Jared

Jared, age 4
Williamson, Georgia (1991) 

This photo is me doing what I'm told was one of my favorite activities, which was wearing a pair of my mom's sensible flats and pretending to vacuum the house.

Looking back on my photos, I have memories of doing lots of things that I would consider really flamboyant and telling. But at the time, I was just being me.

I started becoming aware of just how different I was when I started school at age 5, and I learned to tone it way down. Once I hit puberty, I really figured out what was going on. And I waited way too long to come out to my family, but I finally did it after I finished college.

With coming out, I have received nothing, NOTHING, but all the love and support of my parents, my brother, cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles - and even my recently-turned 99 great-grandmother. And all this from some small town Georgians, too!

Today, I am out, proud and loving life. And I'm engaged to the sweetest, best guy anyone could ever hope to meet, a happy fate I never believed would be mine.

Here I am, and I couldn't be happier! So my advice to those today is:
Just be yourself and great things will come your way.
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
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Mark

Mark, age 10
Rockland, Massachusetts (1971)

This gem of a photo is me with my sisters, Sue and Maureen - with their fabulous Carol Brady shag haircuts - jealous! I violated the 'prints and stripes' rule of fashion because I could not decide between my favorite shirt and favorite pants at the time. Of course, my older sister Maureen said, "They don’t match!"

I have tried to pinpoint when I knew I was gay, but it's lost in a clutter of memories. Some go back to when I was around age five taking a bath, when my older brothers needed to pee standing at the toilet. Even then it was all I could do not to peek, and I remember being chastised for getting caught trying to look.

I was always concerned about my appearance and loved my stylish clothes, especially if I could convince my mother to buy me what I wanted rather than what she wanted. I usually got one or two choice "pieces" each year. And all my lime green, zip mock turtlenecks and purple paisley dress shirts stood out like a vintage fashion show in our family photos.

I was taunted and teased for being a sissy and faggot for most of my childhood. But I had a wonderful support system at home, with loving parents and sisters who ignored my uniqueness and who loved me for being me.

My mother was always supportive. Always. While my father would cast a disapproving eye most of the time, he never ever said anything that made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

I came out formally to my parents when I was 21, but it was a non news event since they knew I was born this way. Today, my sisters are still my best friends.

When I see kids today that remind me of me at that age, I always let them know
I think they are fabulous and fierce and to keep up the good work. I had a few adults who encouraged me like that, and thinking back I can still remember those few kind words of support.

 40 years later, that kind of encouragement still makes a big difference.
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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Michelle

Michelle, age 4 

Flamborough, N. Yorkshire, England (1971)

I'm pictured on the right with my sister Louise. This photo was taken a few months after I'd chopped the left hand side of my hair off. It was really long and I wanted it short! My father said a big fat "No!" to that idea, as he preferred girls to have long hair.

So at the age of 4 I took matters into my own hands and cut it. I stood on a chair at the kitchen sink and proceeded to cut away, only to be discovered by my mum!

As she walked in I was trying to wash the evidence down the sink, as if it wasn't obvious! So my mum decided all she could do was to cut more to even it all up.


Then my father walked in. And oh my God, he went ballistic and thought mum was the one who'd initiated said chopping.

I hasten to add that I had to wait another 12 years before I got my way and had it cut lovely and short, and not looking like some strange bob cut.

Even at age 4 I preferred boys' toys, wanting short hair, climbing trees, and when I had the chance, wearing trousers. My parents never stopped me in those activities, and they even made me a fort with painted toy solders to go with it. 

I even remember fetching some dolls to bring to school so my friend Steve could play with them. And Steve would fetch his big red truck for me to play with. 

So I guess he was my first gay friend. Sadly, I changed schools and we lost touch. 
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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Luke

Luke, age 5
Liverpool, Pennsylvania (1989)

For a long time, being gay wasn't even about me. I know it should have been, but being gay was about proving the jerks at school right, or possibly alienating or disappointing family. And, in a way, giving up power to every person I met who might find out and use it against me.

I can remember my first crushes being Christian Bale in "Newsies" and Neil Patrick Harris as Doogie Howser. I imagined what it would be like to go to high school in California, with the hopes they would date me.

And I remember the nights my mom and I snuck away to her office to watch TV shows my dad didn't watch. We both saw Ellen Degeneres stand in front of millions of people and say the words I could not. But I thought, 'God, if she can do that, surely some day I can at least say those words to my mom.' It would be another decade before that would happen.

Growing up in a small town - the only county in PA without a traffic light - wasn't exactly the most open-minded experience. And, despite my parents being among the most liberal adults in the county, being gay just wasn't an option.

It wasn't something I often saw hated-on publicly, but then again no one ever came out in my school or town. So it was more like gay people didn't exist, or shouldn't exist.

Yet, I didn't let that stop me. I always pursued being in the band, choir, and theatre - despite the association and being called "faggot, gay-bait, homo."

My only regret over the last 28 years, is how long I waited to be me. I spent the first quarter of my life victimizing myself by letting other people's opinions dictate who I was. Luckily, I stuck it out and life got much, much better!
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Editor's note:
Just as I was posting Luke's story, I noticed the visitor counter number!
So today's post is just 4,444,444 THANK YOU's to everyone here! :)

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

Jenn, age 8
Saigon, Vietnam (2002)

When I was younger, I didn't know what gay or lesbian was. But I definitely knew that I was nothing like the other girls. I hated dresses, make-up, and I was scared to hell of dolls. I played with all the boys and loved wearing boys' clothes.

It wasn't until I was in 2nd grade that I learned the words "gay" and "lesbian." And when it was explained to me what it all meant, I promised myself I would never be gay.

And I knew I would never let anyone label me as something that was seen as repulsive in the eyes of the world.

Everywhere I went, being gay was associated with something bad. At home and at school, the words "fag," "gay," "lesbian," etc, were taboo.

So I was convinced very early on that liking women was a sin.

By middle school, I had grown out my hair, dressed a little more girly, and started hanging around more girls. I tucked my true self away, and somewhere down the road I lost who I was. I soon realized that eventually I had to be truthful to myself and just admit it - I am a lesbian!

I became very proud of who I am, and I told myself that if people couldn't accept me as I am, then they didn't deserve a place in my life. So I slowly started to come out to my close friends first, and only a few family members knew. In my final year of high school, I became an advocate for diversity among the students there.

I am still in the process of coming out, mainly to my family. I know now that I have always been gay, and there is no way for me to change that. I am proud to finally be true to myself.

At the end of it all, whichever path you may choose, remember that there's no path greater than just being yourself.
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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Ross

Ross, age 4 
Chester Springs, Pennsylvania (1974)

The outfit I'm wearing here is a credit to my mom. She had panache with a sewing machine and would dress my sister and me in coordinated outfits.

Even as a toddler, I had a penchant for flashy clothes (and occasionally, dresses), dolls, and crying during broadcasts of “The Wizard of Oz.”

I also pantomimed selections from my favorite Rosemary Clooney children’s album. These were habits my mom was more tolerant of than my dad.

I didn’t exactly get free reign, but my parents rarely scolded me for my gender non-conformity. And I never felt “different” from the other kids until I was much older.

I mostly taught myself to conform to what boys were supposed to be like and, later in middle school, to suppress my feelings in an attempt to fit in.

It wasn’t until I was in my 20's that I began to accept myself.
And even then, it took a lot of effort to relax and be authentic.

Today, as a 40-something, this little guy’s wide-open enthusiasm is an inspiration to me. I want to be just like him.
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Click here - "Born This Way: Real Stories of Growing Up Gay" book
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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