Braxton, 20, Auburn, AL
I highly hold on to my evangelical roots even though they sort of slapped me in the face a little bit. But I grew up believing certain things, and just because I’m gay doesn’t mean they don’t make sense to me anymore.
There are some things I have to rethink and put different spins on. And people will say, “Well, you didn’t think homosexuality was right until you came out of the closet.” Well, I wasn’t open to discovering new things, and this puts the Scripture into a different light.
Until I started at Auburn, I went to a private evangelical Christian school in Memphis. I realized I was gay in probably the seventh grade, but if I had come out then I would have been expelled. The general consensus at my school, drawn from Romans 1, was that it wasn’t a sin to be attracted to men but that it was a sin to act on that attraction. And so I always said to myself, “I’m in the clear as long as I don’t do anything or tell anybody.”
Even since coming out, I am still more conservative than a lot of college students about sex and sex acts. I had a phase where I experimented, but I’d never say it was whorish or slutty. I had to think, it’s not legal for me to get married, so what is marriage for us? I decided it’s when two people are completely devoted to each other. It’s completely exclusive. I plan on not having serious sexual relations with someone until I get to that point. I think this cuts down on the drama and makes emotional detachment a lot easier, and I think it makes sex more special. My grandmother always raised me to be a Southern gentleman. She kept pennies in her purse and any time I said “yes, ma’am” or “no, ma’am” or held a door, she gave me a penny. I am a gentleman, and I think that intimidates some guys.
I came out by accident last year, during my first semester at Auburn. I was studying for a test with a friend and he was like, “I have a question and you just have to be honest. Are you gay?” I thought, I can lie like I’ve done a million times before or I can tell somebody and see how it feels. I said, “Yeah, I find other guys attractive.” And he’s like, “Oh, I was just wondering.” I was like, “That was it? No pitchforks or fire?
My first kiss with a boy — we’ll call him Boy X, since he wouldn’t want his name used. After I joined the Auburn Gay-Straight Alliance (AGSA), I thought this boy was cute so I asked if he’d want to hang out in my dorm sometime. We watched Milk. And I had some beer shoved in my closet. And Boy X is a big fan of beer. And we’re sort of chit-chatting back and forth. I’m asking what it’s like to be gay. I asked if he’d ever kissed anybody. And he said — actually, I forgot what his response was. I was too focused on saying, “Do you mind if I kiss you now?” And he said yes. And that was my first kiss with a boy.
My dates never last more than two weeks. I do want a relationship, but I have a full life on campus. I’m a zoology major. I came to Auburn because their zoology program is well regarded. I’ve known I wanted to work with reptiles since I was five. Both my parents are veterinarians, and my mom had a snake in college. His name was Alex and I’d see pictures and be mesmerized. When I was nine, my mom let me have a snake. I was like, “Having a snake would be the best thing.” The next year I bought one with my own money, and it just kind of snowballed. I’ve taken care of over 100 reptiles between then and now. Tiki is eight. He’s the only one I have here. He’s about to hibernate soon.
I’m also the political affairs director of AGSA. One of my projects this year is getting a local Episcopalian church more involved with the group, because a lot of people have been really stung by their church and given up on religion.
Now that I’m so involved with AGSA, I’m one of the few people who are the face of the gay community at Auburn. I’ve been thrown out of fraternity parties before. I carry a knife with me, because I’m such an open figure on campus.
Still, any university you go to is kind of a liberal pocket. We’re supported here. Anything outside of campus is different. On campus we only face opposition from highly religious groups and good ol’ Southern boys who are ingrained in what a man looks like and feel threatened by anything else. But when people walk by the AGSA booths and say “faggot” or something, we are just like, “Really? You mean, I’m gay?” We’re kind of smart-asses about it.
As told to Diana Scholl.
Photo by Laurel Golio, taken at Auburn University, Auburn, AL, 2010
To tell your story, email hello@wearetheyouth.org
Michelle, 20, Bronx, NY
My fiancé and I had a discussion about me dressing up as Michelle. When I told him I wanted to be fully transgender, he said he didn’t want me to have the operation. Tom’s worried about my safety. I would like to start hormones, but I feel like I pass as a woman already. I have man boobs. I’ve had them since I was 11 years old.
My fiancé and I met last year when I was living at the Ali Forney Center. Ever since then, we just started calling and talking to each other. Living in a shelter, things get stolen. My money, my wallet and my IDs were all taken. When I finally told Tom, he said, “Move in with me.” I said, “Okay.” Ever since then, we’ve grown a little more. He proposed in March. It was a total surprise. I think I have a total Cinderella package.
Tom is 43. Some of my friends grill me about the age difference. Age is nothing but a number. You’re not going to pass the opportunity for having true love. He is guiding me right now. He loves me no matter what.
Other than Tom, I also get strength from my grandfather, who pushed me to take what has happened and give me a chance for freedom. He calls me sometimes, but he knows I’m kind of in hiding from my immediate family.
I can’t say I don’t miss my family. I will miss them, especially my little brother. They don’t pick up their cell phones. I’ve left emails, messages, et cetera. It really hurts, but I have to live with it.
I think my mom is upset that I left her. The fact is that I was the one who did everything for her. I’d make coffee, make breakfast, do homework, get the other kids ready. After school, I’d go to work, come home and do the same thing over again. She’s pissed because she lost the one kid who did anything for her.
A lot has happened with my family. The story starts in my hometown: Mobile, Alabama. I came out as gay to my mother at 13. She knew my stepfather wouldn’t like the fact that he had a gay son, so she didn’t tell him until I was 18. She was right. I got kicked out when he found out.
The next night I had to sleep in one of the sheds at Home Depot. I walked 23 miles to get to my grandfather on the other side of town. My grandfather paid my way to come up to New York by bus.
In New York I was living with my cousins, but we got into some arguments and disagreements and I had to leave. My grandfather had to go back to India, so I didn’t have his help in the same way anymore.
After I left my cousin’s place I went to the Belleview Men’s Shelter, but I was too young. They referred me to Sylvia’s Place, where you have to sleep on the floor. Then I got accepted into Ali Forney.
Through friends at Ali Forney, I became a member of the activist group, Fierce. It was actually at Fierce’s annual Halloween party that I first dressed up as a woman. I feel more comfortable in women’s clothes. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always played with my mother’s high heels.
Fierce has helped me become an activist and a better person. Through Fierce, I also volunteer for Queers for Economic Justice. Now I want to become a psychiatrist. I want to defend the people who can’t really defend themselves. I want to give them what I learned.
As told to Diana Scholl.
Photo by Laurel Golio, taken in Bronx, NY, 2011
To tell your story, email hello@wearetheyouth.org
Sarah, 19, Brooklyn, NY
In Japan, if you have tattoos you’re in the mafia. When I saw my grandmother in Japan I had to cover mine up because she’d reject me as part of the family. I also couldn’t tell my grandmother I was gay. Having tattoos and being gay and going to art school? She’d be like, “What are you doing with your life?”
I’m half Japanese and half white. When I’m in America I feel more Japanese, but when I go to Japan I feel really white. It’s strange because I don’t really have a home. My mom has lived in America for 30 years but says she views her time here as an extended vacation. I asked her if she wants to move back to Japan, but she said she’s too old at this point. She’s basically cut off ties with my dad, so I told her she should do what she wants.
I was born and raised in Minnesota, but I didn’t really speak English until I was five. Now English is my primary language. I think in English. I dream in English. My Japanese is slowly fading.
My father doesn’t speak Japanese and my mom’s English is pretty bad. Growing up, I’d talk to my mother in Japanese and my father in English. We were rarely able to communicate as a group.
I’m really tight with my mom, and she’s awesome. Now I don’t really talk to my dad. His personality and my personality don’t get along well. I haven’t talked to my dad about being gay because we don’t talk, but I think he knows.
My mom knows and she understands and is awesome. In emails she told me, “I accept who you are, blah blah blah.” But a month ago she asked me, “Are you having gender troubles? Do you want to convert genders? Is it because of your father? Do you want to be a man?” And I told her, “It’s okay, I like being a girl, relax.” I had to calm her down a little bit.
I don’t think I officially ever came out. It was more of a gradual process. Straight kids don’t have to announce their sexuality, so I don’t think I should have to either. My junior year of high school I went to Oxbow, an arts program in California that has students from all over the country. I guess it was that classic coming-of-age experience for me. It was the first time I was independent and I had to figure out how to live. After that I started being more open about being gay.
Since I moved to New York I started being part of the queer community more. My roommate Mars and I started going to concerts, shows, fundraisers and political things a couple nights a week — whatever was happening. Minnesota has a queer community, but it’s not as visible and accessible as in New York.
I definitely chose my college based on location and the whole experience of living in New York, including the queer scene. I applied to the Cooper Union when I was a senior in high school and was rejected, so instead I went to the School of Visual Arts, but I figured I’d apply a second time to Cooper Union as a transfer student. I didn’t expect to get in, but I did. I was really surprised.
I’m going to be studying fine arts and visual arts in general. I don’t really know what I want to do career-wise, but I’ll figure it out along the way. When I grow up I want to be relevant.
As told to Diana Scholl.
Photo by Laurel Golio, taken in Brooklyn, NY, 2012
To tell your story, email hello@wearetheyouth.org
Elliott, 21, Bronx, NY
I’m lucky I already had my kids before I got HIV. I became HIV-positive June 16, 2011, in Florida. It was with a real female and the condom popped. She knew she was HIV-positive but didn’t tell me. I was so angry.
Then I came to New York in August, because it was too slow with the medicine in Tampa. My homeboy said he’d get me one of his private doctors, but then someone told me in New York they have a program to help with benefits.
When I came to New York, my girlfriend Honesty and I were looking for a shelter. I stopped at Housing Works because I heard there was a shelter on Pitkin. I met Johnny and I asked if it was a homeless shelter. He said it was for people with HIV and AIDS, and asked if I was HIV-positive. I said, “Yes, I am.” After my test results came back, he got me signed up for HASA — a program in New York City that provides housing for people with AIDS — to get me into housing and offered me a job. He said I can do outreach to the youth.
My goal is to be an outreach specialist. My Plan B is to drive trucks. My other Plan C is to be a good daddy to my kids. I came a long way from where I was when I was a little boy. My life story is a whole different thing. When you live without a mother and your father passes away when you’re five, staying in the city of Tampa is rough.
I ran away from foster care at the age of 10. I didn’t like my foster care people. They didn’t treat me right. I stayed on the streets, sleeping on benches. How I survived was stealing from Wal-Mart to get clothes and soap to wash my body.
I learned how to sell dope at the age of 11. I didn’t want to sell at the time, but I had to do what I had to do to get my money. After that, I started getting in trouble. I got my first gun, a 9-mm, and started using my gun to break into people’s houses. We used to take the TVs and take them to the pawnshops.
I didn’t care about my life. I didn’t have no family. I didn’t have no brother, I didn’t have a mom, I didn’t have a dad. I kept on going to jail. I went to a juvenile program in Tallahassee at the age of 12.
When I went to jail, my first day in Orlando I got stabbed on the side of the ribs. I did the five years, but it felt like I was doing 20 to 25. I didn’t have nobody to talk to, nobody to send me canteen. It was like gang banging.
I got my GED in prison, because when I was a youngin’ I wasn’t attending school like I was supposed to. But I didn’t want to get locked up again. I didn’t want to be the type of person who keeps coming back.
As told to Diana Scholl.
Photo by Laurel Golio, taken in Brooklyn, NY, 2011
To tell your story, email hello@wearetheyouth.org
