by Dan Savage
I think that being “other”—being bisexual, being gay, being transgendered, questioning your gender, whatever—is so incredibly valuable. It gives you a unique perspective on how to overcome the horrible things that people do to one another in the name of fear, in the name of what they think is religious righteousness. To go through all that and to survive it—without any malice toward those people, with love and forgiveness in your heart, and with acceptance of yourself—is the way to help heal the world. I really believe that you will contribute to that future. I promise you that it gets better. My life is amazing! I travel all over the world; I work with incredible actors. I have a fantastic, fantastic life. So I promise you that it is worth it to stay. Please, please get through this and don’t believe what people say to you about it being your fault, or that you’re weird, or whatever. Screw those people. You know in your heart that you are good. And I know in my heart that you are good.
Khris Brown is an award-winning director for video games, film, and animation. She grew up in Marin County, California, and has lived in Los Angeles, Paris, and London. She currently resides in Oakland, California, with her fantastic spouse and their cat, Scout.
BECOMING AN AUTHENTIC PERSON
by Nicholas Wheeler
SALT LAKE CITY, UT
There are so many people—gay, lesbian, and transgender—who grow up in religious, conservative environments like I did. Who frankly don’t make it out alive.
I was raised in a Mormon home where I learned things about homosexuality that weren’t true. In church and at home I was taught that being homosexual was a made-up thing; it wasn’t something that was natural. It was something that could only bring sadness. When I was in high school being gay was not something I thought about. I thought I would get older and get married to a woman, just like all other good Mormon boys. It wasn’t until later that I realized that this would be impossible. The thought that I wouldn’t fit into the religious mold I was raised in was devastating to me; I knew it would also be devastating to my family. Regardless, I began to realize that I needed to come out, that I needed to be open about who I was. It took me a while but, eventually, I discovered the things I had learned were not correct. Instead, I learned to accept who I was—a gay man—and to trust that I was a good person. Because that’s what I felt like; I felt like a good person. I decided then I wasn’t going to let anybody—anymore—tell me who I was.
It took me a long time; I was twenty-four years old before I decided I was okay, that I could be happy as a gay man, as an openly gay man. Nearly a year later, I came out and suddenly felt free of the intense feelings of self-hatred that I had carried for so long. Some people rejected the new, more honest me; my family felt betrayed and confused. But being honest with myself enabled me to find people who accepted me for who I was, regardless of religion or sexual orientation.
Ever since I made that decision and ever since I decided to think for myself and to trust myself more than trusting others, it’s just gotten better. Every day it gets better. That doesn’t mean life’s not hard sometimes. Sometimes it’s a terrible bitch. But I’m still happy. I listen to myself and I trust myself and I know I’m a good person.
A few months ago, I went to a community festival, and outside the gates of the festival was a street preacher. He was preaching about gays, and he shouted out, “I’m gay. But that doesn’t mean that I’m a homosexual. It means that I’m happy. I’m not a homosexual.”
I was walking by with all of my friends, right at that moment, and I shouted back, “I’m homosexual!” I actually kind of surprised myself by saying it. There was a line of people waiting to get into the festival and, as soon as I said that, everybody cheered. It was such a great moment for me because I realized that I wasn’t afraid to be who I was in front of anybody. And I knew that wherever I was, I would find people who were on my side. It gets better with time. As I became true to myself, my relationships with others became more authentic. That’s a wonderful feeling.
Nicholas Wheeler is an ex-Mormon graphic designer living in Salt Lake City, Utah.
ON THE OTHER SIDE
by Jay A. Foxworthy and Bryan Leffew
SANTA ROSA, CA
“No government has the right to tell its citizens when or whom to love. The only queer people are those who don’t love anybody.”
—RITA MAE BROWN
Jay: When I was a seventeen-year-old kid going to high school in Northern California, I was engaged to my best friend at the time, a woman, and we had a kid on the way. I was a very unhappy young man then. I knew that I was living a lie. I knew that the person I was pretending to be in high school was not the real me.
I could not deal with the fact that I was gay. Raised in a devout Catholic family, I knew that the people I cared most about in my life—my girlfriend, my best friend, my family—would not accept me as a gay man. So I did what I thought was right at the time, and I tried to commit suicide. Luckily, I failed. And before I tell you how my story ends, I want to introduce you to my husband.
Bryan: Like Jay, and a lot of people I know, I grew up in a pretty conservative family where religion was a part of our daily lives. I, too, really fought who I was for a very long time. The hardest coming-out experience for me was first coming out to myself. Even after I acknowledged I was gay, I had to contend with a lot of the fears about what I thought—what I had been taught—being gay meant. I assumed that it meant I was going to be alone, that I was going to be an alcoholic, that I was going to be a pervert who preyed on kids and got AIDS. These were the things I worried about because these were the things that most of the people in my life told me. I had to come out against the backdrop of my family saying, “Oh, if any of my kids were gay, I’d kill them.” There’s a lot of stuff you have to come to terms with when you decide to come out, and you have to be really strong and really courageous to do that. But now I’m sitting on the other side of that battle and I can honestly say that my life is a million times better.
Jay: Bryan and I are happily married and the parents of two wonderful children. I’m a police officer living in California, and I can tell you that life is a whole lot better than it was in high school. And I am very fortunate that I survived two attempts at suicide to get to this place. I understand that sometimes life is scary and it’s hard to really see a future but, if you just give yourself the opportunity, it gets better. Life gets a lot better.
Bryan: You can make it through everything. Not only what your friends throw at you but sometimes even what your family throws at you.
Jay: So hold on and focus on working on yourself. Don’t worry about what other people think about you. Once you get through those tough times, I guarantee you, the payoff is worth it. Someday you’re going to meet the man, or woman, of your dreams and you’re going to create a life for yourself with family and love and security that you can’t even believe is possible today.
Born in Santa Rosa, California, Jay A. Foxworthy is forty years old. He served four years in the U.S. Army in the Persian Gulf and has an AA in criminal justice. He has been a police officer in San Francisco for fifteen years. He met Bryan Leffew sixteen years ago in college. Bryan is thirty-eight years old and was born in Santa Rosa, too. Jay and Bryan have been domestic partners for thirteen years and married for two years in the state of California. Five years ago, they adopted Danile, age ten, and Selena, age five. As a family, they started their YouTube channel, Gay Family Values, right after Proposition 8 passed. They have been trying to change straight people’s hearts and minds with their videos.
BULLY ME
by Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum
NEW YORK, NY
I’m the senior rabbi at Congregation Beit Simchat Torah in New York City, and I am a lesbian.
There are those who say that God hates gays. There are those who say that HaShem has given us all challenges, and your challenge is to overcome your feelings: Either be celibate the rest of your life or be with opposite-sex partners. There are those who say we are ei
ther criminal or sick or sinful. None of these are true.
We are all created in God’s image—all genders, all sexual orientations, all races, all sizes—all of us. All different types of kids are bullied, but the bullying is the same. Cowards who are full of shame and rage take it out on those of us who are different: smaller, smarter, differently abled, immigrants, gay-looking kids, girls who aren’t cheerleader types, kids with accents, kids with two moms, two dads, kids with a mentally ill parents, and the list goes on and on and on. But we are all created in God’s image, betzelem Elohim barah otam. Anyone who says differently is mechalel HaShem, blaspheming God’s name.
I know this message might not be enough. When I was younger and living in the closet, I thought that I was the only living lesbian on the planet. I even went to a psychiatrist to make me straight. We’ve come a long way since I was your age, and we still have so far to go.
If you are feeling this kind of hurt, I ask you to hold on. You are not alone. You are sacred, and you are beautiful, and there are people who care about you. I am one of them. So are the over eight hundred members of CBST, the world’s largest synagogue for people of every sexual orientation and gender identity. We may not be in the same state right now, or even in the same country, but we care about you and there are communities and people like ours all over the world. E-mail me if you are feeling alone. I will work with you to get you the support you want. Find other kids who are being marginalized for who they are. Pray, knowing that God is on your side, and that God thinks you are fabulous.
And a word to the bullies out there, I know that most people who bully others for being gay or looking gay are often struggling with their own feelings of isolation, loneliness, and often their own sexualities. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Contact me to talk. And if you don’t agree, contact me to bully me. I’m a lesbian and I’d rather you bully me than a thirteen-year-old kid.
We are all created in God’s image. Now let’s live up to it.
Originally created as part of the Strength Through Community Project of Congregation Beit Simchat Torah in New York.
Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum serves as the spiritual leader of Congregation Beit Simchat Torah, one of America’s oldest and largest faith-based LGBTQ organizations. She is regarded as one of the most important rabbis in America, and was named one of the top 50 American rabbis by Newsweek magazine and The Jewish Week. The subject of a profile in The New York Times, among many other articles and books, Rabbi Kleinbaum has lectured and published widely. She is a graduate of the Frisch Yeshiva High School and Barnard College, and was ordained by the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College. Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum can be reached at [email protected].
TO THE BULLIES
by Tristan Jackson
SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA
Everyone’s talking to young gay people who have been bullied in school, trying to explain to them that things get better, and to hang in there, but I want to have a little chat with the bullies.
I’m twenty-five, so let’s go back ten years, to when I was a fifteen-year-old high school kid. I was quite an artistic teenager and I got picked on for being gay. I’d get pushed and shoved and called “fag.” It seems silly now to think that being called a fag would be that upsetting but, you know, when you’re fifteen, school is your whole world. So it really did hurt. I remember one time someone had graffitied a bench at school, writing vicious things about me on it. And another time, someone spat at me. There were some pretty awful, pretty hard times.
But here we are ten years later. Let me just put it this way: I live in a great city, have a great job, make a good living; life is good. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t checked out those same bullies on Facebook to see what kind of lives they were living today. I’m happy to say they look like losers. The thing about these people is that no one is born homophobic, no one is born racist. These ideas are given to them by their parents or religious fanatics, or other negative role models, but when they take on those prejudices and hatreds as their own, it doesn’t make for a good, happy person, or a happy life.
Those guys that made fun of me in school? They are pretty much all still living in the same hick town, and they’ve all got crappy jobs, and they look like awful. They look old. They look like they’ve had long, miserable lives already. I am sure there are many reasons why people’s lives turn out this way. But I can’t help but think that harboring hatred, and spending a lot of your time and energy when you’re in school making someone else’s life hell, can’t be good for you.
You know how people always say bullies are really the ones that are insecure? Like they’ll find someone weak in a pack to make fun of so they feel better about themselves, and when you’re fifteen you think, “Oh, that’s just something old people say.” But I’m old now, and I’m telling you it’s true!
If you were completely content and happy with yourself as a person, then you would have no reason to try to bring other people down. When you’re calling someone a fag and giving him hell, what are you trying to achieve exactly? What good is this doing you? What is this giving you? You might think it’s funny, but I’m betting it’s probably got a lot more to do with your own feelings of inadequacy, something deep down inside you, something that you’re probably not even aware of yet.
The point is, bully, you might have a couple of pin-headed minions hanging around you, telling you that you’re cool and funny, but you’re really not. There’s not some glamorous, amazing life ahead for you. There is only one direction for people like you and that is down. You are a loser and you always will be. But the world needs assholes, and bullies, and haters like you to make the rest of us shine. Enjoy the power you think you have now, because I promise you it’s not going to last. Soon enough, high school will end, and the people you torment will be free of you. But you’re stuck with you forever, and you deserve it. Fuck you. Okay bye.
TJ is an online video blogger from Sydney, Australia, whose videos range from movie reviews, to celebrity gossip, and LGBT activism. He loves music, movies, and photography. His ultimate vacation destination is New York, and his favorite living celebrity is Lady Gaga. To see more of TJ’s videos, check out his YouTube channel, http://youtube.com/TabloidJunk.
THE GOOD FIGHT
by Kristel Yoneda
LOS ANGELES, CA
To put it simply, high school really, really sucked. I went to a small school in Honolulu. There were only about fifty some kids in my graduating class. As a junior and a senior, I was trying to figure out who I was, not only in terms of my sexuality but as an individual. I didn’t receive the warmest reception. Some people were really awesome, and for that I’m really grateful, because I don’t know if I would have survived high school without them. But, in general, it was a hostile environment.
People were always talking behind my back, calling me a dyke, calling me a lesbian. Some people didn’t want to interact with me because I was gay. Some people assumed that because I’m gay, I liked all girls. All of this, and other ridiculous stuff, made it really difficult for me to feel comfortable being myself in high school.
One day during my junior year, I got called into the office in the middle of class. I thought that maybe my mom had left me a message, but it turned out the counselor wanted to speak to me. So we sat down and we made small talk for a little while, and then she said, “You know, there are these rumors going around that you’re gay. You’re not gay, are you?” She didn’t say it in an accepting tone, like “If you’re gay, it’s okay. This is a safe environment.” No, she said it in a way that conveys the message, “You’d better not be gay. Do not tell me that you’re gay.”
I was shocked. Before I could even process the question properly, before I could even really answer, I just flat-out denied it. But she continued asking me, “Are you gay? Are you gay? Are you gay with your friend, I heard she’s gay, too.” And I kept denying it. “I’m not gay, my friend’s not gay. We’re not gay together. None of us are gay.” Finally, she just looked and
me and said, “Well, I heard she’s a slut.” I didn’t know what to say to that.
Had this conversation happened today, it would have gone so much differently. I would have stood up for myself. I would have stood up for my friend. But then, I was only fifteen years old, and I was talking to someone I was supposed to be able to confide in. After all, she was an authority figure that I was supposed to feel safe with. And, in that one moment, she destroyed all the faith I had in the system. From then on, I knew I really couldn’t be myself in high school.
She sent me back to class because I didn’t tell her what she needed to hear, I guess. It took every ounce of will in my body to hold it together, and I didn’t even succeed at that. I went back to my desk and cried. I didn’t tell anybody what happened, not even my friends, until way after graduation. I was really embarrassed and scared. And after that, I was just counting the minutes until the end of high school.
I am really glad that I held on, though, because it gets better. It gets so much better. Those people who treat you like crap now—in a few years, they’re not going to matter. You’re going to meet people who love and accept you for who you are. If you’re feeling alone, I’m going to remind you that you’re not. Talk to your friends. Talk to your family about it if you can. Talk to a counselor . . . maybe not so much in my case, because that didn’t go very well . . . but talk to somebody. I remember that when I was in high school, I talked to a lot of people online and they were a really great support system for me. In college, I met some amazing individuals and I recently moved to Los Angeles to pursue my dreams as a fiction writer. Life has been a struggle, but it’s a good fight. One worth sticking around for. It truly, truly gets better. It really, really does.