A Taboo Topic (?): LGBT Kids

Earlier this week, I was on a plane back from Ohio when I noticed a young girl across the aisle from me. The girl, who must have been no older than 12, caught my attention because, by her wardrobe and demeanor, she was the doppleganger of my Midwestern youth. Skater sneakers – check. Slightly baggy flares – check. Sports bag as purse – check. Too-cool-for-school slouch and unkempt hair that matches that message – check. I felt bad for staring since she was traveling alone and probably a little on-edge already, but it was so surreal to look at what was practically a mirror image of a young me that I couldn’t help but intermittently look over to see what she was up to. Part of me wanted to offer to be her mentor – “Hey,” I wanted to say, “I’m pretty sure you’re me twelve years ago. Here’s my email – contact me if you ever need advice about life.” However, that would have been - by all cultural standards – creepy; so, I kept to myself and reflected on my own youth as I wondered who she was so frequently texting, or trying to text, throughout the entire flight.

As I flipped back and forth between distant memories of myself and the reality of the look-alike sitting near me, I realized another caveat to our similarities: the girl sitting across from me was almost certainly gay. Other people looking at her might argue that she’s simply a tomboy or a fashionably apathetic or homely young girl; however, this girl was as gay as I was when I was twelve, and I wondered whether or not she knew, or had contemplated, it. I surely hadn't when I was twelve; according to society, and, thus, me, I was a tomboy. I acted the way I did and had the demeanor that I had simply because I liked to play sports. To me, that made perfect sense, so I never had to question my sexuality. I was a girl, and I liked boys.

Today, my one distinct and solitary memory of being young and gay is from fifth grade when I looked at my school’s band director and thought, “God, if I was a boy, I’d want to marry a woman just like that”; however, I quickly dismissed that thought as irrational and psychologically inappropriate. In fact, throughout the rest of middle school and most of high school, I never even contemplated the idea that I might be gay; it quite literally wasn’t an option. I didn’t have exposure to any real life gays, never mind real life lesbians. Plus, I aspired so much for a future in politics that I learned a lesson from the Clinton era and refused to do anything that might one-day be considered, according to a naïve teen, “dirt” – I never smoked, drank, nor got anything less than an A on a report card. I’m pretty sure that somewhere in my subconscious I also came to the firm conclusion that being gay was high-selling dirt.

Given my straight and narrow take on life, I bumbled through my teen years thinking the women I would intermittently obsess over, whether they were celebrities, teachers, or soccer coaches, were women that I just really wanted to be like. I wanted to sing like Alanis Morissette. I wanted hair like Natalie Imbruglia. I wanted to be rich like my sixth grade teacher. Furthermore, not only did I completely ignore my draw to these women and their beautiful jaw lines, but I also had crushes on boys. Sure, they were always the All-American boys that all the girls had crushes on, but the important thing was that I liked them, too. And this is essentially what my youth boiled down to: seemingly inexplicable obsessions with women in my life, and generic crushes on boys with nice tans and finely gelled crew cuts.

As many gays do, now that I’m grown up and gay, I feel somewhat cheated out of my teen years. I have irrational thoughts that maybe I wouldn’t be so awkward now if I had been able to appropriately release all those awkward energies during my teen years. Moreover, part of me is simply annoyed at the adults in my life – didn’t they realize I was gay? I was young and didn’t know my ass from my elbow about anything sexual, but surely some of the adults in my life must have realized that my boy crushes were feigned and strained, right? These questions inevitably bring up a whole slew of other questions: Why is it so taboo to assume that someone is gay (“I don’t want to offend you, but are you gay?”)? Why do we – adults – continuously treat children who we know are gay like they are straight? The last question is one that has bothered me for a long time and that I honestly have no idea how to answer: How can we reach out to young gays and help them come to terms their sexuality pre-freshman year of college when so many adults turn a blind eye to their sexualities?

As much as I hate it, I know that I am one of those adults who doesn’t really do anything to help. Many of us are. Most of us have met kids and thought, “I wonder if his/her parents are thinking what I'm thinking.” Few of us, however, have looked over at the parents and asked, “So, are you making any special accommodations for your child’s very likely homosexuality?” God forbid. That would make us rude, presumptuous, and probably a sexual predator. However, part of me wishes someone had seen me when I was young and given my parents a heads up that there was a good chance that I wasn't just a tomboy. My life wouldn’t have been drastically different, but if my parents had considered the possiblity, maybe they could have exposed me to more gay stuff. Maybe if I had known that some real – and normal - people really are gay, then I wouldn’t have had to think it was so irrational and inappropriate to dream of marrying my school’s band director.

One of my hopes today is that, as a society, we find an answer to the question of how we can appropriately reach out to young gays. In a majority straight world, where gay kids aren’t born to parents with the same minority status, I hope that our culture can one-day act mature enough to send the message to kids that gay is, in fact, a normal state of being. However, part of me is really pessimistic about this. Why do commercials and other mainstream advertisements still only show straight couples? Why are movies with gay protagonists generally considered straight-to-indie-theater flicks? Why do we need separate TV channels to air programs that revolve around gay characters?

Basically, I think that grown-up gays have a lot of responsibility to make this a more gay-friendly country for future gay generations. Gay kids don’t get to share the burden of their sexual orientation with likewise families. Nor do they get to go to enclaves, whether they be churches or other local hang-outs, where they are free to be proud of who they are. Grown-up gays, however, have done it; whether your parents continuously offered support, lived in denial, or kicked you out of the house, if you’re reading this you made it through. Furthermore, most of us still know what it’s like to feel isolated and uncomfortable at times; so, instead of basking in the glory of making it out of middle and high school, why aren’t we more proactive about reaching out to the upcoming generations in need of our support? I’m challenging myself to become more involved in making this a more welcoming and safer country for young gays, and I’m urging others to do the same.

This post was inspired by the opening of the Wanda Alston House, the new center for homeless LGBT youth, which Tyrone mentioned in his earlier post. The opening happens tonight from 4:30pm-8:30pm at 804 46th ST, NE.