And they
overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony,
Revelation 12:11
Hello
all! Below you'll find a post from a former student of mine who has recently
started blogging (thanks in part to reading this blog). His story of finding authenticity is so
poignantly told I think you'll benefit from reading it....and sharing it to those
who may need to hear it. It's entitled, "Thoughts From a Former
Suicidal Gay Teen." I pray the word of his testimony helps you overcome! Be
Blessed!
__________________________________________________________________________
"This is
a statement piece about my personal experiences growing up, my adolescence, the
troubles and demons I had to face throughout my maturation process, and
ultimately my journey to self-love, acceptance, and ultimate happiness. For the
longest time, I’ve felt compelled to share my story. For one, with the numerous
suicides we have witnessed in this country that alone is a big enough reason to
share my story. Although, I feel my experiences of being not only a gay man,
but also a Black man have had particular consequences that not every person
faces, and unfortunately other individuals like me, their voices are oftentimes
silenced or lost, forever. As I have made the monumental feat of graduating college,
I have felt a heightened sense of awareness of who I am. I am using this
statement piece to share my story, unearth the memories I have stowed away in
the back of my mind, and bring closure to the boy I used to be, and give way to
the man I have always dreamed of becoming. So, this is my story.
My name
is George or “Bubba” as my friends and family call me back home in Whitehouse,
Texas, my hometown. Growing up as a child in Whitehouse was nice, given that I
was a child; I was completely ignorant of things like race, racism,
homosexuality, and homophobia. As a child, I basically knew for certain these
limited things: I loved to dance, sing, and perform, I had a ridiculous
obsession with hot wheels miniature cars, and ever since watching “Stuart Little”
for the first time, I knew I wanted to one day live in New York City. At times,
I often look back on those moments of childhood ignorance with longing: to live
a life where you are too young to understand what it means to be
disenfranchised due to the color of your skin or your sexual orientation, the
predispositions that I had absolutely no control over, sounds like a utopia. I
can definitely say growing up not only gay, but Black in the Deep South carried
particular adversity, both of which have been defining characteristics that
have highly influenced the man that I am today.
I’ll
never forget the moment when my rose-tined perspective of reality quickly
changed. I was 12 years old, in the 6th grade, and this moment
happened in the library, of all places. I was eagerly browsing through the “Non-Fiction”
section, as I loved to read books about different countries and cultures. Even
from a young age, I was intrigued by the life and reality outside the confines
of East Texas, and I knew I one day wanted to discover it. There was a little
blonde girl next to me, and for some reason the librarian called her to the
front desk. “Sarah! Get over here right now!” Given the tone of the woman’s
voice, I knew something had to have been wrong.
Being perplexed of the situation
and curious as to what was happening, I said “Yeah Sarah, get over there.” in a
joking manner. Sarah was not too pleased, at all. I saw her eyes become
enraged, I felt hate for the first time as she barked at me: “Don’t talk to me,
you nigger!” Being only 12, with no prior experience to racism, I had
absolutely no clue what to do. I stood there shell shocked, my stomach turned,
and all I could do was hold back tears while she walked away. What I find most
fascinating is that before this incident, I didn’t have the most precise
knowledge of the meaning of that word, but due to the circumstance, this White
girl barking that word to me in the manner in which she did, spoke more than
any explain could. For the first time, my rose- tinted reality became strictly
black and white. I felt for the first time what it meant to be different, a
feeling I would soon endure for the rest of my life.
As I
matriculated into junior high to the 7th grade, life only preceded
to get worse. Now being 13, I started to go through puberty and I began to
realize that I had a sexual attraction towards men. Ever since I can remember,
I have always had a fondness of men. I would oftentimes have dreams of being
with men in an intimate setting, but when I became a teenager, these sentiments
started to take on a sexualized manner. Even though I was unaware of what “gay”
was at this age, I knew what it meant to like the same sex. I had a very clear
understanding, due to my conservative town and growing up in the Baptist
church, that it was absolutely not tolerated. Given that the members of my
family are devout fundamentalist Christians, I knew that these feelings could
never be exposed. I began to live a double-life, I would play the role of being
heterosexual or “normal” like everyone else, while deep down inside I was well
aware that I was different. I’ll never forget the defining moment when I
realized what “gay” was and its meaning. My sisters and I were sitting in the
living room in front of the television, and a commercial featuring a very
attractive man came on. Without thinking, I let it slip. “He’s cute!” I said,
not realizing the gravity of what I had just said aloud. My sister looked at
me, with a twisted mouth of disgust and said “What are you, gay?” given this
circumstance, I finally connected the meaning of “gay” and its relation to me;
I realized that I was the person that my sister found repulsive. Hastily trying
to rehab this situation, I swore up and down I wasn’t gay and my sister let the
situation pass. This was the first of numerous pathetic attempts of trying to
make the world and myself believe I was heterosexual.
When I
got to the 8th grade, this dark period of my life that was 12-14
years old hit its peak. I’ve never had a personal experience with bullying in
the conventional sense, I was actually fairly popular and liked through my time
in grade school. Yet, I was teased constantly. Every day, and yes I mean
literally every day, from junior high until I graduated high school, I was
called “white boy” or I was claimed to have been “acting white”. Because I was
Black and I was in band, choir, and theatre, I played tennis, soccer, and
cross-country, I was teased relentlessly because I didn’t fit the stereotype of
the Black male that people wanted me to be. In addition to the racial comments,
the teasing also was physical throughout 8th grade. I’ve always had
a stocky build, which occasionally was the butt some jokes, but the aspect that
drove me mad was the insistent speculation of my sexual orientation. Being
called “white boy”, I could take. Being made fun of for being overweight, I
could handle. But the thought of anyone finding out the fact that I was gay was
something I would not tolerate. The fact is, I was never bullied by another
individual, like many other kids are. Yet, the light teasing that I received
every day was just enough hatred for me to internalize, and in time I started
to believe the things being said about me, and I became my own bully. I would
beat myself up for my stocky build; I would have an identity crisis because I
couldn’t understand where a Black boy fit in with this White town. Ultimately,
I gave the most hatred I had towards my sexuality. I felt my being gay was the
main root of all of all of my pain and suffering, and I couldn’t understand why
God would make me in a form that was so hated by the society in which I lived.
Due to
the perpetual fear I lived in nonstop that whole year, I oftentimes considered
what it would be like to no longer have to experience this mental anguish and
torture every day. At the age of 14, while others would be reading in English
class, I would scheme of ways to kill myself in the most convenient and
painless way possible. I had various methods compiled by the end of the year.
My reality during 8th grade was so haunting that I had to take life
day by day. Some days, I wouldn’t be teased as much, and it would be a good
day, while others would be worse, and those methods of suicide became more of
an appealing option. The slightest remark, comment, or joke made at my expense
was enough to send me into a plunge of self-doubt and hatred for the rest of
the day.
The main
reasons why I contemplated suicide for so long was due to the isolation I felt.
Growing up in a small town of 7,000 people, none of which seem to be like
myself, I felt like no one understood me, there was no one that I had enough
confidence to confide in. There were no school administrators that were
available. I didn’t have friends that I trusted which such a sensitive matter.
And my family was not an option, they were fiercely religious but even more
than that, homophobia is a staple in the Black community. The lack of
acceptance for gays penetrates past religion and the intolerance is part of the
society. I felt completely helpless. For years on end, I felt like I was at the
edge of a cliff and I had no one to turn to for help. During this time, there
was no “It Gets Better” campaign. The Trevor Project crises hotline existed but
due to the remote isolation of my town, I didn’t even know such a thing was
available. Although, the biggest reason why I felt suicide was the only option
was due to this simple fact. I couldn’t understand how a gay Black man fit into
this White conservative heteronormative society. So at times, I just felt that
I would be better off dead.
Throughout
this time, I am honestly astonished that I never jumped off of that cliff that
at times, I so desperately wanted. The strength I had to get through those 3
years was not of my own. I found God, and I truly do believe it is through a divine
intervention that I am still living today. Fortunately, when I finally arrived
to high school, life surprisingly took a turn for the better. For the first
time in 3 years, I actually had optimism. For the first time in a long time, I
was hopeful about my future. In high school, I was able to escape the petty
atmosphere from my class mates, and I was able to find more like-minded people.
None of which were gay, but they were more accepting of me than any other
people had been. I became more involved in student organizations and I actually
felt like a part of something, but more importantly, I felt like my life
finally had purpose and reasoning.
One of
the most defining moments of my teenage years was when I went to New York City
for the very first time. Ever since I was a little kid, seeing “Stuart Little”,
I always fantasized what life was like in the Big Apple. I romanticized the
city of being an oasis of tolerance, acceptance, and self-expression that was
unheard of in a small town like Whitehouse. It was the summer of 2008, I was
17, and my mom surprised me with tickets to New York, particularly since I
would be applying to NYU in the fall. That summer changed my life. We were only
there for 6 days, but it only took an hour to have my world turned upside down.
Throughout the week, we explored the city as tourists do, but the last two days
I was allowed to roam the city on my own. Being in the city that I loved,
getting lost in its grid of never ending avenues, I felt at peace, like this
truly was the place I belonged. Coincidentally, I happened to be there the week
of the NYC Gay Pride parade. I’ll never forget the feeling of being in that
atmosphere. Seeing people expressing themselves in their truest manner, without
hesitation, and the unwaivering feeling of camaraderie that I felt being around
people like me for the first time was like a parallel universe. I was
flabbergasted to realize that such a different reality existed for people in
Texas compared to New York. For the first time, I felt acceptance. Not just for
being gay, but for all aspects of who I was. The Black man, the gay man, I was
treated like an individual and I wasn’t homogenized based on my race or what
people expected me to be.
Eventually
I graduated high school, and I ended up going to college in Dallas, Texas. In
college, that was another major turning point in my life for the better. I was
given more freedom to be myself. I could express myself, in limitation, more
than I could back home in East Texas. Also, I was finally able to befriend
people who were openly gay. I had the opportunity to attend LGBT meetings, and
I was finally given the opportunity to come to terms with myself without the
fear of social persecution.
The most
life changing event of my entire life thus far was my junior year of college.
The entire year was like a dream come true for the little boy from East Texas
who dreamed of exploring the world outside of Texas and the United States. I
spent my fall semester studying in Paris, France and my spring semester studying
in Bologna, Italy, followed by a summer-long internship in men’s fashion in New
York City. Again, this must have been another divine intervention, because that
magical junior year away from Texas changed every aspect of my character. I’ll
never forget arriving in Paris for the first time, being in the city I had
dreamed of, like New York, ever since I was a kid reading about the city
nestled in the corner of the library. My semester in Paris was the first time,
in 21 years, that I could completely be myself. I was no longer in Whitehouse,
I was no longer at my university in Dallas, I was in Europe, I was in Paris,
and I was free to finally realize the man I am today. My semester in Bologna,
Italy also passed all of my expectations. I further grew exponentially as a
person, I developed an unshakable confidence, and most importantly, I started
the dismantle the boy who was so full of self-hatred and I learned to forgive
myself for my dark past, accept myself for all that I am, and love myself
unconditionally. In time, I came to realize that happiness, unlike my
sexuality, is a choice. I came to understand that if I truly wanted to be
happy, I can choose to be happy. Summer soon came, and my internship in New
York City was phenomenal. I was beyond excited to be in my city, the same city
that gave me shelter, and for a small moment, showed me another world outside
of Texas for the first time.
After my
junior year abroad and in New York, I came back to Texas a completely different
man. After having tasted the sweet life, I would be dammed if I would go back
to being the shell of a man I used to be. I realized that I had developed a
permanent sense of contentment, acceptance, and mercy for myself, and
ultimately for others. I began to embrace all of the qualities that I used to
loathe. And in time, I began to absolutely love all of the qualities that I was
teased for in grade school. To my beautiful cinnamon colored skin, I love. To
my naturally curly hair that others used to call “white”, I admire. To the
stocky build and extra pounds that I can’t seem to shake, I accept. And
ultimately, for the little boy who for so many years was so close to taking his
own life, I absolutely forgive. Last but certainly not least, to God, who gave
me strength and perseverance when I, myself was at a loss, I give my life.
As I
have finished college, and I am now preparing for my permanent relocation to
the city that started it all, New York, I look back on my life with sheer
astonishment. At 22, when just 10 years ago I was overwhelmed with pressures my
soul was too young to bear, I can say I made it through. There are so many
people who don’t make it to this point, and because of that I am so fortunate
for this life I now have the privilege to live. For my brothers and sisters who
are dealing with racism, who are dealing with their sexuality, or anyone
dealing with their own personal demons, please use my story as a testament that
life does get better. It might not happen overnight, it took me 22 years to
finally have ultimate happiness. But please, hang in there. Life is so
precious; you owe it to yourself to live it. I know all too well how taking
your own life at times can seem like the only option, but know that it is not.
You were crafted and created out of love, and if you have no one in your life
to tell you this, know that God loves you. I love you. And in time, you will
learn to love yourself.
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