Born This Way (11 page)

This is a photo of me on my seventh birthday. I loved my Big Josh doll; he was a friend of the Big Jim doll. Even though I had no idea what being gay meant back then,
I knew I really liked that Big Josh doll a lot,
I guess the butch boys would call him an “action figure.”

Growing up Southern Baptist, I was taught that being gay was bad.
My mom thought gay people were mythical beings, “like werewolves or vampires,”
she once said. One time at dinner, when my parents found out I went to a drag show with my then-girlfriend, my father told me he used to go to gay clubs to “beat the shit out of the fags.”

I am only officially out to one of my sisters, but six years ago my mom saw that my MySpace profile status listed me as gay. She sent me a long e-mail asking what she had done wrong as a mother, saying that she couldn't believe her eyes. She hasn't spoken of it since. And I'm sure she didn't share the news with anyone else.

After two suicide attempts, I moved to Los Angeles to reclaim my life.
Today, I have a great boyfriend and I couldn't be happier. I still don't share anything about my personal life with my family. Considering how religious and conservative they all are, it's the best course of action. However, they all have this photo of me, so I'm sure that in their hearts they all know I was born this way.

I grew up in a tough neighborhood, but that didn't deter me from doing the things I wanted to do, in spite of much disapproval. I chose all my own clothes and insisted on walking around dressed like a young aristocrat. A favorite game of mine was pretending to be Miss Piggy, Wonder Woman, or one of Charlie's Angels, as
I hoped to be powerful like them
when I grew up. I was a reflective, quiet child who loved to read and make up stories. I hated sports and getting dirty. Other children made fun of me because I wouldn't play football or rough games. I often sat quietly alone on the playground, and
I never understood why people disapproved of me so much.
Adults despaired at what they considered bizarre tastes for a boy, and they made their disdain known. My father disapproved of my desire to have a dollhouse, so I learned to keep quiet around him. In high school some of my teachers picked on me, so I learned to keep to myself.
Yet I grew stronger as I got older,
and I gained acceptance by hanging about with other boys who were similar to me. I came out at school when I was fifteen, and although it was no surprise to anyone, I wasn't readily accepted. I weathered it all and came through the other side alive and well.

My photo was taken inside our cabin in Saint-Donat, Quebec. It was Christmas morning, and I'd just woken up, very excited to get all my gifts. I sat down beside the fireplace, and
my mother couldn't believe my pose!
She asked me not to move, grabbed her camera, and took the shot. I have amazing parents who always
showed me how to be a great person
and to embrace whatever makes us all different.

Looking at this snapshot now makes me laugh. It's a little embarrassing remembering my habit of licking my lips, turning my head to one side, and squinting just before every picture because
I thought it made me look mysterious.
But it's a habit that paid off years later in the bars when I was learning how to cruise. I came out when I was twenty-three years old. My effort at being straight—marriage and child—failed miserably, and
I didn't see the point in lying anymore.
It wasn't a perfect coming-out experience by any means, but we all survived.