Telling My Story: The time I found out I was Gay

I began the inward battle from that point on. Praying that I wasn’t Gay because I knew that it was so wrong. This was around the time my parents found out I was being picked on in school as well. I remember one conversation specifically where my Dad talked to me. He must’ve said something right because he was able to calm me down. My Dad will tell you I have a superpower for only remembering the negative things he says because I can’t tell you the parts of this conversion that went well all I can tell you is how he ended it. At the end of the conversation, he said to me “And Brian if you want people to stop messing with you… then maybe you should stop doing whatever it is that people are picking on you for.” Shock, horror, awe, then pain. I couldn’t believe my father had just openly sided with my bullies, with all the teachers who allowed it to happen, with every sideways look or why do you sound like a girl that I had ever gotten in my life. And he was going to tell me the same thing? How was I to stop? Did he not know I had already been praying the Gay away from day one? Still. In complete denial just for the simple fact that I knew who and what I was being said to be was a shame. I couldn’t be Gay. I refused to be. So, for a while that was how I lived… that was until fifth grade.

So, in the fifth grade I transferred from my original elementary school. By the time I had left I was friends with the biggest and the prettiest kids on the playground. Everyone knew not to mess with me. But going to a new school meant that I had to start all over again and climb a new social latter. Not to mention I was leaving a public school in the suburbs to go to a college prep school for inner city kids. Now grant you this school turned out some amazing students and my academics were never the same after I left. But don’t get me wrong, this school was in the ghetto. Here I found myself amongst new friends and new bullies just about an equal mix of both. I was still quiet and unrecognizable by nature and my beautiful older sister just so happened to inhabit one of the higher grades at this same school, hence the reason for my transfer. We were both in the same school now, so I knew I had a chance. Boy was I wrong.

Going to Johnston (the name has been changed to protect a school I still love so dearly), was different. I was learning at an accelerated rate and being introduced to drama classes and plenty of other things I had never done in school before. But the reason I brought this school up isn’t to praise it. It’s to paint a picture for you. When I went to Johnston prep, I was the owner of a cheap rolling backpack. The backpack was so cheap that sometimes a screw or two would come loose. Well, there came a time where the kids who bullied me there ran out of things to throw at me when the teachers weren’t paying attention. So, do you know what they threw next? The screws. The screws from my very own rolling backpack. Looking back at it now its honestly kind of funny right? Like wow not me being so defenseless that they would patronize me with my own belongings. But these kids are also a part of the reason why the word faggot drives my blood still to this day. They tormented me, they mocked at every chance they had, they reminded me that I was different and that I didn’t fit in there. But there came a time where I noticed one of them more than the others. He was like the ringleader of their shenanigans.

Tristan used to lead them all in unison “Brian Gay” after anything I said out loud and yeah it was true. But why did he have to say it? Why did he have to speak on something even I still wasn’t sure about in front of so many people? Why did he have to take away from the façade I had worked so hard at building. The personality, everybody’s best friend. I was still in the closet still dating girls and everything there was no reason for him to call me out. I didn’t even know yet. But this boy was bad, and he got a kick out making fun of me. Later, I grew up to learn that most of the men who criticized me for being Gay were quietly denying themselves the same truth. Hiding in plain sight, mocking me to draw the attention away from themselves. But at this time, I didn’t know that. I knew that I had a crush on him. But this was supposed to be wrong? How can I like him? This person who weaponizes my every expression? The ringleader of my torment club. I knew then that I was gay because the feelings I felt for him were never an option, it was more than just a crush. I had to come to terms with the fact that it had to be possible that I liked men because I had developed feelings for my least favorite one of them all. And that’s when I realized that I was Gay. They had been right all along. But were they? I spent this moment on in my life paving my own path, creating my own labels if I was to have any. Even still in my own mind I hid behind the premise that maybe I was bisexual. But that’s story goes on and on and I’ll surely have to make it another blog post.