken up, very excited to get all my gifts.

I sat down beside the fireplace, and my mother couldn't believe my pose! LOL! She asked me not to move, and she took the shot.

I remember starting to feel different around 7 or 8-years old. I just wasn't interested in the same things the other boys my age were.

I'm now 39, and fully enjoy my life. I have amazing parents that always showed me how to be a great person, and to embrace whatever makes us different.

Lori

Lori, age 9
Cedar Falls, IA (1970)

This is me and my friend Ken, ready for war - well before we ended up in an epic real brawl as we walked home from school one day, which ended our friendship.

For me - despite the leopard pants my grandma made me - wearing jeans and sneakers while running into town was who I was.

I hung out with all the boys, playing Bart Starr to my friend Jon's Donny Anderson, from the Green Bay Packers. Or playing a Knight of the Round Table using metal garbage can lids and cardboard swords.

And beating up anyone who dared pick on my sister.

I used to race the boys' Stingray bikes my dad built all over town, with my little AM radio slung over the handlebars, as I listened to the Rolling Stones and Jefferson Airplane.

Darkness would fall and I'd race home, compelled to be on time to watch Elizabeth Montgomery in "Bewitched," whom I loved on an epic scale. 

One of my fondest memories is the day my dad gave me a bright and shiny new baseball bat and ball for my birthday. It's a memory which he probably assigned as the pivotal moment he still had some control to do things differently, and not end up with a lesbian daughter.

Fortunately, I had parents who did not force me into dresses, except as decorum required, such as church on Easter. I’m forever grateful I got to be essentially who I was in those days gone by.

I wonder what might have been, had puberty not interfered with the innocence of pure joy I experienced as a 9-year-old dyke.

Lori's first, famous-person same sex crush:
Elizabeth Montgomery ("Bewitched")
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Bewitched - The Complete Second SeasonJefferson Airplane: Fly Jefferson AirplaneSchwinn Sting-Ray (Enthusiast Color Series)Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch Femme Erotica

Jim

Jim, age 7
San Pablo, California (1971)

There was always something I loved about striking a pose that always felt glamorous. I always liked being presentable, and I was feeling so sporty in my sneakers, cuffed pants, and shiny windbreaker. I always felt different, but "gay" didn't resonate until I was about 10, when we moved to El Sobrante, CA.

Back then, the kids would ride their banana seat bikes,
or come to our house to swim. I was always drawn to hair on guys, especially longish straight hair.

My best friend had blondish-white hair, and our other friend had jet-black hair with Dippity Do pomade.

My friend Veronica had an older brother, who I met at 9.

Her brother was cool - and hot! - and I was smitten with his straight, shoulder length, dirty-brown hair. And he wore a PUKA SHELL necklace. Needless to say, I put a great amount of mileage on my bike riding past his house!

I didn't mind the boy stereotype of playing and getting dirty, but I much preferred listening to my Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Doors, and Credence Clearwater Revival records with my best friend. Or climbing the evergreen tree in the back hill, to see San Francisco and feel the breeze in the hopes of hearing the news of gay liberation emanating from the streets.

From this age on, I discovered that what I had was a gift, and I learned the necessity to give it to those without it. Unfortunately, as in many Shakespearean themes, my good nature became manipulated by my brothers, who taught me the Machiavellian principles. Which meant "boys only" swim dates that opened my eyes to my peers, and the wonder and beauty of the male form.

This picture brings me joy and peace, and keeps me grounded in the belief that I'm still clearly that boy, and I give him a voice often. No shame then, no shame now. Luckily, it was ingrained in our upbringing to understand a person's content - and not their skin color, clothes, or hair, etc.

As someone who has worked in NYC with young gay kids for over 25 years, the only advice I can offer is to build that foundation of who and what you are. And gather the company of friends and family who can relish in - and openly celebrate - the other little Jim's this may be happening to everyday.

James' first, famous-person same sex crushes:
Donny Osmond & Barry Williams (Greg Brady, "The Brady Bunch")
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Jakub

Jakub, age 11
Wielkopolska, Poland (1992)

I remember as a kid, that I was different in every way. I didn't care about playing football, fighting, cars, or other typical "boy" things etc.


Instead, I was obsessed with Madonna and dancing and singing. I discovered myself as gay around 11. I love this pic, because it reflects my mood at that time.

At school, I was both loved and hated. I was crazy about Madonna's "Erotica" album back then. Madonna was, and is still is, very important to me. She is like my 2nd mother.

I came out in 2003, 11 years after this pic. I was inspired to do it by my boyfriend, so I wrote about it in a letter to my mother. My boyfriend and I are still together, we have a great home, and a lot of love.

My message to all is:
Be yourself, no matter what they say. Express your love to the world every day!

Jakub's first, famous-person same sex crush:
Brad Pitt (in "Thelma & Louise")
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Transitions to Adulthood in Europe (European Studies of Population, Volume 10)Stealth

February 12, 2011

Jason

Jason, age 11
Saint Paul, Minnesota (1984)

When I look at this picture, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh for the young, spirited grade school kid that found tremendous joy in wearing his Granny’s wigs. Or, cry for the young kid who grew up with little joy in his spirit.

I always knew I was "different" but was never able to make the connection as to what that difference was. Everyone else apparently knew; I heard it in the halls, the schoolyard, and in the lunchroom.

From grade school on into high school,
it was the same four perjoratives: "girl," "sissy," "wuss" - and the dreaded "F" word. Eventually, that's what "different" meant to me.   

I always made promises to myself:
If I could just have more boys as friends, then I wouldn’t feel different. If I could just stop wearing Granny’s wigs, then I wouldn’t feel different. If I could just hold my breath underwater for 20 minutes, then I wouldn’t feel different.

But I didn’t, I wouldn’t, and I still can't. Yet somehow, sometimes even still to my amazement, I carried on, knowing that someday I'd redefine my "different."

And eventually, after finally coming out, I did. My adult life as a gay individual has been filled with awakenings and wonderment. Friendship and merriment. "Different" has now translated to "special" and "unique." "Different" now means "fascinating" and "exceptional." And my spirit is filled with joy beyond measure.
I can’t imagine my life any other way.

I wish I could go back, if only for a moment, and reach out to the young version of myself. To tell him things will turn out just fine. That his sadness will be replaced with blessings exceeding his wildest dreams. That "different" was just a nine letter word that set him apart from others. That the only thing "different" now - is the difference he’ll make in other people's lives.

And more importantly, that his wigs will eventually get much more fabulous.

My message to any youngster that feels "different" is simple:
You will survive. You will rise above. You will be fantastic.

And you will redefine your "different" too!
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Tammy

Tammy, age 9
Jamestown, TN (1975)  



That's me, in the hawt red halter top, with my baby brother and older sister.

In retrospect, I knew I was a lesbian by the time I was age 4.

People who say gayness is a "choice" make me laugh and gag simultaneously.

I mean, my God.
Look at me at age 9!


This was also around the time that I jumped off a short flight of concrete steps at my church to impress Greta, a Bible-school classmate. Yes, I remember her name. How could I not? I survived. I doubt I changed Greta's heterosexual orientation. After all, she was BORN THAT WAY.

Today, I'm a sporty dyke, and happy and content with my orientation.
And I love your blog.