Born This Way (14 page)

The 1980s were a challenging decade for coming out, as the news of a “gay cancer” was at its peak. My parents could not understand what AIDS meant. They told me,
“They should take all the gays and people who are infected with HIV and drop them on a secluded island.”
I was devastated. I left home at a young age, joined the military, got married, and had kids. It didn't work. I officially came out at age twenty-six to a still very unsupportive family. My parents disowned me. But
I realized that if they didn't accept me, I had to be happy by myself.
And I'm okay with that, because I know that I was born this way.

Only a young gay boy could strike a pose with a five-pound carp!
I enjoyed playing in the dirt, climbing trees, fishing, and doing archery. I was not into girly stuff, even when my two older sisters dressed me up in pigtails and paraded me around the neighborhood. The word gay didn't enter my vocabulary until about seven years ago, when I figured out that I was gay—after being married for seven years and having two absolutely wonderful sons. I sometimes wonder: Did my mom know all along? I look at this photo now and just
wish I could be that naive and unafraid boy again.
It is so important to get over the fear of simply being you.

Here I'm wearing my favorite shirt from the second grade. I called it my Star Wars Lando Calrissian shirt because it was breezy. But the best part was that only the top had a real button; the rest were snaps.
My best friend
and I played
Dukes of Hazzard
at recess. I always played Bo Duke, and he
ripped my shirt open
during fight scenes. After that he would kick my butt, and I would make him play Daisy Duke to nurse me back to health. Some boys came up one day and said we couldn't play like that, because Daisy was a girl. My friend decided we'd play with them, and one boy who didn't know how to properly rip open a snap-up shirt actually ripped my shirt. I had to sit through class for the rest of the day in that ripped shirt while other kids giggled and called me Daisy—despite the fact that I was clearly Bo. When I told my mom how my shirt got ripped, she gave me one of those looks where
I could sense something had changed between us.
Needless to say, she refused to buy me another snap-up shirt for school. But years later, my mom sent my first boyfriend and me matching snap-up shirts for Christmas. And I think my boyfriend ended up ripping that one, too.

I think this picture is funny because
I'm so excited about my pink Easter basket
—much more excited than my younger sister Denise. Growing up in a small town in Indiana, I always knew I was different from other boys. I had a very high voice all through puberty, and I was so androgynous that it was hard for people to tell whether I was a boy or a girl. I remember having a
huge crush
on my swimming instructor. All through grade school, I much preferred playing with the girls on the playground instead of anything involving a ball. I was a boy soprano until eighth grade, then an alto as a freshman.

Today, my wonderful family accepts my partner and me. They are fundamental Christians who will never approve of me being gay, but they do accept and love me.
Most of the people you're afraid to tell that you're gay
already
know.
They're just waiting for you to be comfortable enough with yourself to approach them with it. It's generally not a surprise to anyone. It's okay to wait until you're comfortable to have a conversation about it. Move at your own pace.