Advice for the Young, Gay, and Southern: It Gets Better

“No government has the right to tell its citizens when or whom to love. The only queer people are those who don't love anybody.” Rita Mae Brown

Regardless of what anyone tells you, high school is not all it’s cracked up to be. You don’t run through the halls screaming at the top of your lungs (sorry, John Mayer), a vast majority of people pretend to like one another simply for peace, and the institutions that have been shoved in our faces practically since birth are lousy. I mean, come on, prom? Really? While there may be fun times sprinkled in with the madness, loneliness, and piles of homework, the idealistic vision that 80s movies and ABC Family television shows have implanted in our brains are simply that: idealized. Those you share your time with may look back on it years later as being the best times of your lives and that everyone loved one another, but the reality is that for the bottom 99% of the food chain, high school is hell.

From the moment I stepped into high school, I was the outcast, the one that everyone seemed to zero in on for the fill of gossip. I may have been the gangly, timid kid in the back of class who barely said a word, but I made good grades and was friendly with the girls in my classes. For some reason, this riled up the other boys and I became the “gay kid”, though other more colorful names have been thrown in my direction. Whether I was walking down the hall, getting my lunch, opening my locker, or any of the other mundane activities of the average American high schooler, I was always seeming to draw enough attention to be verbally harassed. If epithets about my presumed sexuality and pseudo-macho posturing weren’t enough, I had to deal with trash being left in my locker, other locks being locked onto mine, and weird looks from those who seemed to take the most delight in my discomfort. What little peace I did manage to find was in the confines of the classroom, the one place I seemed to belong, but when I heard the bell, I knew that I’d have to navigate the hallways of my high school swiftly and with blinders on. One hint of weakness or acknowledging that I heard the things that were being said and it was over; I was toast.

Having to deal with constant murmurings and rumors took a lot out of me and by the time I was graduating, I was beyond burnt out. For years, I had to deal with fake love notes, confusing sexual come-ons, and the reality that I stuck out more than I wanted to. A part of me always wished I was “normal” and that I could just be “one of the guys”, especially early on in my high school career. The loneliness that I felt during this four years has gone unmatched since, as I was an only child without an active social life and a young gay male in a small country town that is anything but gay friendly. But the more I grew and matured, the more okay I became with myself. It still hurt to have the names screamed at me and the anxiety that came with being in high school is certainly something I’d never like to feel again. However, the closer I got to graduating, the more I realized that it doesn’t matter. High school doesn’t matter. What these people think of you? You’ll more than likely never see 90% of them again for the rest of your life, so to worry what insignificant people have to say about you is just hurting you and your chances for growth.

There was no set way that I became alright with my sexuality, nor do I think there’s any rigid formula to becoming a “functioning gay person”. In my case, it was simply time, life experience, and a different perspective that took me from being one step away from putting a knife to my wrist to being on the verge of graduating from college with my bachelor’s in criminology. If I could give advice to anyone currently struggling with their sexuality, especially in small/southern towns, I would say to never let ‘em see you sweat. Surround yourself with things you love. Keep an open dialogue with at least one person that you trust with such sensitive issues. Focus on your school work, because trust me, most colleges are a lot more open minded than your average high school (and, in my situation, provide the perfect background for becoming okay with who you are). Appreciate those who understand you; in a lot of cases, they’re few and far between. But most importantly, never think that you’re less of a person because of who you love.