I was thirteen years old. I was becoming aware of my sexuality slowly before, but it started to pick up as middle school progressed. I started to look at pictures of shirtless men—I even had a little collection of pictures cut from magazines. I also wrote little erotic stories about experiences with other men. I had dreams about men.
I didn’t know it was considered wrong by anyone at the time…until my stepmom found a story I had written. I don’t remember what it was about, but it was fairly explicit. I got home from school one day, and my parents called me down to their bedroom. This was what happened if ever any of us children were in trouble. I wondered what I had done, but it seemed like something new every week. I walked timidly into their room, not knowing what to expect. There, sitting on their dresser was the story I had left on my night stand. My stepmom (who later turned out to be crazy) looked at me with utter disdain; my dad looked ashamed and quiet like he did when he was especially angry about something. They asked me about the story, which included some explicit sexual acts. I didn’t know what to say since I was utterly shocked that there was a problem with what I had written. I just had to deny having such feelings or desires and say that it was something that I maybe wanted to try but wouldn’t ever go through with it.
I think this experience resulted in sexual trauma and caused me to shove my sexuality so deep inside that I denied it until very recently. Living with right-wing conservatives parents put me so deep in the closet that it caused much trauma to pull it out nearly ten years later. Teens need a healthy outlet, and living in a small town in Oregon did not help that. My community was very antigay, and I was always teased for being a “fag” or gay. I didn’t know what that was; I just knew that I liked boys. While I was closeted, I developed homophobic attitudes based on my parents’ attitudes. The very idea of being gay scared me to the point of developing a hatred of other gays. But gay guys at school fascinated me. It took a long time to accept who I was. I had to come to terms with my Christian beliefs, and it took a few years to come out to myself, then to select others, and then to everyone.
Coming out after repressing one’s homo/bisexuality is a long process. Experiencing trauma as a young teen, whether from peers or important adults, causes a lot of pain attached to whatever one was teased about or punished for. Getting over that is key to any person why wants to come out as LGBTQ. More and more youth are getting brave enough to come out to their loved ones, sometimes to great pain. But in the end, coming out is much healthier than repressing it for your whole life. From one previously closeted homo: don’t put it off; I’m the happiest I’ve been since my younger years.
