Born This Way (19 page)

My teen years were full of angst and could be perfectly narrated by Christina Ricci. I was a little lonesome, with no gay peers. Then high school came, and
I began to embrace my homosexuality.
I would no longer awkwardly dodge the “Are you gay?” question and I began to taste my freedom.

Today my favorite color is blue, my favorite animal is a lion (although some would argue it's a bear), and my favorite game is Scrabble. And my favorite holiday is still Valentine's Day.

I remember having a crush on a classmate named Dustin, and I remember how hard I cried when he moved away just before the start of first grade. I also remember my love of the hand-on-hip pose, as is evident in this photo. If anything,
looking back on pictures of me like this makes me remember how unselfconscious I was.

Once I hit fifth grade, everything changed. That's when the bullying started, and the name-calling, and getting my butt kicked after school: all those terrible things that so many of us have to deal with as gay kids. My parents were always supportive of me, but one memory in particular sticks out as the first moment that my mother truly offered her love and support. One night when I was about seven years old, we were watching
Melrose Place
together. There was a gay character on the show (a doctor portrayed by Doug Savant), and in one episode he kisses another man, or it's implied that they've had sex or something. I remember when the episode ended and the credits were rolling, my mom turned to me and said,
“Reese, that character is gay. And that's okay.”

This picture sparks many awkward, depressing memories of never fitting in with my perfect, happy friends or my strict Mormon family.
I had just convinced my mother to let me cut my long hair.
It traumatized me. Since then, I've vowed to make myself look as feminine as possible.

The first time I remember having a real girl crush was at age thirteen.
I'd doodled on a piece of paper about loving a girl, and my sister told my mom. When confronted, I cried, “Nooo! I don't love her like
that
, just as a friend!” But that was when I realized I was different, and there was something about me I was supposed to be ashamed of.
I soon moved myself back into the closet and locked the door from the inside.

Although being gay and Mormon is hard,
when I start to feel sad I hear a voice inside my head saying, “God doesn't make mistakes.”
And I feel content. I've been blessed with an amazing family that loves me and supports me, no matter what.

I had a bumpy childhood, raised by a single mother suffering from multiple personality disorder.
My best friend knew I was in love with him, and he was okay with that,
as long as I didn't “try anything funny.” I bounced around foster homes and group homes until I was fifteen. That was when I came out, and it was the best decision I have ever made. After I came out everyone was so kind and loving toward me.

Today I'm a professional ballet dancer, and I've been partnered with my husband and best friend for seven years. I'm currently attending grad school and making a documentary that follows a group of LGBTQ kids in their early teens, to give a voice to the younger generation who are experiencing these things.
I love being gay,
and I wouldn't want to be any other way. I hope my film helps kids come to that place of acceptance in life a lot sooner than I did.
Someday, being young and gay will be as taboo as being young and short or having freckles.
And I want to make that day come very soon.

I picked the fabric for this vest myself. And
I felt fabulous in rainbow houndstooth,
as I'm sure any other eight-year-old at his father's fortieth birthday party would have felt—right?

My dad dreaded picking me up from preschool because
I'd always be wearing some frilly outfit from the playtime box.
I didn't realize I was gay until much later, mostly because I didn't know being gay was possible! I grew up in a sheltered Christian home, and everyone just thought I was “special.”

Coming out was hard for me.
I was twenty-one, I had just met the love of my life, and I knew I couldn't keep him to myself.
It was awful for a few months because my family was shocked beyond belief. Of course, nobody else was. My family and I have been able to slip into a “don't ask, don't tell” kind of understanding. My partner, Paul, and I have been together for three years now. Mathieu, my best friend since birth (who's pictured with me), is soon getting married and I'll be his best man.
Someday I hope that he can be the best man at my wedding, too.
As the world becomes more accepting, that just might be possible.