Growing Up in a Small Town…

May 21st, 2010 03:21 AM By Liz

I came out of the closet when I was 16 – (I’m now 26). Of course, being that young I never knew what consequences my actions would hold- especially for my father. I lived in small town – ok not really small, but tiny! My graduating class had 32 kids in it and most of us had been going to school together since birth.

I suppose it was a shock to some that I was gay, but for the longest time I was secretly tormented. While my friends were checking out guys, I was checking out girls. Anyone whose gone through this knows how painful it is to pretend you’re something that you’re not.

Finally, when my sophomore year came around I had enough. A girl that I always liked show interested so…I went for it knowing that if anyone found out my social life, academic progress and my athletic hopes would all be jeopardized. Of course, the entire school found out.

I wasn’t embarrassed, I was scared. I tried to go on like nothing happened but the teachers, especially the principal, wouldn’t allow that. Every week principal O (we’ll call him that) would call me into his office for a drilling session. He would ask me personal, and most of the times embarrassing, questions that I would have to answer or else I would get treated by the staff like I had the plague.

Sometimes, principal O would even issue me detentions for being “non-complainant”. My senior year alone I had 10 detentions and 2 in school suspensions. I was not a discipline case. Luckily, I had a great group of friends they never turned their back on me and accepted me even if they didn’t understand it.

The worse came my senior year in high school. I was at home one rainy night when there was a knock at the door. I answered it and was in shock to find a preacher and 3 of his female followers. They talked with my dad, telling him I was a mortal sinner and family services were going to be called unless he “made a drastic decision to push me against my will to be straight and send me to church so I may be saved and live in Gods light” – (yes that’s a direct quote).

Even though at the time my dad didn’t understand my decisions – or even accept my lifestyle – he stood up for me, telling them he loved me and no one could take that away. He pushed them out of the house saying hell would rain down before he forces me into a LIE.

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I Give a Damn!!!

May 12th, 2010 06:23 PM By Kelley

I Give a Damn because…

I’ve always be very open minded and very out about my feelings and sexuality. I came out of the closest to my mother at the age of 16. She was understanding and very happy that I could be myself with her. But, it was shortly after I came out that my best friend came out of the closet to his parents and friends.

While I was blessed with a very understanding mother, he wasn’t as lucky. We had always talked about the days when could be open to everyone we loved and not be judged. At 16, we thought we knew everything, but we didn’t. His mother took on the role of “saving” her gay son and bringing him back to the side she believed was right. She pushed, prodded, set him up on blind dates with local church girls and even went as far as forcing him into therapy.

He would escape out his window every night, and come to his “safe place”…my window. He knew he would never be judged inside my house.

But as time grew on he grew more and more tired. The nagging and pushing grew worse. We’d sit nights with him curled in my bed and the both of us in a puddle of tears asking: Why?…Why?

He finally caved, and took his own life only 8 short months after coming out.

I lost my best friend that day.

It was a loss I will never forget for 2 reasons: One, because it hurt to lose my best friend. And, because I was not allowed to pay my last respects to someone I loved. His mother would not allow me at his wake or funeral.

“Your kind is not allowed. Your the reason he is dead…”

I still sit and think from time to time of those words…and I think the same thing every time:

“He’s not dead because of me. He’s dead because you didn’t give a damn.”

That’s why I give a Damn!

Love is equal and nobody should be pushed into something they are not. They should not be scared or tortured or tormented because of there sexuality. They should be loved for who they are.

Its Time to End the Pain

Apr 04th, 2010 01:18 PM By Robert

I grew up in a fairly conservative Christian household. When I came to recognize my gay identity, my first reaction was to bury it as deep as I could. I told myself that it was just a phase, I just needed to find the right girl, I couldn’t be gay. As time passed and my feelings didn’t seem to change, I started to become angry.

Initially, I was angry at myself. I couldn’t understand why I had these feelings and my instinct was to pray about it. I was taught that homosexuality was a sin. I asked God to help me change, but He never did. In time, I became angry with God. I asked why He would make me gay when it was detestable to Him. My anger led me down a path of skepticism and finally atheism.

At that point in my life, I wasn’t out to a soul. I was still trying to bury it deeply, still trying to find the right one who would snap me out of it. To prevent others from stumbling onto my secret, I began distancing myself from everyone. Soon I had no friends to speak of and my relationships with my family was rocky. I became depressed, but I had no one to turn to.

Over time the depression deepened. I started to have suicidal thoughts all the time. I would pass over a bridge and imagine how easy it would be to drive off it and end everything. I would walk under a power line and imagine how painful it would be if the lines would fall on me.

There was a lot going on in my life at the time. The secrecy and denial, however, had forced everyone in my support group away. I could not turn to friends, family or God for help. I felt completely alone and that made me even more vulnerable. Fortunately, about this time I found a new spiritual path. I discovered a congregation that was supportive of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) people and very slowly began to rebuild my spiritual base. With this support, I was able to connect to a psychotherapist who helped me through the depression, but I still couldn’t talk about my sexuality. It was still too deeply hidden, I still was convinced that it needed to change.

As my spiritual foundation grew, I came to realize that God hadn’t changed me, because there was nothing wrong with me to begin with. I finally began to accept myself as a gay man and in time came out to my friends and family. Religion is a double-edged sword in my life. It has, probably literally, saved my life. At the same time, it is a weapon used by my family members against me.

It is time for our religious communities to wake up and realize that God loves all people, not in spite of who we are, but rather because of who we are. It is time for the religious community to realize the tremendous harm they are causing people by their condemnations. It is time for supportive faiths and congregations to became way more vocal so that if nothing else, LGBT people know they have a place to call home and build a spiritual foundation. I give a damn, because people’s lives literally depend on this.

People Are People

Apr 04th, 2010 12:24 PM By Melissa

I feel fortunate to have been brought up in a home where there was no “black and white” and no “gay and straight”…we were just people.

I have family members who are lesbian, friends who are gay, and students (I used to work at the local school) who felt comfortable coming to me to discuss their sexual identity issues above everyone else. I’m glad of that and so incredibly happy that I have these people in my life!

My family, friends, and yes, my former students, enrich my life and remind me every day that “people are people.” Now, I am a parent and my children are learning that there is no reason to shun someone for any reason. We’re not in control of the color of skin we’re born with, the sexuality we’re born with, or the color of the eyes we’re born with…we just are, and God doesn’t make mistakes…so no one is better than another.

People are people.

Serona, The Girl Who Gave A Damn

Apr 04th, 2010 12:06 PM By STEVEN

I grew up in a neighborhood in the 70’s when discrimination first reared it’s ugly head. As a kid my earliest memories were being care free, having fun and making everyone happy in my little world. At an early age the dark cloud of judgment was cast upon me because I was told that I screamed like a girl and in other words was “light in the loafers.”

Closed minded people made me realize that life was not as innocent and perfect as I thought it was. This was not an easy time for me and thinking about it now as an adult, it truly upsets me that other children are frowned upon and treated like outcasts. They are so young they can barely defend themselves. Children who go through that!! God I feel sorry for them.

I was lucky enough to have a best friend a few years older than me. Her name was Serona and she was a beautiful African American girl who unfortunately had sickle cell and a heart disorder. She was told that she would not live past thirty. Serona did not have an easy life, but she had a gift. She had humor, insight and compassion, and most of all heart. Serona was one of my first heroines that gave meaning to “Give A Damn.”

As young teenagers she urged me to protest with her for equal rights in San Francisco. Not long after we became precinct leaders for the Democratic Campaign for president. To make a long story short, I am so thankful for having a friend to help me feel comfortable in my own skin and am so grateful that I got a chance to know her for teaching me that even as a kid I can be proud of myself and stand up for what I believe in.

My First and Best Friend Dusty

Mar 28th, 2010 09:39 AM By Mikey

We met – my first and best friend Dusty and I – at a day care center in Baltimore. The year was 1985; we were 4 years old.

Pushed together like two pieces of puzzle, we instantly bonded over our similarities – fiery red hair, teenage mothers, a passion for Care Bears and their Cousins. We had something else in common, too – a shared secret that neither one of us would know about ourselves until much later and about each other until it was too late.

Dusty and I remained close friends even after I had moved to another county, another school in 1988. Our parents had become friends because of us, so we saw each other regularly with play dates and sleepovers until we hit puberty. It was about that time that we lost touch. Our lives had become fuller – after-school activities, adolescent dating, life in general had consumed our time – and slowly we drifted apart.

A few years passed without any contact before we ran into each other at the mall near my new home. I didn’t recognize him at first, but a few more seconds in his blue-green eyes erased the shaggy hair, the premature stubble, the inner angst, to reveal the little boy I fell in love with long ago.

We briefly regained contact that summer – I was a rising sophomore in high school then – by exchanging letters and the occasional phone call. But, as we had before, we allowed the lines of communication to disconnect to concentrate on more important things, like becoming men.

While Dusty was always in the back of my mind, life continued. I graduated with honors from high school and started my freshman year at a small private college in southwest Virginia. I hadn’t heard from him in about three years by that time – the longest we’d ever sacrificed our friendship.

Sadly, I would never hear from him again.
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