Born This Way (4 page)

The most intense day in high school was the day
I tried to explain to my best friend that I was upset he spent so much time with his girlfriend.
Our friendship became awkward from then on. Lots of things happened that I should've realized were gay signs, but there was so little information back then. I simply thought that if I stayed religious, I would outgrow those mystery feelings. This photo of me is my favorite, since
being the piano player at age sixteen kept me popular enough to be included.
But I always felt that I was alone somehow. My life bloomed when I came out, and my partner and I have been together over twenty years.

This photo shows a boy who just won't stop being happy. It shows I have a spirit that refuses to quit. Growing up, one of the biggest challenges for me was asserting my individuality. After a long, drawn-out process,
I finally came out to myself in college.
I realized I needed to be far away from home to really become my true self. Coming out to my family was incredibly painful. It was the early '80s, and my father said he wouldn't even drink out of the same glass as me because I'm gay. He's mellowed a bit since then, but we aren't very close. I wish we were closer. Somehow,
I've been able to keep seeing that happy kid inside myself,
and that has kept me going.

Here I am in my cha-cha costume after winning first place with my partner at a talent show.
This particular pose has seemed to follow me in photos throughout my life.
I was always wearing costumes or hamming it up for the camera. I loved twirling around the living room in a long, ruffled, hot pink gown my mom had for dress-up time. Though I was the only boy in my dance class, I got along fabulously with all the girls.

What I remember most about this pose is that it made my father uncomfortable, and he tried to hurry the photo being taken.
But looking at this picture today, I have to say I love it!

I'm originally from a small town in Nebraska. At the time this photo was taken, I was joyful, giddy, fearless, and ready to perform. I mean, who wouldn't want to dance around on stage and receive all that attention?
I remember being especially excited to see the older girls with their fire batons.
But my baton lessons lasted only one summer. After that I started to get the message that
boys don't twirl the baton or play with Barbie dolls.
It wasn't until I was twenty that I embraced my sexual identity. It took me a long time to get comfortable with this photo, but now I look at it with great affection.

I was that rarity, an only child born to an Italian American family in Brooklyn. Practically from birth,
I retreated into a wall of shyness.
I knew I was different—more sensitive, let's say—than most of the kids in the neighborhood, but I wasn't sure just what that meant.

In 1964, my cousin introduced me to the music of Diana Ross and the Supremes,
the glittery, arm-gesturing Motown girl group,
and that was transformative.
It also gave me something to bond with another male over. But that wasn't sexual. That came later, in 1966, when a loin-clothed hottie named Ron Ely hit the small screen as Tarzan. That's when I knew I was gay, because I couldn't wait to watch the show every week. And when Diana Ross and the Supremes were guest stars on it, I was in gay heaven!

Despite these coded diversions,
I never knew if there was a future for me as a gay man.
There were no out role models and precious little positive information at the time. In fact, homosexuality was considered a disorder! But I hung in there and eventually moved across the bridge to Manhattan, where I found a thriving, creative community that I still belong to. Today, I'm the gayest person on Earth. And I still know every last one of those Supremes' arm gestures.