by Dan Savage
So no matter where you are if you’re being bullied, if you’re being gay bashed, no matter what age you are, it gets better. Once you turn eighteen, you’ve got control of your life. You can do with it what you want. And it doesn’t matter what other people think. If other people are going to try to push their opinions on you, then go somewhere where they won’t. Create a safe space for yourself.
You can do that anywhere. Everywhere that I’ve worked, I’ve worked with other gay people. We’re all over the place; trust me, even here in South Africa. It gets better for all of us. No matter where you are, it’s going to get better for you. You can do all of the things that I’ve done and come to these amazing places and fall in love and have your heart broken and get married (legal in South Africa, Argentina, Canada, Iceland, the Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, Belgium, Portugal, as well as Connecticut, Washington, DC, Iowa, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Vermont; and several other countries recognize civil unions). Things are improving. So please just hold on and make it through the next few years, and I promise you that your life is going to be amazing. You’re going to be amazing.
Author’s Note: As I mentioned in my story, I grew up in Milwaukee and attended public school. I know how bad it can be there. If you’re going to Milwaukee public schools now, and if you’re being harassed, if you’re being gay bashed all the time, if it’s becoming unmanageable, if you don’t want to go to school anymore—you have other options. A few years ago a charter school opened, called the Alliance School. It’s run by Tina Owen and it’s a great place made for kids like you, who are bullied and harassed every day at school. If you can’t handle it anymore, visit the Alliance School’s website (www.allianceschool.net), write to Tina, schedule a visit, or talk to your parents about helping you transfer. It’s a safe space for gay students and for other students who are harassed for being different or unique.
Christopher A. Schmitt is currently a postdoctoral scholar with the Center for Neurobehavioral Genetics at the University of California, Los Angeles. If you want to learn more about his work with wild primates or just see some adorable fuzzy monkey pictures, visit his website at www.evopropinquitous.net.
IT GOT BETTER
by Stephen D. Lorimor
BERKELEY HEIGHTS, NJ
When I was younger, life was a royal bitch.
On the surface I had it easy. I grew up in Warren, New Jersey, an upper-middle-class suburb of New York City. Most people who knew me well were supportive of my decision to come out in 1986 at age fifteen. My parents were initially upset but over the years grew to be supportive as well.
Loneliness was my real issue. While my straight, male friends learned the art of dating and relationships, I had so few gay acquaintances that my dating experiences were often limited to semi-anonymous hookups with what passed for the Internet back then.
College was worse. Shortly after arriving at Iowa State, I was harassed by the people on my dorm floor. My roommate moved out because I was gay. When I complained to my RA, he replied, “Well, I can’t blame your roommate for moving out. Why would anyone want to live with a gay person?”
A number of students on the floor put up signs on their door that read, “SAFE—Students Against Faggots Everywhere.” I received threatening phone calls, and a few students harassed me in the hallways. I complained to the residence life staff but was told that the signs were free speech and there was little they could do about the phone calls. So I moved out.
For a while I thought about transferring to another school. My parents even encouraged it. They thought I would be happier somewhere else. I stuck it out, in part, because I didn’t know where else to go.
In the end, I’m glad that I stayed. I became active with the campus LGBT organization, which helped me gain a lot of self-confidence. I met a young man named Jeff in 1992. We started dating, and nineteen years later, we are still together and very happy. We adopted our son, Devon, in July of 2009. The following April a judge officially made us his parents and I cannot tell you how happy we are. We’ve got everything that we ever wanted. We’ve got a home, we’ve got each other, and we’ve got our little guy. Life really does get better.
I know that some of you reading this are feeling lonely or depressed. You feel like no one in the world understands you. All I can tell you is that life does get better and there is help out there. If you’re feeling lost or suicidal, and there is no one you can turn to, contact the Trevor Project. If you feel like you haven’t got a friend in the world, know there are people out there who will listen to you and will understand.
I’ve gone from being that lonely, depressed gay kid to being a parent who has his life together. I can’t tell you how lost I would feel if Devon ever started thinking about killing himself, or if something awful happened to him. He’s everything to me. This little guy and my husband are so much of my life. I love them both so much.
You, too, can be happy. You can have the things you dreamed of, whether that’s a house and a kid, a successful career, traveling the world, winning an Olympic gold medal, or whatever else you want to do.
Just don’t hurt yourself. It does get better.
Stephen D. Lorimor is an Internet webmaster and a stay-at-home dad for his son, Devon. He lives in New Jersey with husband, Jeff Cline.
OUR PARENTS AS ALLIES
by Lawrence Gullo, Fyodor Pavlov, Eileen Charbonneau, and Ed Gullo
NEW YORK, NY
My husband, Fyodor, and I interviewed my parents for this project, and since they proved to be so much more eloquent and better composed than we were, we’d decided to share their incredible wisdom with you. They have been steadfast allies not only for us but for a lot of other people, too. Thanks, Mom and Dad, we love you!
Eileen: You’re a part of creation, a beautiful part of creation. If people have a problem with you, then it’s their problem, not yours. The wonderful diversity of creation is manifest in each of us, and we can learn so much from those we think of as different.
Part of it getting better is that you realize that you’re part of this wider world; you’re part of this world that’s been with you since your birth. If your family won’t accept you for who you are, it’s certainly harder but you’ll just have to find new family. You’ll have to find your advocates no matter where they are. Find people who honor you, look for people who are lifelong learners because those kind of people embrace difference.
When Lawrence told me he was gay, I knew nothing about being gay. My family did not have a tradition of gay, transgender, and lesbian people—at least not that anyone knew of. I’m sure they were there, they just weren’t out. Yet watching my son grow and come out and accept himself has really been such a wonderful learning experience, and one that I continue to learn from. If you look for people who are lifelong learners, no matter what age they are, they’ll become your family. They’ll become your strongest allies and advocates because you’re teaching them. Most of the people who are very down on who you are and what you are, they have a lot of pain inside them. After all, what you’re doing is not hurting them, it’s got nothing to do with them, it does not threaten their lives at all, and yet they react so strongly against you. The only conclusion I can draw is that they must have some kind of pain inside them that makes you a threat. They have made you a threat. But, again, that’s their problem. It’s not your problem at all.
Please, keep yourself safe; my biggest worry for these two fine gentlemen, my son and son-in-law, is that they’ll get into a dangerous situation. Honestly, that was my biggest concern when I learned that Lawrence was gay. I was so worried that somehow the world was going to be suddenly very unsafe for him. That all the people out there who have all this pain inside them were going to make him the scapegoat of that pain. That still worries me to this day. But I live with it because he is who he is. And don’t worry about worrying your parents, because none of that is your responsibility. Your responsibility is to be who you are and make the world more beautiful.
Ed: My
wish is that no matter how put upon you might feel, understand that this is just a moment you’re having, a bad moment, but a moment nonetheless. It always seems like it’s going to last forever, but it doesn’t. It passes and time takes it away and something new and usually better takes over. You just have to get through those really difficult spots and then you find that there are wonderful moments to share.
I always felt that whatever Lawrence and Fyodor felt, I was willing to accept it because they were the ones feeling it. It’s their lives. And I never felt for a moment that it was strange or different, or I should talk them out of it. It’s what they were feeling. It’s the people that they are. I only wanted to encourage them to be as much of themselves as they could. And the years passed, and we had this wonderful wedding, and we’re all one family now. There was nothing to work out, it just happened.
If you’re having problems with your parents—and I know some parents are more accepting than others—or if you’re having problems with friends or whomever, know that it will resolve itself somehow. You will find a better place. Or you’ll find better people, more accepting people.
But you should never, ever, ever do anything to yourself that would punish yourself for things that other people do.
Lawrence Gullo is an artist and puppeteer whose work centers around gender variance and sexuality in history. He has studied in London and Prague and is currently saving money for gender reassignment surgery.
Fyodor Pavlov was born and raised in Moscow, Russia. He currently resides in New York City with his husband, Lawrence, where they perform and create art together as the Royal Baritarian Players. He is an illustrator, puppeteer, and comic and performance artist.
Eileen Charbonneau is a storyteller in the Native American tradition and the author of nine published historical novels.
Ed Gullo has worked for several radio and TV news organizations as anchor, editor, and writer. Both Ed and Eileen are cancer survivors.
LESBIAN TEACHER BELIEVES IN YOU
by Kristin Rivers
SAN JOSE, CA
I’m a lesbian, and a high school teacher. I was called “fucking dyke” by someone who I thought was my friend. In the early ’90s, I attended a Gay Pride Event and had a slough of hateful epithets thrown at me by strangers claiming God was on their side and that I should burn in hell. I’ve experienced prejudice in my career as a teacher from parents, administrators, and even from other teachers. It took me a long time to come out, stand up for myself, and stop allowing others to define me.
I attempted suicide in my teens. I took a lethal dose of prescription medication and meant to remove myself from where I didn’t feel I belonged. When I look back now, I see that I was trying so hard to be who I thought everyone else wanted me to be that I forgot who I was. I lost my sense of place and my own worth. I didn’t feel I deserved to be loved, at least not in the way I wanted to be. So, I know how horrible it can be. I know how awful it can feel.
Fortunately, a dear friend came to visit me in the hospital, and when I told him what I had done, he threw himself on me and wept. He told me how much my friendship meant to him. Although I had been unable to conjure any circumstance in which I felt needed (before taking the pills), he gave me one. My friend made me feel useful and worthy of being loved. I didn’t dare tell him about my feelings about being gay (not then), but I knew that I mattered and that somehow helped me to know that if I could just hold on until college, that I would grow past those empty moments.
Now, at forty-four, I have been with the same woman since 1998 and I know how demeaning it feels to have other people who don’t know us decide whose relationship should be legally recognized. I know how all of this hateful and mean-spirited debate can hurt. My wife and I have three children. I see the flawed world they, and you, are coming up in. But please hear me when I say, it really does get better.
As an adult, I have found friends—straight, gay, bi, and poly (polyamorous ) who love and support me for who I am. I’ve even found a church where I am not just tolerated but respected, honored, and cherished. My family and I live in a neighborhood where most of our neighbors are accepting. And perhaps, most importantly, I’ve come to a point in my life where those who don’t accept me can’t hurt me the way they did in my youth.
I’m absolutely heartbroken by all the amazing people we’ve lost. But I want you to know that you are not alone. Each person who has contributed to this project loves you, respects you, and can’t wait for you to join us out in the world of acceptance that we found and continue to create every day.
Please don’t give up. We really are out here.
Kristin Rivers was born and raised in a conservative small town in Northern California. She teaches English, Spanish, and prenatal health at an urban public continuation high school. She feels unendingly grateful to her authentic family, friends, colleagues, and students who have filled her life with love, purpose, and truth.
STEPPING OFF THE SIDELINES
by Wayne Knaub
PHILADELPHIA, PA
My little brother came home one day when I was in high school and told my dad that he had heard a rumor that I was gay. Then my sister called to tell me that my father said that if I was a faggot then, when I turned eighteen, my ass was getting kicked out of the house. She said she didn’t care if I was or wasn’t. It was nice that she was there for me but I lived with the fear of getting kicked out, wondering where I would go, what would I do, for a long time. So I denied who I was, even to my father. Then, one day when I was eighteen, we had a fight about something financial and when the fight was over, he said he loved me. I told him that he didn’t. Otherwise he wouldn’t have said that to my sister. He asked me if I was gay and I told him that I wasn’t. I denied who I was time and time again.
When I was in college, someone outed me to my father during my sophomore year, but we never talked about it. I finally told him the truth my senior year. He said it wasn’t what he would have wanted for me, but that he wasn’t going to kick me out of his life.
There was never true acceptance on his part; but for twelve years, there was tolerance. And then recently, he posted one of those cut-and-paste “Will you stand up with me against gay teen suicides?” pledges, listing the names of several young people who committed suicide, on his Facebook page. I thought that was a pretty big step for him, but then I read the comment he posted underneath it. “I am so glad that my son was strong enough to withstand the bullying and my ignorance as he was growing up. I am so proud of him and his accomplishments in life, and I love him for all that he is. Being gay is not one of his shortcomings.”
It took many years, but I think my father realized that if all these kids were committing suicide, he could have lost his son, too. It’s sad that it took so many young people dying for him to realize that he could have been that parent, but he did. I’m very thankful that he’s finally come around after all these years and now we’re renewing our relationship as father and son.
This past year I was asked by the founder of the Greater Philadelphia Flag Football League (GPFFL) to step in as commissioner when he relocated for a new job. I’ve been very active in the gay community and gay sports leagues in New York and Philadelphia and welcomed the opportunity to take the GPFFL to the next level.
If you had told me when I was in high school that one day I’d be the commissioner of a gay sports league, I wouldn’t have believed you. I wouldn’t have believed that such a thing even existed. I would have told you that you’re crazy. When you grow up in a rural area not knowing any other gay people, or even that being gay is an option, the idea of meeting another gay person—let alone a whole football team of amazing gay guys and gals—is quite foreign.
So if you’re that kid—maybe a nose tackle or the defensive end for your high school or college football team—living in fear, who doesn’t think he can have the life he wants and doesn’t even realize that something like this might be out there for him one day, I want you to know you can and there is.
This is what it’s all about. The gay community, the friendships, and the relationships we have built. I know it may not seem like it now, but it really does get better. I hope to see you on the football field with us one day!
Wayne Knaub grew up in York County, Pennsylvania and now lives in Philadelphia. He is the commissioner of the Greater Philadelphia Flag Football League, which is open to all LGBTQ people and our allies regardless of skill level or ability. For more information, please visit www.phillyflagfootball.com. This essay originated as part of a video directed by Damian Tracy, featuring members of the Greater Philadelphia Flag Football League. A special thank-you is due to Damian for his excellent work on the video.
MY OWN WORST ENEMY
by Jessica Leshnoff
BALTIMORE, MD
I grew up in a small town in northern New Jersey about twenty-five miles outside New York City. I’m also Jewish, not just culturally so, but I actually care about being Jewish and have a firm belief in G-d. I’ve also always been, as my late grandfather used to say about me as a toddler, “an arch individualist.” I cut my own bangs when I was three. I asked for an Atari for my birthday when everyone else was getting Nintendo. I wrote elementary school fan letters (in cursive pencil) to Jon Bon Jovi beginning with “Dear Mr. Jovi.” I’ve always done my own thing, and, luckily, was always encouraged to do so by my parents.
