Are We Really "Born This Way"? (2 of 2)

This is the part of me that you're never gonna ever take away from me,

Throw your sticks and your stones, throw your bombs and your blows,

But you're not gonna break my soul-

This is the part of me that you're never gonna ever take away from me, no.

--Katy Perry, "Part of Me"

When we last left our elementary school heroine, she routinely sat in the shrink's office, utterly confused as to why she was there.

Okay, enough with the third person.

I went to counseling on and off for about three years.  And one day, a lightbulb went off. I thought about Christmas, when I was roughly 6 years old, and I cried when my great aunt got me a Barbie doll. I thought about the Herculean effort it sometimes took for my mom to get me in dresses for church.  I thought about how most of my buddies were boys. I thought about how I was obsessed with baseball and played pretend games in which I was a male detective.

"I want to be a boy. I wish I was a boy" rang in my head.

Although it looks like someone else...even I can admit this is cute. (Age 6)

That's why I'm different, I realized. I'm not a girly girl. Sure, a few of my female friends played wiffle ball with me and also played in the dirt and put baseball cards in their bikes' spokes with clothespins so they sounded, in our minds, like motorcycles.

But those aren't particularly boy-only pastimes. And they didn't say they wanted to be boys. Because that was weird.

They liked to be pretty. They liked to have long hair. I didn't. Therefore, I was weird.

My poor mom, I thought. Don't most mothers look forward to doing the pretty girl stuff with their daughters? Make up and jewelry and hair and painting nails? The only "girly" thing I recall doing with her was going to get my ears pierced when I was 9.

But we didn't play with dolls or any of those things. I did have a dollhouse, but that just served as a place for my G.I. Joes to hang out with Bo, Luke, and Daisy Duke from the Dukes of Hazzard. And I wished I was Bo.

Photo from www.dukesonline.com

Thus began my realization, which deepened over the years, that I wasn't exactly what a little girl should be. At least not in the eyes of most people - including me. Now, that's not to be judgmental of my parents. As a parent myself, I now understand that they did the best they could with what, at the time, was a unique situation. And frankly, they were probably scared for me, and I don't blame them.

After all, these were not the days of Will & Grace, or Ellen, or Melissa Etheridge or Adam Lambert. These were the days when many people were not out, when the AIDS crisis was dominating headlines, when people thought of homosexuals as those crazy people that go to bathhouses and do disgusting things. They didn't have families and houses in middle-class suburbia and normal jobs like normal people....right?

I will never forget the night our family went to dinner at Steve's Steak House, one of our favorite places, and Rock Hudson had recently passed away. I remember my parents talking about it that evening - there was an article in People magazine or something. I somehow figured out that it had to do with other men. And that it was bad.

That, ladies and gentlemen, was the first thing I ever heard about gay people - that you could get sick and die.  That was the first time I even heard of the concept. There was no mainstream "gay community" of which I was aware. It's not like I thought about it and connected it with myself or anything. But because the memory is so vivid, I know I internalized it in some deep, dark place.  The weirdness had a name. And it was bad.

So, I now understand my parents' fears for me. There were also other reasons for their concern and, shall we say, displeasure, about this prospect to be sure, but I know they must have been really worried about my future.

I did make various efforts over the years to "feminize" myself, ever conscious that something was not quite right. I grew my hair out. I got a perm that made me cry when I was a freshman in high school (see "From Hair to Everywhere"). I started hanging out with more girls in late elementary school and middle school and went to sleepovers and talked about boys. In the 8th grade, I had a crush on one of the New Kids on the Block and the band's posters were on my walls. Mom and Dad must have been thrilled.

World's worst perm. The braces and the sweater are great too.

My therapy had ended by then. By the time I was about eleven, my therapist reached the brilliant conclusion that I did not really want to be a boy, that I was completely normal, and that I was smart for my age and confident and driven. He believed that most of the role models I saw in the media exhibiting these qualities were men, so I wanted to emulate them and I looked up to them. He predicted that I'd be fine.

And I am. Just not the kind of "fine" he was thinking of. LOL.

And he was right - I was confident and driven. And I truly did not want to actually be the boy. I simply wanted - subconsciously - to be the hero, and to get the girl. And girls don't get the girls. Not in my world at the time, anyway.  At least I can look back on all of that now and laugh.

I should note that I did have genuine crushes on some boys and even had a few boyfriends. In middle school, I felt relief that I was doing and feeling the things everyone else was. I sort of fit in for a change. But in high school, as the possibility of being gay began to dawn on me, I thought that maybe my crushes or boyfriends could save me. They were wonderful boys, wonderful people with whom I had fun. They were nice to me. I thought that should be enough....but it just wasn't. I wasn't ready to understand then that I didn't actually need saving.

I could say a lot more about my teenage years and my process of coming out and self-acceptance, but that's really not my focus today. I will note that having grown up thinking there was something wrong with me made it a bit harder for me to come to terms with who I am, and for a time I resented that. When I started to figure out that I was gay, I quickly put two and two together, and my therapy and my parents' concern and my childhood interests suddenly made a lot more sense. And I had difficulty knowing that I reached the outcome that everyone was trying to avoid.

But truthfully, it would've been hard anyway. Because even though I had figured myself out, at first I wasn't happy about it. I feared losing my family and friends and the respect of my church community, in which I was very happily active. I thought I would never have a normal life.

I would've given anything as a child to know someone like me, who did get the girl AND have the normal life and career and suburban existence to which I then aspired. Who still had family and friends. Who persevered despite of - or maybe because of - it all.

Me in front of my house. Looks like I made it....

I also would've given anything to have my loved ones tell me it was going to be okay. I don't blame them for not doing that - it was not at all clear back then that things could turn out okay for me. They did the best they could with what they had to work with. It could've been much worse - they could've sent me to ex-gay camp or insisted I participate in "reparative" therapy to change (it doesn't work, folks), or any number of awful alternatives.

And they didn't. They let me play Little League. They let me wear my rugby shirts and converse and way-too-tall striped athletic socks. They supported the things that they could. They just wanted some answers. Although it wasn't money well-spent, which I chuckle about now, it was the best they could do.

On a baseball card! Age 10.

But today we live in a different world. A world where openly gay people live and walk and work among us and - gasp! - it's okay. Sadly, it's also a world in which teenagers and children who are "different," like I was, commit suicide. And yes, it's a world where, because being gay is a part of mainstream consciousness, kids like the boy in the article have crushes on the Glee boys and identify as gay very young. They are born that way.

That HAS to be okay. It just has to be.  Because if it's not, parents will keep disowning kids and kicking them out, kids will keep killing themselves, or turning to drugs and alcohol, or seeking out whatever self-destructive situations and behaviors they can.

That would be an unspeakable tragedy. We know too much now, and we as a society have progressed too much, to let that keep happening.

I am so grateful I didn't give in to my depression and fear and do those things. Somehow I was blessed with more strength than I knew I  had then, and I am grateful for that. Lady Gaga said it best: "I'm on the right track, baby, I was born to be brave."

It was a long road figuring out who I am and what it means to be gay....a road of letting my leg hair grow out in college (but not for long, that was totally gross), of wearing big baggy flannel shirts to obscure my chest, of being the "boyfriend." I had no clue what I was doing. There was no book called How to Be a Dude. I just figured one person in the relationship had to be the guy.

And then, one day, I realized that I didn't have to do any of those things. I didn't have to be the boy to get the girl. I could wear skirts if I wanted to - or a pantsuit - or whatever - and I was still me. I have experimented with a number of looks over the years, but I have always been the same person on the inside. And after traveling that long and winding road, I can honestly say....I like her.

I finally got the haircut I wanted....

Somewhere, I hope some young, scared gay kid is reading this. This is my version of the "It Gets Better" project. It can turn out okay. You WILL be okay. There is a community of people out there who will love and respect and honor and accept you, no matter what happens back home, even if your parents aren't as awesome as the parents of the little boy in the article. Trust me on that.

And also know this - your sexuality may be this big, scary, ominous thing looming large in your mind now - but it does not have to define you. Only you can do that. You can be the leader of the gay pride parade, or you can be the artist who just happens to be gay. It is up to you how to live your life. The people who truly love you will not care. They will love you for who you are, whoever you want that to be. I know my friends don't really care. I'm just another friend to them. I'm gay, but I'm also a parent, a writer, a lawyer, a person who likes pizza.... and the list goes on. I'm, for the first time in my life, kinda "normal." Whatever that is.

So, parents, if your kid says he or she is gay, or if he likes makeup or she likes soccer uniforms, let it be. Some tomboys marry guys. Some don't. Some of the quiet boys who don't play sports marry girls. Some don't. Some young children aren't that self-aware yet. They may be going through a phase they will outgrow. Or maybe they're just already exhibiting shades of the wonderful people they will become. Just think about it - many of us have friends who come out later on in life and we all look at them deadpan, as if to say...well yeah, we know already. I know a few people did that with me!

And yes, some people just know, deep down. Even when you think they're "too young."  Let it be. Many of us are, in fact, born this way. If you recognize your child in any of what I've written - love him. Support her. Make her believe you will always be there for her. Let him know you love him no matter what. It will make all the difference in the world.

There's nothing wrong with loving you who you are, she said

'Cause He made you perfect babe,

So hold your head up, girl, and you'll go far,

Listen to me when I say

I'm beautiful in my way, 'cause God makes no mistakes,

I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way.

--Lady Gaga, "Born This Way"