Last summer I decided to stay home from the camp of my Zionist, socialist youth movement, and I hung out in the West Village on the Pier with a lot of queer kids. In some ways I regret it, since my youth movement is where I’ve met most of my closest friends, and it means more to me than really anything in my life. But in some ways I don’t. That summer allowed me to be around queer people I really respected and queer people that I didn’t.
But now I feel like I have a cultural disconnect with the whole Pier scene. It’s not like I don’t respect them because they come from a different background or anything like that. I just don’t really share very much with them, whereas I share a lot with my youth movement friends who are also into activism and have life experiences similar to mine, as we all come from Jewish families.
On some level I want to be involved in the environment of the Pier, but there’s a lot that’s wrong with it: a lot is centered around careless sex and clubs and drugs. I kind of approach my involvement there in the future from a place of activism, which I feel sort of bad about because it makes me feel like I’m self-righteous or something.
Activism is the most important thing to me. Above all, I believe in the equality of human value. In the first slam poem I ever wrote, the first line was, “What I want to say today is an exact call to action causing warm interaction between people of different identities, ethnicities, not based on pity or even ethics committees, a change in attitude, the conclusion of a feud gone on far too long.” It was about xenophobia and how essentially we’re all human and deserve the same rights. I can’t say I was an activist when I was five, but since sixth grade, at least, I remember giving my grade presentations on the genocide in Darfur. I guess I was kind of a strange child.
I’m leading an environmental group at school. I’m in the process of becoming a madrich, which is a guide, in the youth movement. I’ve been involved with my school’s Gay-Straight Alliance since seventh grade, which was when I first started coming out while I had this huge crush on a girl in my youth movement.
My parents have been promoting activism from a young age. My tradition with my mom used to be to go to a rally in D.C. every year. It’s like my parents are these amazing people who’ve done amazing things and want me to get involved in activism, but at the same time, I remember my mom talking about this lesbian couple, and saying, “On a political level, should they have rights? Of course. But do I agree with them on a more personal level? Not really.” To me, there’s a conflict of interest there.
Now school’s starting tomorrow and I’m feeling alright. I’m focused on homework and trying to get back into the normal swing of things. I’m very pensive, thinking about how I can facilitate my own happiness at the same time as my family’s level of comfort. If I succumb too much to their demands I feel like I’m selling out and not being myself. At the same time, I want to make it easier for them.
As told to Diana Scholl.
Photo by Laurel Golio, taken in Croton, NY, 2010
To tell your story, email hello@wearetheyouth.org
It’s only been three months since I came out as transgender, but it’s been a long journey. When I was very young, I’d use male pronouns for myself and was really adamant about it. But then I realized I was a girl, and fit the stereotype. When I went to a transgender meet-up group a few months ago and talked to transgender people, I realized how they felt was exactly how I felt.
Me and my friend were brainstorming boys’ name ideas. He was like, “Oh my God, I have the best idea,” and thought of Jesse. So I went to Starbucks and said my name was Jesse and they totally believed me. It was awesome and I just kept doing it again. I changed my name on Facebook. A few people asked about it, and I said, “Oh, it’s an inside joke.” I’ve told a few people, and I want to come out on my own terms.
My sister and my friends who know call me Jesse. My parents don’t. One of my friends calls me Mr. Anonymous.
At the beginning of freshman year I came out as a lesbian at school, but I’m not out as trans yet. I go to a religious school, and I’m the first openly queer person there. I didn’t know that I was the first one until I came out. I was like, “Oh my God, I’m so scared.” And I saw it as an opportunity. I had to help start the Gay-Straight Alliance. But they don’t publicize the things we do and won’t let us be an official club.
The first time I ever, ever came out as gay, I was 10. Everyone in my bunk at camp was talking about boys. I had a revelation, and was like, “I like girls.” I just kind of did it. I didn’t think of the implications. It’s a very supportive place. The girls were like, “Who do you have a crush on?” I dated this girl at camp a few years ago, and everyone found out. My younger sister came up to me and was like, “Are you gay?” It was hard for me to know she knew before I told her. My mom already knew I was gay. I was like, “Remember when I was 11, and I said I was a lesbian?” and she’s like, “I don’t care.”
When I said I was trans it was a different story. My parents were like, “You don’t know what you’re doing.” My sister tried to stand up for me.
I don’t think I’ll go on hormones until I’m at least in college. My parents are not on board yet. My parents took away my binder. My mom’s like, “I don’t know the health risks of this.”
I feel very uncomfortable right now. I know there are very few people who really respect me. No one will look at me as a guy. It’s hard for me to accept, but I know I have to give my parents time.
As told to Diana Scholl.
Photo by Laurel Golio, taken at the Center Lane Gay Prom, Yonkers, NY, 2010
To tell your story, email hello@wearetheyouth.org