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Monday, November 1, 2010
It Gets Better. It's a campaign that's swept the world, mainly through social media. There have been a rash of gay suicides recently (and certainly many more probably unreported over the years) - teens who can't picture what their lives might be like as openly gay adults. The "It Gets Better" campaign aims to do just that - celebrities and every day folk showing teens that people can be happy, people can have hope and everyone deserves to be accepted for who they are. After seeing rugby star Ben Cohen's video contribution (above) this weekend, I was seriously moved to contribute something. Will it help? I can't judge that, but I can certainly hope so...
Being a teen isn't easy for anyone. Being a gay teen, coming to terms with your feelings, sexuality and emotions isn't easy either. And being a gay teen dealing with all of this and growing up Mormon is a bit of a nightmare. Hallowe'en this weekend reminded me of similar weekends from my youth. My local Mormon church (which my family - mom, dad, four brothers and sisters attended regularly) would hold a little event called Spook Alley. On the surface, it was ingenious. you would go through the corridor of rooms, each one filled with some nasty ghost or ghoul. Nothing too insidious about that, you might think. One room would inevitably be "outer darkness" where people who had committed unforgiveable sins might end up. A man loving another man was considered one of those sins and walking into the room with my Mormon upbringing made me feel that everything about me, everything about what I felt was wrong. I kept quiet. However, it was apparently obvious to some that I was gay. Whispering and namecalling (surely the Lord's work?!) started. One Sunday School teacher very pointedly explained to me that homosexuality was a sin and pierced my palm with a needle to show me just a tiny fraction of the pain and torment gays would suffer if they didn't renounce their shameful ways. It was terrifying.
School wasn't much better. Trying to hide who I was/how I felt seemed to bring it to the surface and make it even more obvious. Being HomoPaul is senior school is no delight and the taunts, mocking and name calling seemed relentless. Even teachers would ask why I always hung out with girls (apparently this makes you gay? Inexplicable!) and why I wasn't normal and out playing football with the boys. This reinforced my internal battle with myself that I was wrong, that I must conform, that I must fundamentally change who I was. For teens nowadays going through this battle, I empathise. it's painful and soul destroying. Find comfort in those friends who accept you for who you are - either in your social network or your online community. I had a small but fiercely loyal group of friends who never questioned my sexuality and always accepted me for who I was/am. It wasn't a pleasant time but I think I was lucky because it wasn't entirely awful thanks to these people.
Getting cancer felt like a punishment for who I was. I was young, I had kept my desires secret but certainly acted upon them. God was seeking retribution. Add that guilt and fear to the terror you feel at having a potentially life threatening illness, and I felt I would collapse under the sheer weight of it all. This wasn't helping my 2 year recovery process. Something had to give. Change or accept who I was or die. it sounds dramatic but it came down to that simple choice. Illness often gives you a new lease on life and I was going to take it. This is just one reason why I am so so sad inside that some teens felt they had no choice, no support, no hope but to choose death. It truly breaks my heart and I'm so glad I had some network of support that spurred me on, that somehow made me believe it gets better...
Telling people I was gay wasn't as dramatic as I imagined. My family were far more accepting than the Mormon faith probably allows them to be. My friends already knew. once it was out in the open, it seemed to take the wind out of peoples sails and the taunts and name calling died down. It was still difficult though - I had to disassociate myself from the faith I'd been raised in. I lost some friends. But I felt better and stronger within myself. I became passionate about underrepresented groups receiving equal opportunities in life and this shaped my future career. I'm now a director in a leading national disability advice charity. I've been with my partner for over 10 years and civilly partnered for four years of those. There have been highs and lows, but I'm strangely proud of my life - it's not grand or famous or heroic or filled with celebrity, but it is a happy life filled with someone I love, a job I adore and friends who have over the years become as much of a family to me as my own. In short, I think my ordinary life is extraordinary. Keep hoping, keep strong - whatever you achieve in your life, it will be brilliant for you and you can pass on your experience to others struggling. I wish you well.
Being a teen isn't easy for anyone. Being a gay teen, coming to terms with your feelings, sexuality and emotions isn't easy either. And being a gay teen dealing with all of this and growing up Mormon is a bit of a nightmare. Hallowe'en this weekend reminded me of similar weekends from my youth. My local Mormon church (which my family - mom, dad, four brothers and sisters attended regularly) would hold a little event called Spook Alley. On the surface, it was ingenious. you would go through the corridor of rooms, each one filled with some nasty ghost or ghoul. Nothing too insidious about that, you might think. One room would inevitably be "outer darkness" where people who had committed unforgiveable sins might end up. A man loving another man was considered one of those sins and walking into the room with my Mormon upbringing made me feel that everything about me, everything about what I felt was wrong. I kept quiet. However, it was apparently obvious to some that I was gay. Whispering and namecalling (surely the Lord's work?!) started. One Sunday School teacher very pointedly explained to me that homosexuality was a sin and pierced my palm with a needle to show me just a tiny fraction of the pain and torment gays would suffer if they didn't renounce their shameful ways. It was terrifying.
School wasn't much better. Trying to hide who I was/how I felt seemed to bring it to the surface and make it even more obvious. Being HomoPaul is senior school is no delight and the taunts, mocking and name calling seemed relentless. Even teachers would ask why I always hung out with girls (apparently this makes you gay? Inexplicable!) and why I wasn't normal and out playing football with the boys. This reinforced my internal battle with myself that I was wrong, that I must conform, that I must fundamentally change who I was. For teens nowadays going through this battle, I empathise. it's painful and soul destroying. Find comfort in those friends who accept you for who you are - either in your social network or your online community. I had a small but fiercely loyal group of friends who never questioned my sexuality and always accepted me for who I was/am. It wasn't a pleasant time but I think I was lucky because it wasn't entirely awful thanks to these people.
Getting cancer felt like a punishment for who I was. I was young, I had kept my desires secret but certainly acted upon them. God was seeking retribution. Add that guilt and fear to the terror you feel at having a potentially life threatening illness, and I felt I would collapse under the sheer weight of it all. This wasn't helping my 2 year recovery process. Something had to give. Change or accept who I was or die. it sounds dramatic but it came down to that simple choice. Illness often gives you a new lease on life and I was going to take it. This is just one reason why I am so so sad inside that some teens felt they had no choice, no support, no hope but to choose death. It truly breaks my heart and I'm so glad I had some network of support that spurred me on, that somehow made me believe it gets better...
Telling people I was gay wasn't as dramatic as I imagined. My family were far more accepting than the Mormon faith probably allows them to be. My friends already knew. once it was out in the open, it seemed to take the wind out of peoples sails and the taunts and name calling died down. It was still difficult though - I had to disassociate myself from the faith I'd been raised in. I lost some friends. But I felt better and stronger within myself. I became passionate about underrepresented groups receiving equal opportunities in life and this shaped my future career. I'm now a director in a leading national disability advice charity. I've been with my partner for over 10 years and civilly partnered for four years of those. There have been highs and lows, but I'm strangely proud of my life - it's not grand or famous or heroic or filled with celebrity, but it is a happy life filled with someone I love, a job I adore and friends who have over the years become as much of a family to me as my own. In short, I think my ordinary life is extraordinary. Keep hoping, keep strong - whatever you achieve in your life, it will be brilliant for you and you can pass on your experience to others struggling. I wish you well.
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