Things That Matter

The recent publicity around LGBT bullying and suicides has caused me to reflect on my own history.  I don’t often think about my dark days as a gay youth.  Unlike the recent stories in the media, I did not experience much bullying.  Occasionally someone would make a veiled comment about me being in drama -- sometimes I would be asked if I made out with the other guys in the shows or if I had a boyfriend.  But, to my recollection, I was never called the “f” word or gay – the teasing was a bit more subtle.  It would have been much different had I been out.  In my story, I suppose I was my own worst bully.  I didn’t really need an external force telling me I was bad and worthless, I did a very good job of berating myself.  Sure, those inner impulses had to come from somewhere, but I think it was more a broad cultural/religious influence than a specific individual one. 

No matter the situation, the fact that an LGBT youth is four times more likely to commit suicide than other youth is a sobering statistic.  Like many, I had my own flirtation with the idea of suicide.  In high school it was usually just an abstract feeling of wanting to drive my car into walls or off cliffs.  I would pour my soul into dark poetry.  As I was thinking this weekend, I uncovered two very short poems that I wrote around that period of time.  I had not re-read them in a while.  In looking at them now, I am a bit surprised at how ultimately revealing they are.  Each one, a cry for help, I suppose.  Here they are, from the perspective of a young, gay, confused, closeted, Mormon boy:

77

Loneliness grabs with
Urchin arms,
Lunging after love,
Lingering after loss,
Leaving after life.

The Ladder

In the hollow of a lifetime
A soloist raises its voice
Bellowing out the song of sorrow-
The ballad of beauty,
Wells of learning
Sandwiched between the solemn dreams of a fighter.
The wall is high, but the ladder higher
“Fight for Truth!” is the wail of the crowd.
“Fight for Soul!” cries the aching heart . . .
As a tear sears white lines down
The cheek of time,
Another rung is overcome.

A bit tragic and relatively depressing knowing the context, eh?

Along with the rest of the world, as I ponder and think about what can be done to help kids like me, the answer is not unlike the answers of many:  Gay men and women in our society need to live out and proud.  We need to let these kids know that there are options, that gay people are not just the caricatures that they see in movies, TV, etc.  But rather, their next door neighbors.  Our society is definitely making a move in the right direction, but we can and must be better.  (See amazing initiatives such as  The Trevor Project , It Gets Better, and my friend Don’s project, MorMenLikeMe, where you might find my gay Mormon story . . . )

The unique predicament of a gay youth is that they grow up in a vacuum – disconnected from others like themselves.  Unlike most other minorities, a gay kid is usually raised in a home of difference, where they are the outsider.  Traditionally, black children are born to black families, Jewish children are born to Jewish families, Asian children are born to Asian families, so while they may be a minority - different, “other” - they grow up within that otherness, with parents and role models ahead of them in the same boat.  A black child does not have to discover his blackness – a Jewish child does not have to discover his Jewishness – granted, there are exceptions, but usually, this is the case.  A gay child however, has to grow up in the lonely position of discovering and claiming his difference.  Eventually he/she has to come to the realization that “I am not like the rest of you.”  And when these kids are born to families that hold conservative beliefs, beliefs that paint homosexuality as bad, evil, corrupt and perverse, it is even more complicated.  In fact, it’s a wonder any of us survive.  I often think how my life would have been different had I gay role models or people close to me who were out and proud. 

Yes, things have changed; the world is a much different place than it was 20 years ago when I was in the throes of depression.  There is a much greater sense of acceptance in society – but we must not rest.  There are forces that are pushing hard, forces that fuel the bullying and discrimination, forces that give words to the speakers of hate and intolerance.  There are groups striving to “protect traditional marriage” who are instead, sowing more seeds of hate and intolerance.  We can’t allow ourselves to sit idly by and watch.  And as a gay community, in particular, it is our duty to pave the way, to model and to share our stories.  As these recent tragedies have reminded us – it’s a matter of life and death. 

When I think of these kids, I think of their last lonely, desperate moments and it breaks my heart.  If only they knew.  If only they had a concept of the bigger world outside of their limited and tortured experience.  I picture their last moments, as the walls fell in until they couldn’t find room to breathe and the only way out was to pull the escape hatch.  How I wish I could hold them, cry with them, wipe their tears and show them the beautiful reality that was hidden from them.  None of us are blameless, many contribute to the environment of hate that breeds the bullies and self-loathing, others sit idly by, watching the painful drama unfold and others of us have forgotten our struggles, have failed to reach out and light the way for those behind us.

These kids cannot have died in vain.  Please join me.  You can start by educating yourself here . 

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

  Martin Luther King, Jr.