My Coming Out Story

 (This is long. So read it when you have time to read it all the way through)

        Before I tell my story there are a few things you should about me first. I'm a southern born and raised. I say that it takes people in the south longer to accept something than it does in the rest of the country. Mom's side of the family is from Texas and Florida. My Dad's side is from Alabama. That right, the deep south. I'm also African American. There is a reason I told you my race, but we'll get back to that later. For context, it's also important that you know this. Polling data shows that the majority of Americans weren't ok with gay marriage until 2012. 

         Now that we got that out of the way,  let's begin. It was October 22, 2005. George Bush was president and the U.S was currently engaged in the Iraq War. I was eight years old and Dad was in the hospital. Dad was a U.S. soldier stationed in Iraq just a week earlier. He wasn't just a soldier, but a tanker. While operating a tank, somehow a bomb had gotten underneath and blew up the tank. Somehow Dad had survived the explosion. He managed to get up and run back and forth through the fire to save his fellow soldiers. He saved six lives that day, but it came with a cost. He got very badly burned. The U.S. Military managed to transport him to a hospital in San Antonio, Texas.  On October 22, 2005, he was in a hospital bed fighting for his life. Atlas, he was burned too badly with too many internal injuries. He lost that fight and became the 2,000th soldier to die as a result of the Iraq War. (Don't believe me. Google Staff. Sgt. George T. Alexander Jr.)  Mom ran into the waiting room barely holding back tears to deliver me the news and I cried my heart out. In the hospital room was a television and after all these years I remember what was on it. The television was on a news channel and a British citizen had recently been murdered for being gay. (I looked him up. His name was Jody Dobrowski. He was 24.) I remember some people in the room making comments about how he had "deserved to die for going against God's command". (Afterall, it's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. Right???) That is the moment I learned that gay people existed and I didn't know what to think or believe.

    A year later, we had moved to Dallas, Tx. (Because there were too many reminders at home and living in a state of constant sadness isn't good for any one.)  It was the fall of 2006 and I was in 3rd grade. Mom had brought a new car and I was the new kid at school. (F.Y.I  My school went from Pre-K to 12th grade) I had huge thick glasses, a high pitched voice and was..... well a nerd.  (I loved books and loved to read!) So naturally, I got picked on. The kids called me all sort of names. At the time, I still hadn't completely accepted Dad's death. One day at school, I thought I saw him. I was filled with a sudden burst of joy. So I ran to where I thought I saw him and he wasn't there. I had given myself false hope. Somehow, I still naively believed that secretly he wasn't dead and was gonna come back home. When I didn't see him, it was reality crushing that false hope. I did what any nine-year-old whose dreams had been crushed by the cold darkness of reality would have done. I broke into tears. I caused quite a scene that day. I remember being dragged down the hall literally kicking and screaming while all the kids watched. The next day was incredibly awkward. You thought kids called me names before! I was considered the "oversensitive boy", a weakling, a sniveling coward, the cry baby, etc. (Cowardice was for the feminine boys! Real men don't cry!) This is when I first started to get called......you guessed it, a faggot. 

       Let's fast forward to the spring of 2010. I'm in seventh grade. I'm still being called a faggot and still being bullied.(though I'm wearing glasses with smaller frames and voice is deeper.... slightly) It was March of this year that I finally figured out I wasn't straight. (No, I was gay.) I had this huge crush on a boy. He was new to the school. He had the perfect smile and these beautiful green eyes. I thought I was in love! There was just one problem. Everyone already called me a faggot. This would just prove their point. This would justify all the names they called me. Plus, chances were that he wasn't into guys and all I would've done is gross him out and embarrass myself. No, I've got to hide my feelings. He could never know how I truly feel and he never did. 

        Now, remember how I said that there was a reason I told you I was African American. (If you do, then good job.) Mom is religious. I remembered how years ago she gave a standing ovation as a Pastor gave an "It's Adam and Eve. Not Adam and Steve" Speech. (Imagine being gay and sitting through that) Mom, to be fair, had no idea that her son was gay. I remember some of the church members saying "The only homosexuals are those nasty white boys." (That statement is racist and homophobic.) This is how I learned that certain segments of the black community believed that all the stereotypes about gay people were true. (This while they complained about people believing black stereotypes.)    

      Now let's talk about High School. The year is 2012 and for the first time ever the majority of Americans are cool with gay marriage. (Yay!) So was now finally the time to come out? (Many people already expected it.) The short answer was no. I was still being bullied and being called a faggot at school. Mom is religious and I wasn't ready to deal with being possibility shun and disowned by my own mother. Plus, I was struck listening to pastors who preached that I was "willingly bathing in sin and should be outcasted by society " every other Sunday while simultaneously being surrounded by people who thought homosexuality was a "white people thing".  So I waited another two years before I told Mom. It took some time, but she has come around. Goes to a different church and everything. My advice is that you don't come out until you're ready. It took me years just to work up the courage. Some people are not meant to stay in your life. Live life happily. Hope this story helps someone.