Mike

Mike, age 8

Houston, Texas (1991)

One of these boys is not like the other...

"And the Rainbow Badge Goes To...."

With my red hair, pale skin, and delicate features, there's some rage detected in my face. Juxtaposed against these smiling, eager-eyed, young Scouts, it was due to the fact that I didn't want sun damage to cause wrinkles for me later in life.

I obviously took the time to make sure that I had socks to match my kerchief. And my shirt was nice and starched, and I was also well aware that the fashion trend of acid-washed jeans was headed out the door.

While the other boys slouched and sat in poor posture, I sat demure. It's as if I were a Victorian lady, awaiting a parasol and lace gloves to cover my dainty hands. I took the time to be fabulous, while no one else had. For this, I was not having being a Boy Scout.

The irony that a young gay boy wouldn't find Boy Scout meetings to be a safe haven from the outside world seems funny to me now. Themed outfits, arts and crafts, and plenty of opportunities to work out with other guys? All of these STILL being my favorite things to do now.

I looked at The Boy Scouts of America website, and looked at reasons why you should enroll your kid into the Scouts. It states this:

"Scouting provides youth with a sense that they are important as individuals.
It is communicated to them that those in the Scouting family care about what happens to them, regardless of whether a game is won or lost"

For the young and old gays alike out there, that feel as if they have lost this game of life? My message is: Don't give up.

For those who are stuck in Scouts because their parents feel like they should be doing what the "other boys" do, I would ask that they stick it out. But always make sure you stay fabulous doing so.

It sounds cliche' saying that time heals all wounds, but it does.... Scouts honor.

Enzo

Enzo, age 2

Baltimore, Maryland (1967)

This photo was taken behind my grandmother's townhouse in East Baltimore. Obviously, I saw women pose this way for photos, and just assumed I was supposed to do the same thing.  I don't think I had a sense of femininity yet, clearly from what I'm doing with my mouth!

We were a big Sicilian family and my relatives lived across the street. When I was 3, we moved to rural Michigan and my life turned to hell.

But I always spent summers on that same block, and it was my world, my own Sesame Street.

An Uncle of mine died just before I was born, and he was all anyone spoke about.


He'd become a fairly famous songwriter, and I knew at 3 he was gay. Or rather, that he was like me, but I had no idea it had anything to do with sex. 

I was aware of gay men whenever I saw them, because they were nothing like my uncles. They didn't have women telling them what to do, and they were fun to be around. And they'd ALL been to Europe, or said they had. That was all I wanted out of life, and I wrote an essay in 2nd grade about how I wanted to be "queer" when I grew up.

Queer was the only word I knew for it, and had no idea it would be a problem. But when I read the essay in class, my mom was called into school. If anything,
I thought gays were superior. But I also knew stupid people made fun of them.

Looking at this photo now reminds me that as a child, men seemed peripheral and irrelevant. They were always somewhere else, doing something that didn't seem to matter much.

TV was the same: Men worked in suits and were boring and tried to hold back. The women were clearly smarter and more clever in every way.

Thus, I identified with women (and later gay men) as being the road to my independence. Even today I am still uncomfortable in all-homogenous groups, especially all-gay or all-white. 

Currently, I've been married almost 12 years. And I write & perform plays about my background. And today's kids seem to relate more than people my own age.
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

Frank

Frank, age 6

El Paso, TX (1990)

I grew up in a Christian home. My mother always gave us the best of the best,
at least to me, and she always worked hard to make sure we didn't lack anything. I'm the youngest of 7 kids, and there's 7 years between my next older sibling.
So that's probably why I was a bit spoiled.

At age 8, I got involved with the Royal Rangers, the church version of the Boy Scouts.

It was there I realized that I was different, but my feelings were confirmed later that year at a summer camp. 

One night I had my first encounter when I was kissed on the lips by my tent partner. He was a boy who, in my opinion, acted quite girly.

For years I prayed to be rid of the feelings I had, but my prayers were never answered. Therefore I viewed it as just being born this way.



A weekend visit to my mother's house from college was the time that I came out to her. Scared that she would react otherwise, she said, "I always knew you were different. But regardless, you'll always be my little boy." To hear that has given me great courage in life.

I was later in my first relationship, which was extremely abusive. But 4 years later and 1100 miles from home, I decided I didn't want to be beaten anymore.
So I ended the relationship.

Two years later, I found a wonderful guy who I'm now married to, and I couldn’t be happier. Funny to mention, but many people tell me that if I didn't tell them I was gay, they wouldn't have figured it out.

One thing that I would like to tell any young person out there:

Live for today, and don't worry about tomorrow.
When you start regretting your past, then that's when you stop living.

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Kris

Kris, age 8

Farmington, NY (1980)

Picture it: It's 1980, and I'm 8. The hip was cocked, torso slightly turned, hands out, and streamers attached. The boy was ready to show the world his baton!!!

A lot of water has crossed under the bridge. A lot of baggage has been carried. And as I near the age of 40, I'm finally starting to feel some relief.

Success is not measured by what you posses, but rather by what you have thrown away as no longer needed.

I look at this pic and see so much innocence, just being me.

I reflect on all the years after this picture was taken, and can say it wasn't long after that the innocence was stripped away. 


Other boys were normal. Other families were happy. But I was tossed aside. Where is that smiling baton boy?

Today, I have a choice. A choice to say that they can't hurt me anymore.
Today, I'm free! Today, I smile again.

For the youth of today and tomorrow:
Hold on tight and NEVER let go. Never forget that you will smile again, too.

Alex

Alex, age 4

Ames, IA (1976)

That's me in the green footie pajamas, kissing another boy.

I've always loved this photo, and I refer to it as "mom's first clue".

I have a very clear memory of being a young child and telling someone:

"God made a mistake.
I should have been born a girl."

What makes a child say something like that?


I guess it's that I've always known there was something different about me,
and those were the only words I had to express it at the time.

I was a bit of a troublemaker as a teen, always getting into trouble. I once read a quote from a gay writer (I can't remember his name, sadly) that perfectly summed up my teen years.

He said that until he accepted his difference on the inside, he wore it on the outside. And that was me to a T. I fought that difference, literally, always running from the truth in the mirror.

And then - I found the theatre. Acting. Directing. Writing plays. The ways that it saved me can't begin to be counted. It gave me a space to be me, without fear. Rather ironic, given that I was constantly being anyone BUT myself on stage.

I had a single mom that figured me out early in my teens, and fished around for it until I told her when I was 21. It wasn't until I saw how hard others had it, that
I TRULY appreciated how valuable that unconditional love really was.

I only wish I hadn't spent so much time afraid to admit to myself who I was.
I certainly had no reason to be afraid. At least not with my mom.

For those of you with perhaps less supportive parents or family? Hang on!
There's a whole world out there ready to love you. And YOU get the power one day to define who and what your family is, and who belongs in it.

It's pretty awesome. Honest.

Today, I'm legally married to my husband and we're looking into adoption.
I could never have pictured this future, as that confused teenager.

So please hang on to see where your story goes. I bet it will be amazing.
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Steve

Steve, age 3

Rochester, NY (1957)

I don't remember this Halloween at all, and can't imagine why my mother would put me in my sister's dress like that. But it was some foreshadowing, for sure.

I think I knew I had feelings for men around age 8. I liked my male teachers much better than the women. Not having a father figure made me look elsewhere for that male companionship.

At 12, I felt much more mature than other guys my age. I had major crushes on all cute boys, and many of the pop culture icons of the day.



The only movie images of gay men in the late 60's and early 70's were either evil villains who had to be killed, or swishing effeminate guys who were jokes. So I hid out, deep in the closet. From around age 13 to 16, I knew for certain I was different, and dreaded being gay and outed.

I only dared to have sex very discreetly, while keeping up the image of an All-American, straight jock. It wasn't till college that I really explored gay life in NYC, which then meant horrid gay-theater encounters and other closeted men.

I moved to San Francisco in 1978, and that finally allowed me to re-invent myself as a gay man. Since then I've blossomed into the person I wanted to be.

Gay youth today have it infinitely better than my generation did.
And they should take every advantage of the groundwork we laid for them.

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

Bobby Sherman (singer/actor)