What does it mean to be LGBTQ? I’ve had this conversation more in the past few weeks than I have had in my whole life.
I, of course, can only speak from my own experience and perspective. Although some white, cisgender men of a certain age might like to speak for others, or tell others what to do with their bodies, I will stick to my experience and perspective. I am sure to some degree though, there is a bit of intersectionality between the experiences within the letters.
There are several reasons this topic has come up. Whether it’s Florida’s HB 1557, commonly referred to as the “Don’t Say Gay or Trans” bill, conversations with the family about the sexual orientation or gender identity of younger relatives or the guy at the gym who simply wants to know if a guy “who likes to have his butt played with during sex” is gay; it begs the question, what does it mean to be gay?
Like many of our readers, I grew up in a time when people didn’t say gay – at least not in an affirming way. Teachers didn’t teach us about the gay heroes of history. We didn’t go home and watch TV with gay role models or see ourselves portrayed in a movie in a positive light. We weren’t taught to be gay, yet here we are, as gay as a Judy Garland/Barbara Streisand duet.
I knew I was gay even though I wasn’t told what it was. I knew I was gay because I felt it. Something attracted me to boys even as young as kindergarten. It wasn’t sinister or sexual, I just wanted to be around a certain boy in class. By the time I was eight and nine I had full on crushes.
There was a girl I dated, I believe it was the fourth grade, and by dated I mean we hung out at the baseball fields while our brothers played on the same team. I was definitely more interested in hanging out with her brother.
I wanted to be close to him, to sit next to him on the car rides home. I vividly remember one car ride home where I got to sit next to him and our knees accidentally touched. My heart skipped a beat. For one second, I was in heaven.
Being gay isn’t about sex. It’s about having an emotional, romantic attraction to someone of the same gender.
That’s what I felt that day. I just wanted to hold his hand and hang out with him at the baseball fields.
Imagine, in that Texas baseball town in 1984, at that young age, if I could have talked to someone about what I was feeling. If I could have told my parents or favorite teacher. Imagine if after that car ride home I could go home and see what I was feeling on the big screen, like with “Love, Simon,” or on TV with shows like “Heartstopper.” It would have been life changing and beautiful.
Youth today don’t have to imagine. It’s there for them, we just have to let them talk to us, let them watch the shows and let them see that what they are feeling is normal and amazing.
I could not understand why it was okay for nine-year-old me to pretend to date a girl at the baseball field but it was evil to actually like her brother.
Why is it okay and cute for elementary school kids to write Valentine’s Day cards for the opposite gender, but if they write a card to someone of the same gender then they are too young to make such a lifelong decision?
First grade Timmy giving a Valentine to Johnny isn’t a marriage proposal with the intent to consummate the relationship any more than it is for Scottie giving a card to Suzy.
Stop making it about sex. Your constant talk of kids and sex is gross and you should talk to someone about it.
What many people outside the LGBTQ community seem to not know is that kids as young as kindergarten through third grade probably already know they are gay. Not saying it won’t stop it, it will just create a lot of unnecessary heartache.
In this issue we say gay a lot, gay days to be specific. We give you the skinny on what your favorite organizations are doing for the return of Central Florida’s biggest gay weekend.
We strive to bring you a variety of stories, your stories. I hope you enjoy this latest issue.
