by Dan Savage
IT GETS BETTER BECAUSE YOU’RE A LITTLE DIFFERENT
by Dave Holmes
LOS ANGELES, CA
I grew up Catholic in the Midwest, in St. Louis. And when I was a boy, I did not like to do things that boys did. I didn’t like to play sports; I didn’t care about sports. I didn’t like to play with guns. I didn’t like to wrestle. I didn’t like to get dirty. And I felt strange about it. I felt like I had somehow chosen to be different. I had somehow chosen my self, and I had chosen wrong. Because even the people who loved me said, “Do this, because this is what boys do. Here’s a football. Go play with it, because that’s what boys do. Here, let me take the People magazine, here’s a football. Go outside and play with it, because that’s what boys do.”
I felt defective growing up. In my teenage years, when puberty happened and sexual feelings started to pop up, I had them. I just had them about men. I had them about Huey Lewis. The first few seconds of that “I Want a New Drug” video still get me to this day.
I got picked on a lot growing up because I was different. Kids are terrible. Kids are cruel. I was at my cruelest when I was a kid. And kids are cruel because they’re terrified. Everybody feels a little bit different, and because of that, they lash out at people with more obvious differences. I had them, so I got picked on. You might have them, so you might get picked on.
To me, much worse than getting picked on was when people I looked up to—my brothers, the cool kids at school, or whoever—would talk about someone who they perceived as gay, that’s all that person was to them. If there was a boy who was a little girly and their name came up, they would do the limp wrist or call them a fag or whatever, and then that person was just dismissed. There was nothing else important about that person. Why even bother talking that person anymore? They’re a fag. That’s that. Those who conformed to gender norms got to be multidimensional people with traits and flaws and the whole bit, but gay people were just gay, end of story. No need for further discussion.
That scared me to death. Because I felt like a real person and I wanted to be perceived as a real person. I wanted to grow up to be someone who was proud and who made the people he loved proud. Yet I didn’t think that I could because inside I felt different, and that is a terrible burden for a kid to carry. I should not have had to carry it, and you shouldn’t have to carry it either. But you don’t have to carry it forever, because I am here to tell you that it gets better.
Once you get out into the real world, you will notice that there are not only a lot of people, there’re a lot of different ways to live. I moved to New York, which is a huge, dense city, with an enormous breadth of people. There are so many different kinds of people and so many different ways to live and so many different interests, and so much going on, that the fact that I was gay was like, “Who cares? You’re gay and what else?” The fact that I was interested in things that weren’t stereotypically male was not even a consideration anymore. In fact, it wasn’t until I embraced those things; it wasn’t until I started to look at the things I was passionate about as assets—rather than liabilities—that my life really changed. And the life that I wanted when I was a thirteen-year-old with a crush on Huey Lewis became my life because I got truer to myself.
Now, growing up, I never dreamed that I would be gay and proud. And I am. It never occurred to me that I would have a family who knew the real me and loved the real me. And I do. It never, never occurred to me that I would be able to bring a boyfriend home and have my parents like him. And I have. In fact, they love him. I never dreamed that I would have the kind of friends that I have, friends who are so smart and so confident and so funny. And some are gay, some are straight, and nobody cares. And if there’s a football game on, some people want to watch it and some people don’t. And nobody cares which of those groups you fall into. It just doesn’t matter.
So if things are bad right now, here’s my advice to you: Use this time in isolation to figure out what it is that you love to do. And then do that thing as often as you can. Learn as much as you can about it. Read everything you can get your hands on about it. And be the best that you can be at the thing you love to do. And that way, when this time ends—and it will—and you get out into the world, you will have a talent. You will have a passion. You will have attracted some good people to you. And you won’t let this time make you an angry person, or bitter person. Do what you love to do, and I guarantee you there is a place in this world where someone will pay you to do it. So find it.
Now, I am not telling you that you are never going to come across someone who judges you for your sexuality. We see this every day. On the news, each day, there is a new jackass. You are going to come across some people who think differently of you because you’re gay. I can tell pretty easily when someone is judging me for being gay. And that is a quick and easy way for me to know that I am talking to an idiot, someone who is not worthy of my time or attention, somebody who can’t come to my party. And, it’s a good party, my party; and your party is going to be a really good one, too.
Just keep in mind there is a big, beautiful world out there waiting for you. It gets better. Trust me.
Dave Holmes is a comic/actor/writer who lives in Los Angeles with his boyfriend, musician Huey Lewis. He is kidding about that last part.
UNAPOLOGETICALLY, ME
by Demetrius Gittens
BREMERTON, WA
I’m a gay, twenty-two-year-old, African American man, and I can honestly say it does get better. It gets great. And I wouldn’t have my life any other way.
It wasn’t this easy all the time, though. When I was younger, I felt like I needed to hide behind sports, music, and baggy clothes. Being the middle son of three boys made me question my differences rather than embrace them. As a young kid I never really got into sports, though both of my brothers excelled in basketball. My mom always introduced me as the “thinker” of the three. She always assumed I’d be the doctor or lawyer of the family.
After a very short stint in peewee football, I thought I’d never play sports again. But in high school, like my older brother, I tried out for the basketball team and realized it was something I really enjoyed! To fit in with my peers and avoid any question of my sexual preferences, I wore the latest styles—baggy denim shorts with boots, sweat suits, and huge T-shirts. I had two playlists on my iPod, one for when I was alone (Destiny’s Child, Alternative, and R&B), and one for hanging with friends (2Pac, Biggie, and other rap artists).
But as I got older and with help from an openly gay friend, Keala, I realized that this wasn’t me. There’s no way I could be happy if I continued to fake this lifestyle and personae. Keala and I were in the same circle of friends, and everywhere we went he was the same person. He never attempted to deepen his high-pitched voice; he wore whatever he felt like wearing with no fear of scrutiny; and he was genuinely the nicest person I have ever encountered. I really looked up to him, and he was a big factor in my decision to come out.
Before moving away for college, I decided I was going to begin the coming-out process. I started with a couple friends who received it well. Then I told my mother. Growing up with Christian values, I knew she wouldn’t take it as well as my friends had. She quoted the Bible and there were tears on both sides. That would be the first and last time we discussed the issue for almost two years. While I was away at school, I made up girlfriends to satisfy my family’s (mostly my older brother’s) inquiries. I knew he would be the least understanding of all.
On New Year’s Eve 2009, with twenty friends waiting downstairs, he finally asked the question: “Do you like dudes?”
I was shocked, and although this was not how I envisioned telling him, I could not pass up the opportunity so I replied truthfully. He took the news better than I expected. And, although he still thinks my orientation is a choice (and a sin); he says he loves me regardless. On the upside, my mom tells me she has always known and is sorry for how she originally reacted. She now asks questions and wants to know about my l
ife away from home. We’re even to the point where I would be fairly comfortable bringing home a serious boyfriend.
Unfortunately, none of my close friends are gay (Keala passed away last year in a car accident), so I spend most of my nights with guys and girls at straight bars and clubs. Recently, I was dancing with a girlfriend at a bar when a guy next to us called me a faggot. I was so angry I pushed him and started cussing at him, as did my friend Charlene. We were quickly separated, and my friends got me out of the bar. I’d never experienced this before (I was lucky to have not been bullied in high school). Once outside, I broke down and began to cry.
I am glad I stuck up for myself. Hopefully, he took something away from the experience as well, and no one else will ever have to be the target of his ignorance again.
Thank God we now have people like Tyler Oakley and B. Scott. We have books. We have the Stonewall Movement. We have The Matthew Shepard Story. We have Ellen, and Kathy Griffin, and now we have Gaga, as advocates for gay and lesbian people, and for the LGBT community as a whole.
You can be yourself. It’s no longer the road not taken. In fact, we can choose to go whichever direction we feel is the one meant for us. No one can tell you who you are, but you have to pick the right time to tell people, to show people, who you are. Don’t just spring it on them, don’t feel forced into it. No one can make you come out, not a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a family member, or a friend. Do it on your own time. Just do it, though. Because, once you do, you’ll feel so liberated, so much happier with yourself, with your life.
It gets better. It honestly, truly does get better.
Demetrius Gittens is a hospitality student from Bremerton, Washington, a small town right outside Seattle. With big-city aspirations, he hopes to move to Los Angeles or New York and become a successful hotelier after graduating from college this year.
A COLLECTIVE VOICE
by Gabe Milligan-Green, Addy Cahill, and Russell Peck
NEW YORK, NY
Addy: So we’ve known each other for fourteen years.
Russell: Fourteen years
Addy: We met at church.
Russell: In the children’s choir.
Addy: We sang together and we were altar servers.
Russell: My mother taught our Bible study class.
Addy: We were really, really lucky because we were in a loving and open community.
Russell: Our priest was really supportive and open. Very liberal. It was nice to have that kind of community and that kind of support from a very young age.
Addy: We were all there for each other.
Russell: Especially in a church setting, you know?
Addy: Yeah, because we were coming together for a love of one God and one spirit.
Russell: And each other.
Addy: And each other. So, after growing up in such an amazing community, I guess my first real reality check was when we finally got confirmed.
Russell: We had taken CCD for years together, since I was in first grade. So we finally get to this time, during middle school, and I had kind of been figuring out that the Catholic Church was this place that said that they supported loving your neighbor as yourself, but in actual practice the institution itself didn’t actually accept everyone for who they were. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay with the church. My mom said, “Well, just get confirmed and then you can make your own decision and figure it out.”
Addy: So we go and we get confirmed by this substitute bishop.
Russell: He was this very old man who had been in retirement for five or ten years.
Addy: This guy is coming out of retirement to come and talk to us, as a new crop of Catholic youth, going out into the world to be good people, to be loving people—the way we were taught in this church.
Russell: And he gave this homily all about loving your neighbors.
Addy: How, as young people you have to kind of band together and support each other because it’s a really rocky time, and we’re coming into our own.
Russell: And at one point, I was sitting next to Addy and he [the bishop] started talking about gay people. He said something along the lines of, “If you have gay friends you should support them and love them, but try to get them help and let them know it’s not okay to be gay.”
Addy: He basically said, “Don’t let your friends be gay. It will be harder for them; it’s against God’s rules. You should support them and help them get help. But don’t let your friends be gay.”
Russell: And I remember sitting there, feeling stunned. Here I was surrounded by this community of people that I had been with for years, that I loved and had done choir with, and been altar servers with. I was surrounded by all these parents and children, and sitting next to Addy, and it was just this weird moment where even though I knew all of these people loved me and accepted me for who I was, here I was being told that what I was, was wrong. My uncle, who was sitting across the way, almost walked out when the bishop said this, and Addy grabbed my knee so hard and wouldn’t let go.
Addy: It blew my mind. I remember just sitting there with Russell in the pew and feeling astonished.
Russell: It was just crazy that there are people in this world who feel like they can tell you who you are and who you should be, but can still preach the importance of loving everyone equally.
Addy: It doesn’t make sense to me. It never made sense to me. It frustrated me.
Russell: And at the end of the service, my mom tried to make me go over and thank the bishop for speaking, but I refused.
Addy: How could you be teaching someone to not let their friends accept themselves? How could you be teaching someone to tell their friends, “I love you, but I don’t love this part of you”? If you love someone, you should love all of them, you should support all of them. You should be able to be there for all of them because that’s what friendship’s about.
Russell: Even though I don’t go to church anymore, I always appreciate what I learned at church and the community that I found there.
Gabe: It gets better. But it won’t j ust happen. You have to go out and search for it. There are people out there that will love you, that will accept you, that will stand up for you, and support you, and love you for just who you are. But you have to find them. Even if you live in a small town out in the middle of nowhere, find your closest Gay-Straight Alliance chapter. Hop on the Internet. There are millions of people out there who are just waiting for you. Find the right people and make it happen. Build a better community for yourself. Believe me, it gets better.
Terence: There are people in the world who aren’t tolerant.
Gabe: There are people in the world who are tolerant, but judge . . .
Addy: who are filled with discomfort and feelings of separateness.
Jason: There are people who will view you as the other . . .
Zach: who will be bystanders to all sorts of horrible behavior . . .
Austin: because of fear . . .
Terence: or refusal to sympathize.
Maria: But there are also people who love without judgment.
Gabe: There are people who love other people in their entirety . . .
Michael: for their entire selves.
Arianna: There are people who love like you . . .
Austin: no matter what gender you are . . .
Maria: no matter what gender you love.
Jason: You don’t have to settle for tolerance.
Gabe: You don’t need to settle . . .
Zach: for people who don’t help you in your times of need . . .
Maria: or stand up for you when you need it.
Peter: You deserve better.
Addy: There are so many people in this country . . .
Max: in this world . . .
Gabe: and you can find your community.
Addy: It will get better . . .
Gabe: if you make the effort to find your family.
Addy: Build a family . . .
Michael: a support system of p
eople who love the whole you.
Gabe: Friends who love with all the trimmings: support, care, and understanding.
Addy: It gets better.
Terence: If you trust your ability to get through.
Addy: If you trust that, yes, we are out here.
