Making Good Choices
When I was nine years old, I locked myself in a bathroom and threatened to kill myself. I had no idea how to do so, which of the medicines would be harmless, how much one should take. I was at A.F.'s house. She had been the new kid in my fourth grade class. No one had wanted to talk to her, and I was always the kid who approached those children, even in Montessori school where I was moderately popular. We had become fast friends, pretending to be twins, playing "the old days," and watching The Sound of Music until we knew every song and dance. Then, on her tenth birthday, A. had a sleepover party. She invited all the girls who made fun of her, along with me, and in the morning, she would not speak to me. She never spoke to me again, and I was 20 before I knew why.
I was lucky, as gay kids go. My parents had plenty of gay friends. I have an older cousin who is a lesbian. Even so, the story of being gay in mainstream America is the story of choosing, over and over again, to live. I learned to hate myself very young, long before the episode at A.F.'s house. I didn't consciously know I was gay until I was 14, but I knew I was strange and not good enough long before that. I knew I didn't like boys, so I pretended to. (NB: Fake it till you make it doesn't work for homosexuality.) I knew I was smart, so I buried myself in books, mostly novels, and those are still what I prefer to read. Reading took me away. It took me away from parents who were less than stable, who had convinced me that I was not intelligent or capable enough, that I would always be grubby and inadequate for anything but drudgery. It took me away from the frightening reality of living life as a gay person. I considered suicide many times over the years, but I was very lucky to have my cousin, my godparents, and my faith in God to sustain me. Many children and teens don't have that. Many of them don't make it.
Living an honest life is a struggle. I have been rejected by friends and family, and have lost others through silence. Yet I do not regret it. I want just this: to live a good life, to help someone else, and to learn (as William Blake said) to bear the beams of love. I don't want to put myself in the spotlight, but if it will save someone else, that's where you'll find me. For me, this is what we are remembering in June: the struggles and joys of our lives, the ones who didn't make it, and the people who are still here and need our help. This is how, every June and every day, I do what Jesus asked me to do. I choose life.
I was lucky, as gay kids go. My parents had plenty of gay friends. I have an older cousin who is a lesbian. Even so, the story of being gay in mainstream America is the story of choosing, over and over again, to live. I learned to hate myself very young, long before the episode at A.F.'s house. I didn't consciously know I was gay until I was 14, but I knew I was strange and not good enough long before that. I knew I didn't like boys, so I pretended to. (NB: Fake it till you make it doesn't work for homosexuality.) I knew I was smart, so I buried myself in books, mostly novels, and those are still what I prefer to read. Reading took me away. It took me away from parents who were less than stable, who had convinced me that I was not intelligent or capable enough, that I would always be grubby and inadequate for anything but drudgery. It took me away from the frightening reality of living life as a gay person. I considered suicide many times over the years, but I was very lucky to have my cousin, my godparents, and my faith in God to sustain me. Many children and teens don't have that. Many of them don't make it.
Living an honest life is a struggle. I have been rejected by friends and family, and have lost others through silence. Yet I do not regret it. I want just this: to live a good life, to help someone else, and to learn (as William Blake said) to bear the beams of love. I don't want to put myself in the spotlight, but if it will save someone else, that's where you'll find me. For me, this is what we are remembering in June: the struggles and joys of our lives, the ones who didn't make it, and the people who are still here and need our help. This is how, every June and every day, I do what Jesus asked me to do. I choose life.