Post by n!ck on Dec 9, 2008 2:24:16 GMT
I was straightening up the humor section at Barnes and Noble last week when a sky-blue book caught my eye – Stuff White People Like by Christian Lander. Curious, I picked up the book and flipped it open. “#88 Having Gay Friends,” the page clarified for me. I couldn’t help but smile as I put the book back on the shelf and continued straightening. The thought of that page consumed me for the rest of the evening. Was I only a part of my friends’ “all-star diversity roster”? Sure, being gay in North Dakota doesn’t seem like an ideal situation to grow up in, but I worked hard to challenge myself to rise above the incorrect stereotypes people would have of me.
I knew from a young age that I was gay, and from that moment of realization I began my trail of cover-ups. I joined basketball, track, and football to prove that I wasn’t a sissy; I joined boy scouts to learn what real mean do. I cut up any stray pictures of Winnie-the-Pooh I had in my bedroom and pretended that I didn’t know the words to any Spice Girls’ songs. I fretted the day when I would come home and my parents would be sitting at the kitchen table wanting to “talk”.
By the time I was in high school, the cover-ups weren’t at the top of my list any more. I began getting involved in activities because I enjoyed them, not because I yearned for the respect of my peers. Unexpectedly, many people began to value me because I came off as a more sincere person when I was doing what came naturally to me: speech, theater, and music.
Finally, at the beginning of my junior year, I felt that it would be all right if I told people that I was gay. I didn’t see this as a monumental change in my life, which in retrospect was the best way to approach it. I told my parents on a Monday at midnight. I entered into their bedroom and told them I needed to talk to them about something.
“You got your girlfriend pregnant, didn’t you?” my dad asked. Pure irony.
The conversation that night lasted until four in the morning.
Slowly, I began telling my close friends. A few people were surprised, but no one really cared that much or made a big deal out of it. My friend Hannah told me once, “It’s not a big deal because you don’t make it one. You’re still you – you didn’t become a stereotype; you didn’t change at all really. You just explained who you are. I think it’s cool that you trust us enough to do that.”
Not everyone felt the same way, though. My best friend at the time, Alex, didn’t give a second thought to it. Unfortunately, his parents did.
I was raised Catholic, but I never thought that my sexuality conflicted with anything I learned in church. The cardinal principals of Catholicism are love God, love your neighbor, and love yourself. I didn’t think I was breaking any rules, but others disagreed.
One night, Alex and a few others were at my house playing board games when Alex got a disgruntling phone call from his parents. He seemed very preoccupied as he told us that his parents were coming to pick him up – three hours before curfew.
The next three weeks of our friendship were incredibly rocky. Alex wouldn’t return any phone calls and avoided me at all costs during school. Finally, one of our friends told me that his parents didn’t want him associating with someone like me. His parents threatened to pull him off the speech team in order to put an end to our contact.
“People will be intolerant.” my mom explained.
“This is the price of telling people. Not everyone is going to accept you,” my dad agreed.
This was not the type of consolation I was expecting from my parents. But if there is one thing I am grateful for in my parents, it is that they are always honest, even if it sometimes means telling my four siblings and myself what we don’t want to hear.
As expected, I gradually grew to be all right with how things played out with Alex and his family. My older brother, Matt, and sister, Rachel, were more than accepting, and it really didn’t change anything in our family. In fact, they’ll regularly crack jokes about things like me giving up my dreams of being a doctor so that I can pursue a career in interior decorating, or something else just to razz me up so I know that it really doesn’t matter to them.
I don’t think that I’m anyone’s #88. But just to be on the safe side, that night I sent text messages to some of my closest friends, asking if they were friends with me because I’m gay.
“WHAT?!” Ethan replied.
“Yes, Nick. I try to surround myself with minorities. I make sure I have a gay friend, an African-American friend, and an Asian one,” Brittany sarcastically responded.
“No,” was Hannah’s simple answer. Then, shortly after, she supplemented it with, “That’s just a bonus.”
This is the essay as of right now. Please give me any criticism you have. I don't know about the ending yet. Is it strong enough?
I knew from a young age that I was gay, and from that moment of realization I began my trail of cover-ups. I joined basketball, track, and football to prove that I wasn’t a sissy; I joined boy scouts to learn what real mean do. I cut up any stray pictures of Winnie-the-Pooh I had in my bedroom and pretended that I didn’t know the words to any Spice Girls’ songs. I fretted the day when I would come home and my parents would be sitting at the kitchen table wanting to “talk”.
By the time I was in high school, the cover-ups weren’t at the top of my list any more. I began getting involved in activities because I enjoyed them, not because I yearned for the respect of my peers. Unexpectedly, many people began to value me because I came off as a more sincere person when I was doing what came naturally to me: speech, theater, and music.
Finally, at the beginning of my junior year, I felt that it would be all right if I told people that I was gay. I didn’t see this as a monumental change in my life, which in retrospect was the best way to approach it. I told my parents on a Monday at midnight. I entered into their bedroom and told them I needed to talk to them about something.
“You got your girlfriend pregnant, didn’t you?” my dad asked. Pure irony.
The conversation that night lasted until four in the morning.
Slowly, I began telling my close friends. A few people were surprised, but no one really cared that much or made a big deal out of it. My friend Hannah told me once, “It’s not a big deal because you don’t make it one. You’re still you – you didn’t become a stereotype; you didn’t change at all really. You just explained who you are. I think it’s cool that you trust us enough to do that.”
Not everyone felt the same way, though. My best friend at the time, Alex, didn’t give a second thought to it. Unfortunately, his parents did.
I was raised Catholic, but I never thought that my sexuality conflicted with anything I learned in church. The cardinal principals of Catholicism are love God, love your neighbor, and love yourself. I didn’t think I was breaking any rules, but others disagreed.
One night, Alex and a few others were at my house playing board games when Alex got a disgruntling phone call from his parents. He seemed very preoccupied as he told us that his parents were coming to pick him up – three hours before curfew.
The next three weeks of our friendship were incredibly rocky. Alex wouldn’t return any phone calls and avoided me at all costs during school. Finally, one of our friends told me that his parents didn’t want him associating with someone like me. His parents threatened to pull him off the speech team in order to put an end to our contact.
“People will be intolerant.” my mom explained.
“This is the price of telling people. Not everyone is going to accept you,” my dad agreed.
This was not the type of consolation I was expecting from my parents. But if there is one thing I am grateful for in my parents, it is that they are always honest, even if it sometimes means telling my four siblings and myself what we don’t want to hear.
As expected, I gradually grew to be all right with how things played out with Alex and his family. My older brother, Matt, and sister, Rachel, were more than accepting, and it really didn’t change anything in our family. In fact, they’ll regularly crack jokes about things like me giving up my dreams of being a doctor so that I can pursue a career in interior decorating, or something else just to razz me up so I know that it really doesn’t matter to them.
I don’t think that I’m anyone’s #88. But just to be on the safe side, that night I sent text messages to some of my closest friends, asking if they were friends with me because I’m gay.
“WHAT?!” Ethan replied.
“Yes, Nick. I try to surround myself with minorities. I make sure I have a gay friend, an African-American friend, and an Asian one,” Brittany sarcastically responded.
“No,” was Hannah’s simple answer. Then, shortly after, she supplemented it with, “That’s just a bonus.”
This is the essay as of right now. Please give me any criticism you have. I don't know about the ending yet. Is it strong enough?