I'm gay. By that I mean I am a Lesbian, and if you are still confused, yes I dig girls. Scary to admit huh?; especially considering the fact that I am only sixteen years old, and a prodigy of one of the most conservative families in all of Denver. But I don’t understand the purpose of hiding the truth. Nor do I understand the purpose of pretending to be someone I am not, just to please others. After all my life is all about me now isn’t it? Why yes, yes it is.
Friends are easy; it’s a simple matter of telling them either when they are only pretending to listen to you, or when they are listening to you so intently that they don’t really process what you are saying. Yep, it’s all about your timing when you choose to come out to your best friends.
For instance, when I came out to my friend Joe; he was absorbed in his old school Nintendo DS Pokémon game, while I was watching Oprah, but more importantly, I was watching the commercials during Oprah. A shampoo commercial came on, you know, the ones with the gorgeous brunet, standing half naked, her back turned towards the camera as water and soap suds run down her back? Yum was this actress gorgeous. So obviously I felt the need to comment on her beauty, “She’s hot.” I said randomly, “Oh, hah, b-t-dub, since you’re sort of a member of the family now, I’m gay.” I realized what I had actually admitted to him a millisecond after I had said it. There was that awkward moment, where I eyed him suspiciously from the corner of my eye waiting for his reaction. But, apparently Pikachu was more important to Joe then my sexual orientation, because after a slight grunt and a flick of the eyes towards the television, all he had to say was, “I agree.” Then Oprah returned, and the difficult part was over. Simple.
Being an openly flamboyant teenage lesbian is quite an exhilarating high school experience. If given the choice, I would never have been in the closet for any amount of time. There is just too much fun in hitting on random straight girls, and kissing the entire color guard in one night. The only problem arises when your girlfriend wants to come home and meet your parents.
At home, I am so deep in my closet that I have tea with Mr. Tumnus daily. The perspective of telling my parents in any appropriate fashion that I love girls was a task comparable to defeating the White Witch with nothing but a twig. My arrogant nature of being gay evaporates as I step through the garage door, as the chilling religious air rapes my soul. Christianity preaches the most hateful words I have ever heard. I am forced to listen to the complaints of my family on how disgusting it is to even think about two girls kissing. When the only thing I can think of is how beautiful and pure their love is.
The worst by far however, is to hear my Father’s rant about how it is a personal choice to be a homosexual, and how it is the byproduct of a low self-esteem. (The first time I had heard this tirade was on the same day that my first girlfriend and I had parted ways. I know, what a great day huh? Before I had even entered the household, I felt unworthy and disgusted with myself for hurting her. So much so, that my first breathe of that hateful atmosphere suffocated me.) He claims that the only reason why there are gay people in this world is because they are so uncomfortable with themselves that they cannot go and talk to a member of the opposite sex. That they are so lonely and desperate, that they crave attention from others with the same problem. My only response to that is this: what the fuck? To me, in order to be openly gay, and in an openly gay relationship, that takes more courage and more self confidence than any of the hetero couples I see. A man and a woman can be seen walking down the street holding hands, and no one would give them a second thought. However, if a man and a man were seen hand in hand, eyes would be following them every step of the way. And that is just the kindest thing that could happen to them. Everyday an open homosexual lives they take a risk; a risk to be stared at, or talked about, insulted, or even killed. To me, that takes a greater self esteem than any straight person has.
All in all, I take pride in my sexuality. I am not ashamed of it in the slightest, nor will I ever be. I take this risk, and I embrace it. This wasn’t my choice, but if I had to choose whether to be straight or a lesbian, I think I would choose that latter. But mull over this, if it was my choice to be a lesbian, why would I purposefully try to get the people I love to hate me even more?