Stuart

Stuart, age 6 
Shaker Heights, Ohio (1969) 

I've known I was different from the first moments of my self awareness. I came from a mixed marriage that turned into a violent household. My father's family was Jewish and I never felt that I was part of that community. I always felt safe with my mother's family, who lived in a small town in Central Ohio.

Until I was age 5, I was pretty much a rough and tumble boy.
I was obsessed with playing with cars, riding my bike, and doing everything else that boys did.

The only real love that I received was from Leatrice, a woman my father hired to help with house cleaning. I adored her, and she was my world.

My first inkling I was gay was around age 4, watching Batman and hoping his costume would rip open. I can't explain it, but each episode I hoped it would happen. Of course it never did, but I never stopped hoping.

I later found copies of my father's Playboy Magazines and tried to will myself to find those women attractive. But when we would be at a pool, I was obsessed with the men in their swim suits and seeing their chests.

I became very body conscious at a very young age, and became painfully shy around other guys. I was skinny and didn't like to fight. I hated gym class because I thought I would get a hard-on in the locker room and would be made fun of.

My home life was violent and unpredictable, and I had no safe haven.
And I was bullied in school. I was beaten up. And I was called a fag.

The "normal" people in suburban Ohio in those days did not acknowledge gay people. I had no mentor, no one to look to for guidance. I just wanted to die and be wiped from the face of the Earth, because I feared I would shame the family.

My coming out happened in January 1983. I saw that gay men were just like everyone else, and we were everywhere and doing everything that "normal" people did. And I also understood that when you hide who are you, you give total power to the negative people around you.

While it took me 20 years to get there - and everyone's journey is different - it was such a relief! And the reward? I made it. And I made my now-deceased parents both understand that they didn't "do this to me," but that I am who I am, and that I was born this way.

My partner and I have known each other for 32 years and we've been together for 16 years. And all of those years have been warm, loving, and supportive.

We live in amazing times, and its so good to be here and see how the world is getting better and better for LGBT people.
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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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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
Click here - "My First Gay Crush Blog"

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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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