When I was in middle school, I found out about the word gay.
I didn’t find out what it truly meant until later, but when I first discovered it, it came from my peers who shouted it as slurs at people who didn’t fit into the mold our society had created. It came in the forms of mocking insults, angry voices of students blind to the result. They quickly taught me that being gay wasn’t okay, but not blatantly. They taught me silently, for if they said it out loud, they would be seen as a horrible person. But subliminally, silently, it was fine to say those awful things.
When I was in middle school, I found out what gay means.
I couldn’t see the problem with it, but my peers refused to let go and accept. I knew if I made one wrong move, the slur would be turned my way, its angry red eyes tormenting me like the others. I did my best, sat away from other girls, kept them at arm’s length; I didn’t even call girls pretty unless I had to. I did my best to ensure I stayed under their radar, out of sight and out of range. I didn’t admit to anyone when I first started thinking girls were cute, not even myself.
When I was in middle school, they called me gay.
I couldn’t understand why. I had done my best but their relentless eyes had spotted me, through the façade and disguises. The other horrible things they called me didn’t even compare to the shock that ‘gay’ caused me. ‘fat’, ‘whore’ ‘bitch’ ‘freak’ never fazed me as much as that one, three letter word. I tried desperately to change it, going as far as to date a boy, but even then the rumors didn’t end all together. I tried desperately to convince the world I was straight, I tried desperately to convince myself. My friends didn’t address the rumors, but I knew they had heard them. I didn’t tell one of them, not even my best friend. I couldn’t even admit it to myself.
When I was in high school, I couldn’t understand.
When I tried to kiss a boy, I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t understand why all my friends were obsessed with male celebrities. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t relating to anything they taught me in health class. I couldn’t understand why the thought of dating a boy made me so uncomfortable. I couldn’t understand why girls were so cute, and why my friends didn’t see it. I couldn’t understand that I had a crush on a girl. I had convinced myself I was straight, and I couldn’t understand why boys didn’t intrigue me. I refused to even think I was gay, that I was any of the horrible things those kids called me. I wasn't ready to explore that path until a year later. I found out I was asexual, and from there I carefully, gingerly, started researching, exploring.
When I was in high school, my friend found out.
She noticed me looking at girls and she noticed how silent I got when everyone talked about boys. She noticed the articles on homo-romantic asexuality I read so often. Later on, I told her about the things I didn’t understand and it all made sense for her. She found out how much I was struggling by myself. She brought me to our school’s rainbow alliance later that week. I met everyone, stayed quiet, but felt safer and more at home than I had in years. She and I started going as actual members, and I didn't miss a single one. I found myself looking forward to every meeting, and I found myself letting my mind explore those thoughts I had forbidden myself to think only 2 years ago. I helped plan and lead workshops for our school’s teachers, students, and parents on LGBTQIA+ issues and how to make our school a safer space. By the end of the year, the president of the club made me and that very same friend the
co-presidents.
When I was in high school, I came out.
It started slow, one person at a time. I was scared, but after each time, it got better and easier. At first, I would cry before and afterwards, terrified that that would be the last time the person would talk to me. But soon, I came out to a big group of people, shaking the whole time, and nearly crying tears of joy afterwards when they started clapping. When I came out to my parents and brother, they were fine with it, they have some learning to do, but they accept me. My
co-president/best friend and I got to be presenters at a rainbow youth forum and speak about the work we’ve been doing, and have been invited to train students at other schools.
I’m almost done high school, and for the first time in my life, I’m proud of who I am.