I really enjoyed reading this next post from Greg in Boston. Greg has some very insightful opinions to offer on the LGBTQ community.
Name: Greg
Age: 21
Location: Boston, MA
BU '11
My name is Greg. I’m an undergrad at BU. I love chemistry and hope to do research in the field for the rest of my life. I’m applying for grad schools with the hope of getting into an organic chemistry program. I’ve learned a lot in college, but what inspires me to write today is not about what lessons I’ve learned, but is instead about what lesson so many of us have forgotten: Be yourself.
I understand that it can be quite difficult to deal with life as a homosexual in a mainly heterosexual society. When in the closet, we feel constantly tormented by the fact that we can never completely live up to the expectations society has for us. We are all molded with the idea, even at times indirectly, that homosexuality is something lowly, something we do not want to be. Even when we feel we can accept others who may identify with homosexuality, it takes a rather massive leap (or, at least it did for me) to accept ourselves in the same way.
Once we do come out of the closet, it is a rebellion against the constraints forced upon us our entire lives. This liberation allows us to finally be whoever we want to be. We can accept ourselves for who we really are.
However, after this epiphany, many tend to deny the beautiful opportunity that this act presents to us. Instead of accepting our freedom, all too often people will place themselves into another set of predetermined characteristics, into another closet, hiding behind the stereotypes with which a heteronormative society has branded us. We walk from one dark room into another, never letting the world see who we really are. Sure, some of us may naturally have some of the qualities that fit into the hetero view of homosexuality; however, it seems we either conform to the rest of the set or make hyperbole of the ones we have.
Of course, then another issue at the other end of the spectrum arises. I have more than once heard from many, including numerous other people in the glbtq category, that we must hold back, calm down, fall closer to the norm, in order to be accepted by society and gain equal standing, equal rights. I find this to be disappointing, not only because the idea itself is horrifying, but because it so often comes from homosexuals themselves. Here we have the same problem as before, but just in a different light: instead of trying to fit in with a heterosexual view of homosexuality, we try to fit back into heterosexual society altogether.
In both cases, we conform to the major views of society; each of us becomes someone we’re not. We’re treating ourselves like we’re simply pets of our country. It’s like we think that if we’re “well behaved” enough, we’ll get rights just like the rest of the people.
If, to get rights, I can’t be myself, then I’m not actually getting rights at all.
So, maybe we'll all come closer to acceptance, and to peace, if we really come out of hiding, express the way we feel, and show the world that we're actually just like everyone else: we're human.
Thanks! If anyone else would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your fist name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. All contact information will remain private and confidential.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
My Being Gay in Life
This week we have another amazing story. I'm really excited about this one because it shows just how much one active person can cram into a lifetime. This contributor also included some photos. Don't feel pressured to do the same in your posts, but if you want to, they are definitely a welcome addition!
I was born, 1952, to an average military family, Dad was Commander for Travis AFB. He died before I was born. Raised with just Mom and two older brothers. I knew I was different from them, but HOW different, not until much later in life. But, I was different, not the typical kid. While my brothers liked Basketball, I like Bicycles. When they liked Football, I liked Frisbee. When they liked Baseball, I liked skateboards. I loved the ocean, my family preferred skiing and mountains. At six, I also knew I liked boys, they liked girls. But I never manifested any of this openly. I grew up, was a good student, focused on college and a real professional job. I wanted to be an Oceanographer and Jacques Cousteau was my childhood hero. I graduated high school an average unobtrusive kid. Never got really bullied. Being the "non-athlete" I did get the usual as I was more the nerdish kid. But I KNEW I would be better than them for my brains so I ignored it. I went to University, U.C. Berkeley and got my degrees in Geology, Paleontology and Biology. I was so focused on school, I actually didn't pay attention to my primal drives. During this time, I did design, build and sail a 14 foot catamaran.
I graduated in 1975, on Dean's List, moved to Sacramento and started working on a teaching credential. I dropped that as the political climate and the environment for teachers in general was not as it was when I was a kid. But this was when I released my inner Gay. I went out, danced and then in December 1976, met my first love, my partner today of 33 years. We moved in together and in 1978, Mother's Day, we invited my mother and her boyfriend during all my childhood, to dinner at our house. This coming out was too much for them and I was soon "banished " from the family. Soon my next older brother would lose interest in Fraternal bonds. With that, my connections to family were gone. And that decision on my mother and his boyfriend's parts forever severed any interaction they would have with my future life's accomplishments. I felt it would be their loss, not mine. They said I would never amount to anything because I was gay. I confidently knew otherwise.
In 1980, I got my first real professional job as an engineer, soon working on developing Geothermal and natural gas resources for a state agency. I established a new royalty collection formula for the state which would net millions of dollars in natural gas well leases. I also came out to several good close coworkers with no repercussions on my working environment. I had a couple closet homophobes, but my work supporters put them in their place. They told me about this later. We all laughed.
During those first six months, I worked in Los Angeles and started hearing about "Gay Related Infectious Diseases or "GRID" for short. That soon morphed into AIDS. When I transferred to Sacramento, where my partner was living in our house, we attended the FIRST open medical conference on GRID/AIDS in Sacramento and immediately saw the gravity of this new illness. We both quickly got involved in the first Sacramento AIDS Foundation, my partner beginning the first group of patient counselors in Spring 1982. I was to go the second wave, but worked in a fund raising capacity. We worked with Shanti Project out of San Francisco, including Cleve Jones and others. Simultaneously with this activity, I began organizing the FIRST EVER AIDS bicycle fundraiser in the nation. This was in winter of 1982 and funding was not available for AIDS issues. I thought this ride would serve two purposes; raise money for AIDS services in Sacramento, and, the route being from Sacramento to San Francisco, make a statement of "bond" between our two cities. I got good support from fellow volunteers, but luke warm support from the Foundation Board. They were after bigger fish to fry like county funds. I was undeterred and by August 20, 1983, hosted and led the first ever AIDS fundraiser bike ride in California and the Nation. Three riders rode the Castro to Castro ride from Castro Way, Sacramento to go to the Castro Street Fair in San Francisco and a 4th rider, my partner, did a local 40 mile out and back ride. Only I made it to San Francisco. The two women who accompanied me, unfortunately suffered knee problems and had to turn back about 70 miles into the ride. Two days and 175 miles later, I arrived to 17,000 Castro Street Fair goers and my partner waiting for me in San Francisco with 4500 dollars in pledges to my name. The first AIDS bike ride was completed. History was made. We did volunteer work for the Foundation for several years. I also was involved in founding the first Lambda Community Center Gay, a community services center, in downtown. In 1986, I participated in Gay Games 2 in San Francisco. I managed to get silver in Triathlon. Also, during this time, I was building lutes and guitars and playing performances and was getting some local notoriety on TV for my art, being featured on our PBS station in a 20 minute segment on my skills. In a couple of years, I started gaining interest in antique bicycles and collecting and restoring them. Soon, TV was featuring me on this interest also. Within 5 years of collecting, 1988, I was featured in the first ever bicycle exhibit at the Sacramento History Center. The exhibit showcased 35 of my antique bicycles and some examples from the Schwinn bicycle company and Greg LeMond loaned his 1983 tour de France bike for my show, taking the entire second floor and first floor of the building. In 1989, I took my first Transcontinental bike ride across Europe on my 1886 gormully and Jeffrey high wheel (Ordinary) bicycle. With a group of 60 fellow riders, we rode across Europe. Mid way in the journey, I made an attempt to ride 200 miles in a day's time. I accomplished the feat and to my amazement was told I was the FIRST in modern times to attempt such a feat, this relayed to me by the nationaalfietsmuseum, a Dutch museum of bicycles and vintage cars. The proprietor is an authority on the subject of antique cycling in Europe. My record of 14.5 hrs for 213 miles still stands to this day. I returned to America, only to be invited to a ride across Japan on the same bike with 60 other high wheel riders. The trip was all expense paid so I couldn't refuse. We were featured on Japanese TV and news papers. Part of the trip was riding and racing at the Design Exposition in Nagoya, for four days. We weathered a Monsoon on one of those exhibition rides. I did get to fly the Gossomer Condor simulator while there; I could have flown that machine. Upon my return home from my one month's Japan journey, I received a letter from Australia, inviting me to race and make a record attempt on a 100 year old 100 mile record set by a local there. Off I went. I succeeded in breaking the old record set in 1886 with my 1886 bicycle in 1990, by 90 minutes, the new record being 7H 48 minutes for 100 hilly miles. 
I then followed up with a 545 mile very hilly ride on the bike around Tasmania. When I returned to America, I did the first EVER bicycle display in Towe Transportation Museum in Sacramento. Another first for me. I also did an exhibit at UC Davis as part of the Exhibit "The Bicycle, Form and Function" in winter 1990.
In the meantime I changed jobs and now was working for a new Agency, Cal EPA, as an Engineer, I worked with landfill design compliance and many other facets, using all my skills I learned in University from Biology, to Engineering, to Paleontology and Environmental Sciences. I hit the ground running, drafting a new set of composting regulations for state wide enforcement, cleaning up a huge file database, and immersing myself in, among other projects, an Environmental Impact Report on the building that would impact virtually EVERY person who would be working in the new building we were about to move into in 2000. The building, as designed, was in violation of a series of work conditions. I alerted the five unions, involved in my Agency, to this series of standards breaches and we forced the management to change everything in the building's 25 floors to be in compliance, from partition heights to cubicle sizes, to a bike commuter room that was too small, relative to the employee ratios of bike commuters and user allocations. I was also Shop Steward and key to many conditions being agreed to between the State management and the worker unions. As time passed, I wrote three professional papers on Paleontology, the only one ever written on this subject, all published in three major paleo-science journals in conjunction with my lecturing at Cal Tech, University of Arizona and University of Colorado. Simultaneously, I published a comprehensive guide on environmental restoration, which is currently being used in S. Korea, Mexico, Canada, China, Turkey, the Local county Agencies in California and several other states in the US and private consultants. It has appeared in Amazon books. I worked in a committee that laid the groundwork for regulatory standards for cruise ships and their wastes, air and water management.
In 2000, I published a paper on what may be the oldest pedal driven bicycle in existence in California, being built in 1838 or so. I presented a lecture in Muenster on the bicycle. In 2001, I worked in appraising a bicycle collection which led to a grant and funding to procure the collection for a Museum in conjunction with U.C. Davis. This laid the foundation for the California Bicycle Museum, in which I was a board member until recently when it integrated with the US National Cycling Hall of Fame. I am the only one who knows about these cycles. Because of my bicycle activities, I have been featured in: Bicycling Magazine, Sports Illustrated, Sacramento Magazine (twice), Sacramento Bee, Sacramento Union, several smaller local newspapers, Japanese and Australian newspapers and TV, local TV and Radio and The Wheelmen Magazine which is housed in the US Library of Congress, one of FEW publications retained in its original (paper) format. I have records on two continents and publications circulating worldwide and being used statewide. I recently retired and am now working on two patents, some music and an aircraft which I invented in 1968 and for which our technology has FINALLY caught up, so that I can build it.
My parents said in my being Gay, I would not amount to anything. I am proving them wrong in hexa-quadruplets. And THEY are missing out on all the fun. NEVER let ANYONE say being gay is a detriment, you will prove them wrong.
Thanks! If anyone else would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your first name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. All contact information will remain private and confidential.
I was born, 1952, to an average military family, Dad was Commander for Travis AFB. He died before I was born. Raised with just Mom and two older brothers. I knew I was different from them, but HOW different, not until much later in life. But, I was different, not the typical kid. While my brothers liked Basketball, I like Bicycles. When they liked Football, I liked Frisbee. When they liked Baseball, I liked skateboards. I loved the ocean, my family preferred skiing and mountains. At six, I also knew I liked boys, they liked girls. But I never manifested any of this openly. I grew up, was a good student, focused on college and a real professional job. I wanted to be an Oceanographer and Jacques Cousteau was my childhood hero. I graduated high school an average unobtrusive kid. Never got really bullied. Being the "non-athlete" I did get the usual as I was more the nerdish kid. But I KNEW I would be better than them for my brains so I ignored it. I went to University, U.C. Berkeley and got my degrees in Geology, Paleontology and Biology. I was so focused on school, I actually didn't pay attention to my primal drives. During this time, I did design, build and sail a 14 foot catamaran.
I graduated in 1975, on Dean's List, moved to Sacramento and started working on a teaching credential. I dropped that as the political climate and the environment for teachers in general was not as it was when I was a kid. But this was when I released my inner Gay. I went out, danced and then in December 1976, met my first love, my partner today of 33 years. We moved in together and in 1978, Mother's Day, we invited my mother and her boyfriend during all my childhood, to dinner at our house. This coming out was too much for them and I was soon "banished " from the family. Soon my next older brother would lose interest in Fraternal bonds. With that, my connections to family were gone. And that decision on my mother and his boyfriend's parts forever severed any interaction they would have with my future life's accomplishments. I felt it would be their loss, not mine. They said I would never amount to anything because I was gay. I confidently knew otherwise.In 1980, I got my first real professional job as an engineer, soon working on developing Geothermal and natural gas resources for a state agency. I established a new royalty collection formula for the state which would net millions of dollars in natural gas well leases. I also came out to several good close coworkers with no repercussions on my working environment. I had a couple closet homophobes, but my work supporters put them in their place. They told me about this later. We all laughed.
During those first six months, I worked in Los Angeles and started hearing about "Gay Related Infectious Diseases or "GRID" for short. That soon morphed into AIDS. When I transferred to Sacramento, where my partner was living in our house, we attended the FIRST open medical conference on GRID/AIDS in Sacramento and immediately saw the gravity of this new illness. We both quickly got involved in the first Sacramento AIDS Foundation, my partner beginning the first group of patient counselors in Spring 1982. I was to go the second wave, but worked in a fund raising capacity. We worked with Shanti Project out of San Francisco, including Cleve Jones and others. Simultaneously with this activity, I began organizing the FIRST EVER AIDS bicycle fundraiser in the nation. This was in winter of 1982 and funding was not available for AIDS issues. I thought this ride would serve two purposes; raise money for AIDS services in Sacramento, and, the route being from Sacramento to San Francisco, make a statement of "bond" between our two cities. I got good support from fellow volunteers, but luke warm support from the Foundation Board. They were after bigger fish to fry like county funds. I was undeterred and by August 20, 1983, hosted and led the first ever AIDS fundraiser bike ride in California and the Nation. Three riders rode the Castro to Castro ride from Castro Way, Sacramento to go to the Castro Street Fair in San Francisco and a 4th rider, my partner, did a local 40 mile out and back ride. Only I made it to San Francisco. The two women who accompanied me, unfortunately suffered knee problems and had to turn back about 70 miles into the ride. Two days and 175 miles later, I arrived to 17,000 Castro Street Fair goers and my partner waiting for me in San Francisco with 4500 dollars in pledges to my name. The first AIDS bike ride was completed. History was made. We did volunteer work for the Foundation for several years. I also was involved in founding the first Lambda Community Center Gay, a community services center, in downtown. In 1986, I participated in Gay Games 2 in San Francisco. I managed to get silver in Triathlon. Also, during this time, I was building lutes and guitars and playing performances and was getting some local notoriety on TV for my art, being featured on our PBS station in a 20 minute segment on my skills. In a couple of years, I started gaining interest in antique bicycles and collecting and restoring them. Soon, TV was featuring me on this interest also. Within 5 years of collecting, 1988, I was featured in the first ever bicycle exhibit at the Sacramento History Center. The exhibit showcased 35 of my antique bicycles and some examples from the Schwinn bicycle company and Greg LeMond loaned his 1983 tour de France bike for my show, taking the entire second floor and first floor of the building. In 1989, I took my first Transcontinental bike ride across Europe on my 1886 gormully and Jeffrey high wheel (Ordinary) bicycle. With a group of 60 fellow riders, we rode across Europe. Mid way in the journey, I made an attempt to ride 200 miles in a day's time. I accomplished the feat and to my amazement was told I was the FIRST in modern times to attempt such a feat, this relayed to me by the nationaalfietsmuseum, a Dutch museum of bicycles and vintage cars. The proprietor is an authority on the subject of antique cycling in Europe. My record of 14.5 hrs for 213 miles still stands to this day. I returned to America, only to be invited to a ride across Japan on the same bike with 60 other high wheel riders. The trip was all expense paid so I couldn't refuse. We were featured on Japanese TV and news papers. Part of the trip was riding and racing at the Design Exposition in Nagoya, for four days. We weathered a Monsoon on one of those exhibition rides. I did get to fly the Gossomer Condor simulator while there; I could have flown that machine. Upon my return home from my one month's Japan journey, I received a letter from Australia, inviting me to race and make a record attempt on a 100 year old 100 mile record set by a local there. Off I went. I succeeded in breaking the old record set in 1886 with my 1886 bicycle in 1990, by 90 minutes, the new record being 7H 48 minutes for 100 hilly miles. 
I then followed up with a 545 mile very hilly ride on the bike around Tasmania. When I returned to America, I did the first EVER bicycle display in Towe Transportation Museum in Sacramento. Another first for me. I also did an exhibit at UC Davis as part of the Exhibit "The Bicycle, Form and Function" in winter 1990.In the meantime I changed jobs and now was working for a new Agency, Cal EPA, as an Engineer, I worked with landfill design compliance and many other facets, using all my skills I learned in University from Biology, to Engineering, to Paleontology and Environmental Sciences. I hit the ground running, drafting a new set of composting regulations for state wide enforcement, cleaning up a huge file database, and immersing myself in, among other projects, an Environmental Impact Report on the building that would impact virtually EVERY person who would be working in the new building we were about to move into in 2000. The building, as designed, was in violation of a series of work conditions. I alerted the five unions, involved in my Agency, to this series of standards breaches and we forced the management to change everything in the building's 25 floors to be in compliance, from partition heights to cubicle sizes, to a bike commuter room that was too small, relative to the employee ratios of bike commuters and user allocations. I was also Shop Steward and key to many conditions being agreed to between the State management and the worker unions. As time passed, I wrote three professional papers on Paleontology, the only one ever written on this subject, all published in three major paleo-science journals in conjunction with my lecturing at Cal Tech, University of Arizona and University of Colorado. Simultaneously, I published a comprehensive guide on environmental restoration, which is currently being used in S. Korea, Mexico, Canada, China, Turkey, the Local county Agencies in California and several other states in the US and private consultants. It has appeared in Amazon books. I worked in a committee that laid the groundwork for regulatory standards for cruise ships and their wastes, air and water management.
In 2000, I published a paper on what may be the oldest pedal driven bicycle in existence in California, being built in 1838 or so. I presented a lecture in Muenster on the bicycle. In 2001, I worked in appraising a bicycle collection which led to a grant and funding to procure the collection for a Museum in conjunction with U.C. Davis. This laid the foundation for the California Bicycle Museum, in which I was a board member until recently when it integrated with the US National Cycling Hall of Fame. I am the only one who knows about these cycles. Because of my bicycle activities, I have been featured in: Bicycling Magazine, Sports Illustrated, Sacramento Magazine (twice), Sacramento Bee, Sacramento Union, several smaller local newspapers, Japanese and Australian newspapers and TV, local TV and Radio and The Wheelmen Magazine which is housed in the US Library of Congress, one of FEW publications retained in its original (paper) format. I have records on two continents and publications circulating worldwide and being used statewide. I recently retired and am now working on two patents, some music and an aircraft which I invented in 1968 and for which our technology has FINALLY caught up, so that I can build it.My parents said in my being Gay, I would not amount to anything. I am proving them wrong in hexa-quadruplets. And THEY are missing out on all the fun. NEVER let ANYONE say being gay is a detriment, you will prove them wrong.
Thanks! If anyone else would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your first name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. All contact information will remain private and confidential.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
A Gay in the Life of The Out Activist
This inspiring story comes to us from Bridget, in West Virginia. Bridget also calls herself The Out Activist, and uses the following as an introduction to her own blog. You can check it out by typing "The Out Activist" into your Facebook search bar.
I never intended to be an activist. I never intended to be gay. Now following up those statements, I think I should explain who I am and how I ended up here.
My name is Bridget. I am 33 years old, married (I use the term loosely and I will explain later), and have two children. I am a white, middle-class, Republican, Christian American living in the coal mining foothills of southern West Virginia. Oh yeah, and I am gay.
West Virginia is a Democratic state by nature. We have the oldest average age of residents in the US. Older than Florida. We have a population of less than 2 million and one of the lowest crime rates. Almost 75% of our state is covered by forest. That probably has something to do with that crime rate fact. 95% of the population is white. 65% of the residents are Protestant, 77% Christian. West Virginia is considered the southern most northern state and the northern most southern state. See, even my state is confused about its identity. These may seem like trivial facts but until eight years ago the most un-normal or out of line thing I did was vote Republican. Then along came a woman. Isn't that how all the good stories start?
I had lived the first 25 years of my life straight. Never even thought twice about it. I don't have some grand coming out story. I wasn't tortured in high school. My parents didn't disown me as a gay teenager. I had never really even thought about the gay community. There certainly are gay people in West Virginia but we don't seem to be as out here as other states. I met Nova, another straight chick, at work one day. I don't know if you can call it love at first sight but it seemed pretty damn close. Within one month we had gently removed the men from out of lives and were dating each other exclusively. Within two months we lived together. Yes, I know that sounds cliché lesbian but that was almost eight years ago and we are still kicking. During that dating time, we experienced hatred. We had our cars keyed, received hate mail, packages on our door step, threatening phone calls, and I even attribute the loss of a job to it. I unfortunately wasn't taking these experiences as a gay education. See, I considered myself an educated person already. I considered my family and friends to be educated as well. I thought these were just small town redneck moments. I didn't realize the prevalence of the hate. I didn't even realize I was about to get a real life education.
In 2004, I came across a website looking for couples to have a holy union ceremony as part of a gay pride event. Nova and I had been together two years. It seemed like it would be a nice display of love to one another. It was about to become a display of love to the country. I think the lack of legal marriage is cheapening the idea of commitment ceremonies. They are everywhere now. That wasn't the case in 2004. This pride event wanted to make a statement. They wanted a couple to show off and parade around. Several couples had stepped up but as the event drew near, fear kicked in, couples dropped out. Last man standing, we ended up becoming the defending voice of gay marriage at that event.
I don't consider protestors romantic. I wanted to hear piano music as I walked down the aisle. I heard banging. I wanted my family standing there for me. I had police officers trying to keep the doors from swinging open at the hands of protestors. I wanted friends taking my picture. I had news cameras. I wanted friends throwing rice. I had hundreds, maybe a thousand welcoming me as an angry mob with signs and shouts. That's the day I met Fred Phelps. If you don't know the name Google it.
In my small town this would have made national news. We weren't in West Virginia. This wasn't a small town. I didn't realize why this was news. People wanted to interview us. We weren't famous. I didn't think we were important. People have weddings every day. Why do I need to go on TV to explain this? I stood in front of the tv cameras. Don't let the emotions over run this. This is not personal. This people spewing hatred do not know me. I am a Christian. They are holding that same Bible I read. Those words aren't in it. Control the anger. Control the tears. I had read the Constitution. I am not breaking any grand law of the land standing here holding the hand of someone I love. Then come the questions. The interviewer wants to provoke me. It makes good ratings. They want a shouting match. What do I do? I defend the protestors. I defend their right to freedom of speech. The whole time I was looking past the camera, through the glass doors that silenced the roar, and right into the face of Fred Phelps. I went on to explain that I was using my freedom of speech and I thought that they should be able to as well. I watched myself on TV that night from our hotel room. Apparently, I was not the only one. The next day strangers came up to me on the street. They thanked me. I showed a rational point of view. I did later come to find out that it wasn't always the case in our community. I discovered that I had a voice. I had a voice and it could have power.
The problem with having a voice is that others can hear it. Excited by what I thought was my 15 minutes of fame, I searched our names on the internet when we returned home. I found us. I even found us on anti-gay websites. When your words are public it gives people the ability to play with them. Words can be twisted. I see it everyday as a gay Christian. The words that I use to love someone are used to hate me. Can I let twisted words be my legacy? Do I really let it end there? There are gay activists out there. There isn't a need for me. Small town kid or some old white guy in a $1000 suit? I am not the face of gay America, or am I?
Life goes on. The moment in the spot light fades. "Real life" kicks in. Normal married life. Well that requires paperwork. Little things kept popping up. Things don't seem this hard for straight couples. Extra effort and phone calls for insurance. Funny looks from the landlord. Tax time is a pain in the ass. Then bigger things starting happening. One of the boys got hurt at a playground. He was bleeding badly. I could see the hospital. Seemed like an easy choice. Stop for a second and take these emotions in. I stood in the E.R. holding a bleeding child who was just denied care because I wasn't his "real" mom. Raising a kid, changing diapers, kissing boo boos, midnight feedings, birthday parties, Christmas morning, and tucking him in a night does not make you a real mom. A piece of paper does. A crack addict, who abandons their kid has more rights than I did. Now I have to make a phone call to the real mom. I broke him but I can't fix him. "Real" mom is a hour away at work. My head was spinning. Maybe it was the room. I was shaking. Bleeding child in one hand. Cell phone in the other. Tears running down my cheek. How can I comfort a crying child? I could not comfort myself. I did feel a sense of relief when I knocked on the triage nurse's window, handed her my cell phone and explained that it was for her. I don't remember the words that were said. I heard them. Hell, I heard them through the glass window, I just don't remember. I do remember that the door opened and they fixed the boo boo. I also remember that I had just been shown my place in the world. I was just the other gay parent. That is equal to being a roommate.
I don't want to say that it is unfortunate but I also cannot say that I am grateful. This is my path in life. I was reminded more than once that I am just a roommate. My wife isn't in the best of health. When you are sick, when you are scared you need your family by your side. Family. Seems like an easy concept but that was another day that I was shown just how powerful a piece of paper can be. A piece of paper that I didn't have. Family only in the room. Roommates are not family. Next of kin? Mother. A mother several states away. A mother that she didn't speak to. A mother that didn't know her medical history. A mother who wouldn't even waste a drive to see her daughter even if it might be the last time. I saw the wrong side of closed hospital doors too many times. I cried alone in hospital hallways too many times.
I am smart. I am educated (those are two different things). Why didn't I know about the problems that faced a gay couple? I shared my experiences with my friends and family. They are also educated, smart people. They happen to be straight. They didn't believe what problems I faced. A lot of people, myself included at that time, thought that gay activist were fighting for special rights. I don't believe that the gay community needs special rights. What I realized was that we were fighting for equal rights. I didn't know this was a fight that I needed to be in. Neither did my friends. You can't fix a problem if you don't even know that it is there. Now I want people to know there is a problem. I want to be part of that solution. I want my friends and family to be part of that solution. I want complete strangers to be a part of that solution.
For years now I have been posting stuff on Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, whatever blog of the day about gay rights. I just want people to know. I call my congressman. I call my President. Hell, I've tried to call the presidents of other countries too. I send emails. I forward stories. I now have those oh so important pieces of paper. I have a bunch of them. Hospital doors are no longer closed in my face. I want to help others with those same steps. It loses its sincerity when you see a post that I just received an email from the President and the next post is that I leveled up on Farmville. I never had the time to devote to a page just for LGBT stuff. God fixed that for me. I recently was hurt. It was bad enough that my body wasn't able to work. That didn't do much for my mind. Sitting at home with a TV remote, a dog, and a bottle of pain pills didn't occupy the hours between doctor appointments. So here I am. I can't promise that once the doctors fix whatever bone I broke or muscle I tore that I will be able to post 20 times a day. But I do promise that I will not stop fighting. I will not stop being that rational voice. I found my voice. I will use it to speak up for those who can't speak up for themselves. I just ask that you take that journey with me.
-Bridget
Thanks Bridget! If anyone else would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your first name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. All contact information will remain private and confidential.
I never intended to be an activist. I never intended to be gay. Now following up those statements, I think I should explain who I am and how I ended up here.
My name is Bridget. I am 33 years old, married (I use the term loosely and I will explain later), and have two children. I am a white, middle-class, Republican, Christian American living in the coal mining foothills of southern West Virginia. Oh yeah, and I am gay.
West Virginia is a Democratic state by nature. We have the oldest average age of residents in the US. Older than Florida. We have a population of less than 2 million and one of the lowest crime rates. Almost 75% of our state is covered by forest. That probably has something to do with that crime rate fact. 95% of the population is white. 65% of the residents are Protestant, 77% Christian. West Virginia is considered the southern most northern state and the northern most southern state. See, even my state is confused about its identity. These may seem like trivial facts but until eight years ago the most un-normal or out of line thing I did was vote Republican. Then along came a woman. Isn't that how all the good stories start?
I had lived the first 25 years of my life straight. Never even thought twice about it. I don't have some grand coming out story. I wasn't tortured in high school. My parents didn't disown me as a gay teenager. I had never really even thought about the gay community. There certainly are gay people in West Virginia but we don't seem to be as out here as other states. I met Nova, another straight chick, at work one day. I don't know if you can call it love at first sight but it seemed pretty damn close. Within one month we had gently removed the men from out of lives and were dating each other exclusively. Within two months we lived together. Yes, I know that sounds cliché lesbian but that was almost eight years ago and we are still kicking. During that dating time, we experienced hatred. We had our cars keyed, received hate mail, packages on our door step, threatening phone calls, and I even attribute the loss of a job to it. I unfortunately wasn't taking these experiences as a gay education. See, I considered myself an educated person already. I considered my family and friends to be educated as well. I thought these were just small town redneck moments. I didn't realize the prevalence of the hate. I didn't even realize I was about to get a real life education.
In 2004, I came across a website looking for couples to have a holy union ceremony as part of a gay pride event. Nova and I had been together two years. It seemed like it would be a nice display of love to one another. It was about to become a display of love to the country. I think the lack of legal marriage is cheapening the idea of commitment ceremonies. They are everywhere now. That wasn't the case in 2004. This pride event wanted to make a statement. They wanted a couple to show off and parade around. Several couples had stepped up but as the event drew near, fear kicked in, couples dropped out. Last man standing, we ended up becoming the defending voice of gay marriage at that event.
I don't consider protestors romantic. I wanted to hear piano music as I walked down the aisle. I heard banging. I wanted my family standing there for me. I had police officers trying to keep the doors from swinging open at the hands of protestors. I wanted friends taking my picture. I had news cameras. I wanted friends throwing rice. I had hundreds, maybe a thousand welcoming me as an angry mob with signs and shouts. That's the day I met Fred Phelps. If you don't know the name Google it.
In my small town this would have made national news. We weren't in West Virginia. This wasn't a small town. I didn't realize why this was news. People wanted to interview us. We weren't famous. I didn't think we were important. People have weddings every day. Why do I need to go on TV to explain this? I stood in front of the tv cameras. Don't let the emotions over run this. This is not personal. This people spewing hatred do not know me. I am a Christian. They are holding that same Bible I read. Those words aren't in it. Control the anger. Control the tears. I had read the Constitution. I am not breaking any grand law of the land standing here holding the hand of someone I love. Then come the questions. The interviewer wants to provoke me. It makes good ratings. They want a shouting match. What do I do? I defend the protestors. I defend their right to freedom of speech. The whole time I was looking past the camera, through the glass doors that silenced the roar, and right into the face of Fred Phelps. I went on to explain that I was using my freedom of speech and I thought that they should be able to as well. I watched myself on TV that night from our hotel room. Apparently, I was not the only one. The next day strangers came up to me on the street. They thanked me. I showed a rational point of view. I did later come to find out that it wasn't always the case in our community. I discovered that I had a voice. I had a voice and it could have power.
The problem with having a voice is that others can hear it. Excited by what I thought was my 15 minutes of fame, I searched our names on the internet when we returned home. I found us. I even found us on anti-gay websites. When your words are public it gives people the ability to play with them. Words can be twisted. I see it everyday as a gay Christian. The words that I use to love someone are used to hate me. Can I let twisted words be my legacy? Do I really let it end there? There are gay activists out there. There isn't a need for me. Small town kid or some old white guy in a $1000 suit? I am not the face of gay America, or am I?
Life goes on. The moment in the spot light fades. "Real life" kicks in. Normal married life. Well that requires paperwork. Little things kept popping up. Things don't seem this hard for straight couples. Extra effort and phone calls for insurance. Funny looks from the landlord. Tax time is a pain in the ass. Then bigger things starting happening. One of the boys got hurt at a playground. He was bleeding badly. I could see the hospital. Seemed like an easy choice. Stop for a second and take these emotions in. I stood in the E.R. holding a bleeding child who was just denied care because I wasn't his "real" mom. Raising a kid, changing diapers, kissing boo boos, midnight feedings, birthday parties, Christmas morning, and tucking him in a night does not make you a real mom. A piece of paper does. A crack addict, who abandons their kid has more rights than I did. Now I have to make a phone call to the real mom. I broke him but I can't fix him. "Real" mom is a hour away at work. My head was spinning. Maybe it was the room. I was shaking. Bleeding child in one hand. Cell phone in the other. Tears running down my cheek. How can I comfort a crying child? I could not comfort myself. I did feel a sense of relief when I knocked on the triage nurse's window, handed her my cell phone and explained that it was for her. I don't remember the words that were said. I heard them. Hell, I heard them through the glass window, I just don't remember. I do remember that the door opened and they fixed the boo boo. I also remember that I had just been shown my place in the world. I was just the other gay parent. That is equal to being a roommate.
I don't want to say that it is unfortunate but I also cannot say that I am grateful. This is my path in life. I was reminded more than once that I am just a roommate. My wife isn't in the best of health. When you are sick, when you are scared you need your family by your side. Family. Seems like an easy concept but that was another day that I was shown just how powerful a piece of paper can be. A piece of paper that I didn't have. Family only in the room. Roommates are not family. Next of kin? Mother. A mother several states away. A mother that she didn't speak to. A mother that didn't know her medical history. A mother who wouldn't even waste a drive to see her daughter even if it might be the last time. I saw the wrong side of closed hospital doors too many times. I cried alone in hospital hallways too many times.
I am smart. I am educated (those are two different things). Why didn't I know about the problems that faced a gay couple? I shared my experiences with my friends and family. They are also educated, smart people. They happen to be straight. They didn't believe what problems I faced. A lot of people, myself included at that time, thought that gay activist were fighting for special rights. I don't believe that the gay community needs special rights. What I realized was that we were fighting for equal rights. I didn't know this was a fight that I needed to be in. Neither did my friends. You can't fix a problem if you don't even know that it is there. Now I want people to know there is a problem. I want to be part of that solution. I want my friends and family to be part of that solution. I want complete strangers to be a part of that solution.
For years now I have been posting stuff on Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, whatever blog of the day about gay rights. I just want people to know. I call my congressman. I call my President. Hell, I've tried to call the presidents of other countries too. I send emails. I forward stories. I now have those oh so important pieces of paper. I have a bunch of them. Hospital doors are no longer closed in my face. I want to help others with those same steps. It loses its sincerity when you see a post that I just received an email from the President and the next post is that I leveled up on Farmville. I never had the time to devote to a page just for LGBT stuff. God fixed that for me. I recently was hurt. It was bad enough that my body wasn't able to work. That didn't do much for my mind. Sitting at home with a TV remote, a dog, and a bottle of pain pills didn't occupy the hours between doctor appointments. So here I am. I can't promise that once the doctors fix whatever bone I broke or muscle I tore that I will be able to post 20 times a day. But I do promise that I will not stop fighting. I will not stop being that rational voice. I found my voice. I will use it to speak up for those who can't speak up for themselves. I just ask that you take that journey with me.
-Bridget
Thanks Bridget! If anyone else would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your first name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. All contact information will remain private and confidential.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Sound Familiar?
An LDS Ad Campaign to Counter Mormon Stereotypes
According to news sources, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints has begun a television campaign to reach out to the American people, many of whom have reportedly never met a Mormon. The campaign aims at breaking down stereotypes of Mormons as stiff right-wing religious fanatics by providing snapshots of the lives of real Mormons to show that they’re not so different from everyone else after all.
Sound familiar, folks?
I won’t go so far as to say that the Mormons stole my idea, but in an effort to address the same problem, they certainly came up with the same solution. I started this blog as a space where real live Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning individuals could share insights into their lives. I believe that this is the best way to counter the stereotypes that so often spark judgments about us that don’t really address us as people.
The I'm a Mormon Campaign currently contains over twenty videos of normal people—couples, artists, athletes—comfortable with talking about who they are and what they do on a daily basis that makes them unique and worthy of acceptance. “It’s time to reintroduce ourselves,” say leaders of the campaign. I never thought I’d say this, but there is one area where the Mormons and I agree. People can’t really understand and appreciate you if all they have to know you by is an overblown cliché.
I’ve been calling out to all of you help drive this effort forward, one story at a time. If you have any interest in changing the minds of those around you, please participate in this project by emailing your LGBTQ in the Life story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com. Here you have a chance to show the world the real you.
C’mon. Introduce yourself.
If you would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your fist name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. Include a title that begins, "A Gay (Lesbian, Bi, Trans, Questioning) in the Life of..." All contact information will remain private and confidential.
According to news sources, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints has begun a television campaign to reach out to the American people, many of whom have reportedly never met a Mormon. The campaign aims at breaking down stereotypes of Mormons as stiff right-wing religious fanatics by providing snapshots of the lives of real Mormons to show that they’re not so different from everyone else after all.
Sound familiar, folks?
I won’t go so far as to say that the Mormons stole my idea, but in an effort to address the same problem, they certainly came up with the same solution. I started this blog as a space where real live Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning individuals could share insights into their lives. I believe that this is the best way to counter the stereotypes that so often spark judgments about us that don’t really address us as people.
The I'm a Mormon Campaign currently contains over twenty videos of normal people—couples, artists, athletes—comfortable with talking about who they are and what they do on a daily basis that makes them unique and worthy of acceptance. “It’s time to reintroduce ourselves,” say leaders of the campaign. I never thought I’d say this, but there is one area where the Mormons and I agree. People can’t really understand and appreciate you if all they have to know you by is an overblown cliché.
I’ve been calling out to all of you help drive this effort forward, one story at a time. If you have any interest in changing the minds of those around you, please participate in this project by emailing your LGBTQ in the Life story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com. Here you have a chance to show the world the real you.
C’mon. Introduce yourself.
If you would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your fist name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. Include a title that begins, "A Gay (Lesbian, Bi, Trans, Questioning) in the Life of..." All contact information will remain private and confidential.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A Gay in the Life of a Witness to History
Hey Everyone,
No doubt you've heard the good news about yesterday's ruling against Proposition 8 in California! For the first time, a federal judge has struck down a ban on same-sex marriage. The decision is certain to be appealed, but our community can celebrate a victory and express our hope that things will continue to go well at this new level.
Each of us is watching history be made as the months pass and daily strides are made in the movement for the rights of LGBTQ citizens.
What are your thoughts on the movement, on our recent successes in marriage cases, hate crimes legislation, and Don't Ask, Don't Tell?
How do feel toward those who oppose this progress, about the people, their motives, and their arguments?
And what's it feel like to be part of a generation that is witnessing strides that no one would have dreamed of fifty years ago? The seeds that the Stonewall generation planted are finally maturing. We're watching it, and some of us are even taking part. For one thing, LGBTQ people have finally found their voice, the ability to express themselves and be recognized. Take advantage and participate in the Gay in the Life Project. Tell your story today!
UPDATE: People have already begun posting their thoughts on Facebook, so here they are!
I come from Iowa originally, so when we gained our rights last year, I was overwhelmed with sense of community, unity, and overall joy for my friends who have waited for so long to be considered one with their partners. Now, living in Nebraska, I'm back to watching people suffer for the stubborn, misguided opinions of others. As for the opposition, I feel nothing but pity for them and their families. They know nothing about what its like to actually live life the way we do. They dislike what they don't understand and try to make us conform so they feel more secure in their world, but what they need to understand is that everyone (gay, straight, or otherwise) is different. Nobody will ever understand everybody and that's the way it ought to be. My name is Kris. I'm 21 and the father of an amazing baby boy. I am proudly gay and will fight in whatever way I can to be considered equal. [Posted to the Facebook page for The Gay in the Life Project on 8/5/10]
No doubt you've heard the good news about yesterday's ruling against Proposition 8 in California! For the first time, a federal judge has struck down a ban on same-sex marriage. The decision is certain to be appealed, but our community can celebrate a victory and express our hope that things will continue to go well at this new level.
Each of us is watching history be made as the months pass and daily strides are made in the movement for the rights of LGBTQ citizens.
What are your thoughts on the movement, on our recent successes in marriage cases, hate crimes legislation, and Don't Ask, Don't Tell?
How do feel toward those who oppose this progress, about the people, their motives, and their arguments?
And what's it feel like to be part of a generation that is witnessing strides that no one would have dreamed of fifty years ago? The seeds that the Stonewall generation planted are finally maturing. We're watching it, and some of us are even taking part. For one thing, LGBTQ people have finally found their voice, the ability to express themselves and be recognized. Take advantage and participate in the Gay in the Life Project. Tell your story today!
UPDATE: People have already begun posting their thoughts on Facebook, so here they are!
I come from Iowa originally, so when we gained our rights last year, I was overwhelmed with sense of community, unity, and overall joy for my friends who have waited for so long to be considered one with their partners. Now, living in Nebraska, I'm back to watching people suffer for the stubborn, misguided opinions of others. As for the opposition, I feel nothing but pity for them and their families. They know nothing about what its like to actually live life the way we do. They dislike what they don't understand and try to make us conform so they feel more secure in their world, but what they need to understand is that everyone (gay, straight, or otherwise) is different. Nobody will ever understand everybody and that's the way it ought to be. My name is Kris. I'm 21 and the father of an amazing baby boy. I am proudly gay and will fight in whatever way I can to be considered equal. [Posted to the Facebook page for The Gay in the Life Project on 8/5/10]
Sunday, July 11, 2010
A Quick Note on Censorship
I thought between postings I’d take a moment to address a comment made by a recent contributor regarding the possibility of my editing a submission. The writer ended his story with some opinions and encouragement to readers, but noted in his introduction that I could delete that part if I disagreed with any of it. As it happened, I agreed perfectly, but I think I should say that even if I hadn’t, I would not have deleted anything.
This blog is not about me and my opinions. It’s about everyone, all of you who read and submit. I’m not trying to push any agenda here, just to provide a space where everyone can share their story and get whatever they might get out of reading the stories of others. If I happen to get a story that expresses an opinion I disagree with, I would never censor it in any way, and I would not let that part of it stop me from posting it. You each have the right to share your story in the way that you want to, and it would be contrary to my purpose here to interfere with that.
So, it may come about through this that conflicting views are expressed here, but that will happen in any open forum, and it is not a bad thing. That is how discussion and debate get started, with the free exchange of ideas. If there is any disagreement, feel free to express it by email or by leaving comments, and as long as debate remains respectful, I honestly have no objection. In fact, there may even be cause to welcome debate if it results in further exploration of important issues or greater support for those of us readers and contributors that need it.
I just thought I should assure you all that I would never edit your submissions for content in that way. I promise, the most I’ll do is correct typos and punctuation errors so that we can understand each other better. That’s all.
I hope concern about censorship of any kind hasn’t deterred anyone from contributing, but if it has, rest assured that the integrity of your story is safe and that all of your opinions are valued.
Thank you.
If you would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story (about 1000 words) to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your fist name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. Include a title that begins, "A Gay (Lesbian, Bi, Trans, Questioning) in the Life of..." All contact information will remain private and confidential.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
A Gay in the Life of an Africa-Obsessed Undergrad
Bianca, 18, Pittsburgh, PA—"college student and blogger, activist, waitress, and other stuff."
I’m into labels. But probably not the ones you’re used to. Senegal. Guinea-Bissau, Mauritius. Labels are points on a map. A big, rainbow map with Africa smack dab in the middle of it.
Ok, enough abstract (it’s the writer in me, I can’t help it!)—I’m almost 19, going to be a junior at my undergrad university, majoring in International Studies. That’s the brief I give to most people I meet. If you poke around a little further, you’ll find that I’m also queer (in my case, attracted to men and women romantically, but only women sexually) and in a long-term, committed relationship with the most beautiful woman in the world- whom I am moving in with in exactly 1 month, 8 days, 6 hours and 49 minutes (but who’s counting?).
Look even deeper and you’ll find that I am hopelessly in love with the continent of Africa—the distinctive red dirt, the incredibly friendly, giving people, the intense, spicy food, and the rich and complex history of a continent I’ve never been to. I’m headed to Kenya this coming January and I am scared out of my mind. I don’t know about all of you, but the last time I checked, Africa wasn’t terribly fond of queers. It is one of the most religious areas of the world, and that religious influence has imbedded a strong distaste for same-sex relations. So here I am, caught between two things I really love: rainbows and Africa.
When I first “figured out” that I was gay, I was about to enter 10th grade- it was July and I was at a student leadership conference for Family, Career, and Community Leaders of America, fulfilling my presidential duties. Over the course of that week, I wrote successive [journal] entries detailing my progression into gayness- “I’m 20% sure I’m bisexual, I’m 50% sure…” Of course, this identity has evolved over the years as I figured out that I didn’t really feel attracted sexually to men, but process was a good one in my opinion. It let me gradually come to accept myself and my identity. And when I wasn’t sure, I could always hang on to that last 10% or so.
But anyways…. I came out 3 months later to my mom and only a short while after that to all of my friends. I pretty much haven’t looked back. I am one of those people who wants everyone to see the whole me, the genuine me—the often crazy, impulsive, and not completely rational me. I am obsessed with authenticity, and the idea of hiding an integral part of myself, whether that’s my love of sushi or my sexual orientation (and trust me, they’re both integral), is almost completely intolerable. It hurts my soul.
So what worries me is the prospect of living my entire “Africa life” as a closeted queer. I know in my head that I can never be out in Africa if I want to be safe. There are beatings, curative rapes, and even murders across the continent for being gay. You do not walk down the streets of Mombasa with your rainbow beads on. But what is more worrisome…I’m not sure I can even pretend to be straight anymore.
I have life pretty easy. I have a very feminine figure and a strong, but classical womanly face. If I grow my hair out, the impression only grows stronger that I am a typical, straight female. (I do not, however, know if this translates in Africa, where women often shave their heads to combat the heat and have very different facial structures than in the US) Nonetheless, my mannerisms, my vocabulary, and my typical conversational topics have a distinctly queer spin to them. I write a blog about LGBT teen issues—http://www.foreverthequeerestkids.wordpress.com/—which I talk about obsessively; I am heavily involved in LGBT groups on my college campus, and I am relatively up-to-date on the latest developments in gay news and politics. These things are integral to how I conduct my every day life. I don’t know if I am CAPABLE of erasing them from my everyday functioning.
Right now, I’m choosing not to worry about it. My bigger issues are finding a Swahili tutor and an apartment for the coming year. I’m certain that no matter the price, I have to be in Africa, and heck, I’ve put my study abroad deposit down, so there’s no turning back. I’ll figure it out. And maybe, just maybe, there’ll be a place in Africa for a queer undergrad who just wants to understand and be understood. But I’ll never know unless I look for it.
If you would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story (about 1000 words) to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your fist name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. Include a title that begins, "A Gay (Lesbian, Bi, Trans, Questioning) in the Life of..." All contact information will remain private and confidential.
I’m into labels. But probably not the ones you’re used to. Senegal. Guinea-Bissau, Mauritius. Labels are points on a map. A big, rainbow map with Africa smack dab in the middle of it.
Ok, enough abstract (it’s the writer in me, I can’t help it!)—I’m almost 19, going to be a junior at my undergrad university, majoring in International Studies. That’s the brief I give to most people I meet. If you poke around a little further, you’ll find that I’m also queer (in my case, attracted to men and women romantically, but only women sexually) and in a long-term, committed relationship with the most beautiful woman in the world- whom I am moving in with in exactly 1 month, 8 days, 6 hours and 49 minutes (but who’s counting?).
Look even deeper and you’ll find that I am hopelessly in love with the continent of Africa—the distinctive red dirt, the incredibly friendly, giving people, the intense, spicy food, and the rich and complex history of a continent I’ve never been to. I’m headed to Kenya this coming January and I am scared out of my mind. I don’t know about all of you, but the last time I checked, Africa wasn’t terribly fond of queers. It is one of the most religious areas of the world, and that religious influence has imbedded a strong distaste for same-sex relations. So here I am, caught between two things I really love: rainbows and Africa.
When I first “figured out” that I was gay, I was about to enter 10th grade- it was July and I was at a student leadership conference for Family, Career, and Community Leaders of America, fulfilling my presidential duties. Over the course of that week, I wrote successive [journal] entries detailing my progression into gayness- “I’m 20% sure I’m bisexual, I’m 50% sure…” Of course, this identity has evolved over the years as I figured out that I didn’t really feel attracted sexually to men, but process was a good one in my opinion. It let me gradually come to accept myself and my identity. And when I wasn’t sure, I could always hang on to that last 10% or so.
But anyways…. I came out 3 months later to my mom and only a short while after that to all of my friends. I pretty much haven’t looked back. I am one of those people who wants everyone to see the whole me, the genuine me—the often crazy, impulsive, and not completely rational me. I am obsessed with authenticity, and the idea of hiding an integral part of myself, whether that’s my love of sushi or my sexual orientation (and trust me, they’re both integral), is almost completely intolerable. It hurts my soul.
So what worries me is the prospect of living my entire “Africa life” as a closeted queer. I know in my head that I can never be out in Africa if I want to be safe. There are beatings, curative rapes, and even murders across the continent for being gay. You do not walk down the streets of Mombasa with your rainbow beads on. But what is more worrisome…I’m not sure I can even pretend to be straight anymore.
I have life pretty easy. I have a very feminine figure and a strong, but classical womanly face. If I grow my hair out, the impression only grows stronger that I am a typical, straight female. (I do not, however, know if this translates in Africa, where women often shave their heads to combat the heat and have very different facial structures than in the US) Nonetheless, my mannerisms, my vocabulary, and my typical conversational topics have a distinctly queer spin to them. I write a blog about LGBT teen issues—http://www.foreverthequeerestkids.wordpress.com/—which I talk about obsessively; I am heavily involved in LGBT groups on my college campus, and I am relatively up-to-date on the latest developments in gay news and politics. These things are integral to how I conduct my every day life. I don’t know if I am CAPABLE of erasing them from my everyday functioning.
Right now, I’m choosing not to worry about it. My bigger issues are finding a Swahili tutor and an apartment for the coming year. I’m certain that no matter the price, I have to be in Africa, and heck, I’ve put my study abroad deposit down, so there’s no turning back. I’ll figure it out. And maybe, just maybe, there’ll be a place in Africa for a queer undergrad who just wants to understand and be understood. But I’ll never know unless I look for it.
If you would like to participate in the Gay in the Life Project, email your story (about 1000 words) to gay.in.the.life@gmail.com, along with your fist name or pen name, age, location, and/or any other information that you’d like posted to introduce yourself. Include a title that begins, "A Gay (Lesbian, Bi, Trans, Questioning) in the Life of..." All contact information will remain private and confidential.
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