Michael

Michael, age 2

Poughkeepsie, NY (1989)

I don't remember when this picture was taken, but I know the expression.
It's one worn by all of the women in my mother's family whenever one has her picture taken. It also shows hints of the diva lurking underneath, waiting to burst forth in the years to come.

I was born and raised in the same town, but spent many holidays at my grandparents' in Connecticut.

I remember being told at 8 that I couldn't wear my grandmother's sundresses anymore, because they weren't for boys.

I loved them because they always twirled JUST RIGHT when I spun around in circles. 

On the other hand, my mother let me have Barbies when I was 10.


I think my mom knew before my father did, but neither was surprised when I came out to them at 20 and 21, respectively.

Compared to many other people here, I had it easy on the gay front. No one bothered me about it in school. While most of the taunting came about my weight, my friends and family have all been very accepting of my coming out process. I was also extremely luck to have an openly gay teacher in high school who helped guide me.

I will always be grateful that my mother and grandmother especially, taught me to never judge someone based on outward appearance or first impressions.
It is a lesson I took to heart.

The most important lesson my youth and coming out has taught me is that, yes, being gay is an important part of my life. But it does NOT define me. I am so much more than gay, and anyone who can't see past that one aspect of me isn't worth my time.

Stay strong, as there are people everywhere who love you and are there for you. And even if you feel alone, you are not.

Michael's first, famous-person same sex crush:
Harrison Ford ("Raiders Of The Lost Ark")

Dennis

Dennis, age 8

Natoma, Kansas (1966)

Summer of 1966 was my certain summer. That's me on the left and my cousin Ranny on the right. He was from the big city (Denver) and was spending the summer on our farm in western Kansas. This was a big deal for me, as I didn’t have many friends, and was already branded a sissy by my small town peers.

In the photo, I'm wearing my favorite shorts, cotton twill with an elastic waist.
They were so much more comfortable than cut-off jeans! Ranny had a similar pair, and one afternoon I told him, 'Wear your shorts with no underwear and meet me in the hayloft.' The love of being naked is one I have to this day

I don’t know how many times we revisited the hayloft, to just shed our clothes and revel in the air on our bodies. One time, I heard my mother calling as she was climbing the ladder! I hid behind the bales of hay, but she knew I was there, as my shorts were lying at her feet. Ranny just stood there, having wisely stayed in his clothes that day.

I slunk out, the guilty look on my face confirming everything. She hadn’t caught us doing anything, but she didn’t have to. She knew, all her fears realized. She marched me downstairs, refusing to let me get dressed. Pulling a leather strap from the tack room, she bent me over and whipped me, racked with sobbing.

That evening, my father had a quiet talk with me. Which was unusual, as he usually wielded the belt and my mother did the talking. I'm sure he thought he had the most difficult task that day.

Ranny and I never talked about it. I don't know if he turned out to be gay, as he was killed in a car wreck at 16.

After that, I realized that the things kids had called me and what I was feeling were connected. And my parents had just confirmed what I already knew: that I had to keep it a dirty secret. I tamped it down by being the best little boy I could. Though not too good, lest I draw attention to myself.

In high school I sought refuge in the church, but by my senior year realized I was just running away from the obvious. One more year and I could be free!
I dumped the church and started looking for colleges with gay student groups.

Today, my mother still won't talk to me about my sexuality.
She says she'd be just as uncomfortable talking to my brother about his marriage.

Dennis' first, famous-person same sex crush:

Doug McClure (in "The Virginian")
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Diana

Diana, age 4

Verona, Italy (1980)

In this photo, I'm trying to ride my father's Vespa. Needless to say, I still ride motorcycles today!

I have always been a tomboy, and luckily my parents didn't do anything to change that. They let me dress up as Zorro, a cowboy or even a G.I. during Carnival celebrations. Nope, no little princess dresses for me!

I have always had crushes on female celebrities, and was absolutely enlightened by the Madonna concert I saw on TV in 1987. But I didn't start dating girls until after I was age 18.

My message for gay kids today is:

Being gay is amazing! I thank my genes every day.
Just be authentic, and people will love you in spite of their prejudice.
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Matt

Matt, age 7

Southington, Connecticut (1987)

Always an over-achiever, I can be seen here demonstrating not one but two simultaneous limp wrists. The fabulousness has clearly blinded my brother.

Even at this age, I would tell other kids that I was gay. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was bad and won me lots of attention. The fact that it got me negative attention didn't matter.

Around age 15, I realized, 'Oh, wait -- I really AM gay.'
And typical teen angst ensued.

For a while, I just wanted to hide from it. But that 7-year-old pride parade in my heart couldn't be stifled. And by 11th grade, I'd made a promise to myself that if anyone asked, I'd be honest.

Unfortunately, my schoolmates decided that the gym-class locker room would be the time that they'd asked me.

"Why do you wear nail polish?'" someone demanded.
"Ummmmm," I said.
"Are you gay?"
"Uh ... yes, but that's not why."

I think this particular nuance was lost in the ensuing bedlam. But I was actually pretty lucky, as there was minimal physical violence after that, and nothing bad enough to leave a mark. And my family and friends have been very supportive.

These days, my husband and I have been together for 10 years, and my parents, my brother, his wife, and the entire clan all welcome and love him.

And that little 7-year-old is still running around inside me, telling everyone that I'm gay with absolutely no reservations.

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

Dean Cain (on "Lois & Clark")

Guy

Guy, age 8

Eugene, Oregon (1970)

I really liked to be dressed up, and I hated pullover shirts. Everything had to "match" and I loved to wear ties. Those might have been early clues.

My first crush was on Max, a boy in the 1st grade with me.
He moved away before our second year of school, and I still don't think I'm over him.

My TV crushes included James West and Artemus Gordon from "The Wild, Wild West" and both Batman and Maxwell Smart also caught my eye.

I remember things like wanting an Easy-Bake Bake Oven, playing with my sisters' Barbie's high heels, and my oldest sister telling me not to "flap my wings" when I ran. Plus, being very curious about what other boys looked like naked.

I also liked bubble baths, short-shorts, and being the Mom whenever we played house. I don't think I wanted to be a girl; I just wanted to do the things girls got to do, and be pretty.

I also have a sister who is gay. When she was about 9 and I was 5, I dressed up as a princess on Halloween, and she went as a pirate.

My coming out was considerably delayed by an unfortunate obsession I had with Anita Bryant. I'd carried her records with me to nursery school & kindergarten. Plus, she was very glamorous and reminded me of my Mom. But her campaign against gay rights the year I turned 15 was upsetting, so I certainly didn't want to be someone Anita didn't like.

It took me until I was 22 to come out - way after everyone else already knew I was gay, including my parents.

Guy's first, famous-person same sex crush:
Mickey Dolenz ("The Monkees")
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May

May, age 12

Cape Cod, Massachusetts (2000)

This is the picture I clutched sitting at the local, gay community support group meeting for female-to-male trans men (FTMs). I'm on the far right, at a church retreat with my best girlfriends. I'm wearing the boys' jeans and flannel shirt that I begged my mother to buy me, and which I continue to purchase now as a gainfully employed lesbian grown-up.

When I first put on those jeans and cut my hair during college, my sense of relief was so palpable, I thought:

'God, this is what I’ve always wanted, and what I've always been.'



But I'd like to contribute to this blog by criticizing my own first thoughts, and ask: 'What is the what that any of us have always been?'  A lesbian now, an FTM in the past? I can't identify anyone but a contemplative kid in this picture.

I came to the FTM meeting hoping to find similar pictures. The theme of the night was, "The Way We Were: What We Were Like As Kids." Guys brought pictures of themselves in Halloween costumes, reading in a field, or standing proudly in front of a car wash. But I did not see other pictures of the awkward or trans kid I intended to show with my photo.

The guys didn’t necessarily want to talk about trans childhoods, either. Halfway through the session, the conversation stayed focused on a member's question about declaring himself as male or female on his work's health insurance form.

And I left the support group more confused than ever. I'd hoped the guys there might share stories like those I read of many FTMs, similar to my picture: stories of childhood "body dysphoria," "tomboyishness," and awkwardness in dresses.

Looking at our childhood pictures in search of who we are now, is a common practice in our "community" - and what a complicated community it is! It's a way for us to relate with each other and foster community. And this website is a marvelous case in point: 'You, too? That tomboy is what it means to be gay?'

But to me, being gay means we have the gift of thinking critically about gender role stereotypes. I don't want what was imposed on me repeated, when my mother and sister cornered me in the living room, yelling about the trans-related books I brought home. My sister said, 'May, you've always been a lesbian!
We've always known it! All of us!'

But who was she to know my experiences or my childhood desires to be a boy? Or understand the confusion I felt seeing my own reflection, or what it felt like to bind my chest, or have sex? I felt so confused that I couldn't put words to what I felt, and so how could she?

And if I don’t want others to impose stereotypes on me, how can I impose them on myself? I look at my childhood and consider: I am lesbian now, and I have been other things. I've been a kid (like many lesbians, FTMs, and even straight women), who wanted to be a boy. I have been trans. I have been something I didn't know.

Was I looking to my childhood photo for an answer because was I afraid of being trans, or being gay? Does our sense that it must be wrong now make us search for those reasons? The "It's nature" argument is fundamental to many of us, to explain ourselves to family, friends, and much of America. We can’t help it, and so we should be allowed to be who we are.

But shouldn't we be allowed to be whoever we want to be? Trans, a man, a woman, whoever we were, and whoever we are now? The ultimate sexual and gender freedom will involve the freedom to change.
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