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Texas A&M University 2008

Introduction- Tara, Britney, Laura

Going In by Beth Newell - Melinda
Beyond Closed Doors - Josiah
Inevitability by Travis Cook - Michael
Coming Out for the Bisexual - Laura
Less Michael
Another Coming Out Story - Krista
Whips, Leather, and ChainsOh MyI Love It. Dont You, Mom? by Matt
Davis - Dustin Grabsch
Pre-Op - Katy
I can look at both - Ashley
Remember Chris God hates Fags - Chris
Southern Baptist Boi by Kylan Coats- Lowell Kane
Coming to Terms by Eli - Melissa
One Half Gay Vanessa and Carissa

And transgender people
There are tons of things we dont know about them
But just to start off here are some things we DO know about glbt people.
Chorus 1
It is important to remember that the so-called gay community or gay market is not
monolithic it is more of a confederation of individuals with identities as diverse as the
general population.
Chorus 2
Gay mens buying habits have little to do with gay womens. Transgender and bisexual
people may or may not identify as gay.
Chorus 3
Gay men may live in Chelsea, Fort Lauderdale or West Hollywood, they may be nomadic
They might own a home in the suburbs with a partner and child, they may be in a
retirement home or could be struggling in the ghetto.
Lesbians may own a vegetarian restaurant in Northampton or they may run a major media
They might own a home in the suburbs with a partner and child, or they could be working
at a discount store.
Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people are Hispanic, African-American, Asian,

Caucasian, Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Mormon.
War veterans, retired, teenagers, Republican, Democrat, rural, suburban, and many, many
other layers of identities.
Like everyone else, they face issues of race, class, ethnicity, nationality, age, religion,
health and wealth.
They mirror the general population.
Then theres the questions that do very often get asked, often the result of the myths and
stereotypes associated with being different:
Theres the age old questions of nature vs nuture
How did you know?
When did you know?
Are you sure?
Do your parents know?
What did they say?
Are you sure?
Since when?
Do you even know how to be gay?

Are you sure?
One important thing to remember about the glbt community isWe are everywhere!
You may not know it but the person sitting next to yougay!
GLBT people are involved in all kinds of professions and trades
There are quite a few celebrities and famous figures who are gay, lesbian, bisexual, or
transgender. Just to name a few, theres:
Roman Emperor Hadrian
N Sync Member Lance Bass
Author Truman Capote
Comedienne Margaret Cho
Actor James Dean
Mary Cheney-Daughter of Vice President Dick Cheney
Singer/Songwriter Melissa Etheridge
Actress Alexis Arquette
NASCAR racer Terri O' Connell
Singer Tracy Chapman
Actress Amanda Bearse - Marcy from Married with Children
Dancer Josephine Baker
Musician Janis Joplin
Artist Frida Kahlo
Tennis player Billie Jean King
Master Leonardo da Vinci
Football player Dave Kopay
Singer Johnny Mathis

Actor Ian McKellen Magneto in X Men and Gandalf in Lord of the Rings
Singer/Songwriter Freddie Mercury from QUEEN
Artist Michaelangelo
Actor Robert Reed from The Brady Bunch
Rosie ODonnell and wife Kelli Carpenter
First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt
Actresses Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi
Ancient Greek poet Sappho
REM Singer Michael Stipe
Actor Sir Laurence Olivier
Writer Oscar Wilde
The Real Worlds Pedro Zamora
Singer/Songwriter PINK
Author Gertrude Stein
WNBA Star Sheryl Swoops
Musician Elton John
Star Trek Actor George Takei
Actress Katharine Hepburn
Filmmaker Pedro Almodvar
Actress Drew Barrymore
Point is gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgender people are all around you.
They are daughters and sons
Mothers and fathers
Brothers and sisters

Cousins and Grandparents

Uncles, aunts, foster parents, in-laws
Adoptive parents, co-workers, friends, and AGGIES.

Going In by Beth Newell

- Melinda
We always talk about coming out, but we never talk about going in.
Coming out is this lifelong process accomplished in huge events and tiny
moments. So is going in, only it usually starts earlier.
Like when youre playing house in preschool and all the girls say you have
to play the dad, then they giggle. You dont see anything wrong with being the
husband. You kind of like the idea of being married to Suzy Cooper. And having
two kids and a dog named Lucy. But when you go to kiss Suzy like the boys
always do, youre told you cant play house anymore, so you have to go sit in the
library corner and pretend to read to hide your tears behind a book.
And then your aunt gives you a Ken doll, and you dont quite know what to
do with him, but you know that the aunt think its funny that you have 27 Barbies
and no Ken. So Ken goes to live on the roof of the dream house and only comes
down to mow the lawn. No, he does not need to fix the plumbing on the hot tub,
thats what Buzz Cut Barbie is for. Eventually you ask for another Ken doll from
your aunt because Ken 1 seems really lonely all by himself up there on the roof,
especially after Buzz Cut stole his pants because they were more comfortable
and the button fly was cool.
Then you get sent to summer camp, because youre reading too much
and need some sun. As you sit in cabin number 4 reading your book, the girls
ask you who your favorite counselor is, and you answer. Debbie of course, the
one who drives the big truck. The girls dont talk to you much the rest of the

week, because you were supposed to say Dean or Mike or Erik from the boys
camp across the lake. Thats when you decide to stop wearing your hat
backwards like Debbie.
Suddenly you find yourself in junior high holding a copy of a glossy tween
magazine, long before they were called tweens. You see a poster of Hilary
Swank from the new Karate Kid movie, but then you tape it to your wall your
mother asks why you liked that picture, in a way only mothers can, so you go
through the magazine to find the guy with the biggest picture, and decide he
needs to go on your wall instead.
And so it continues you learn quickly not to quote Jodie Foster movies
or listen to Indigo Girls too loud. You realize that Peppermint Patty is not
everyones favorite Peanuts character, and that you are probably the only one
who knows which season of Xena the rerun is just by looking at Gabrielles
costume. In high school, you ask Lance, the Dance Team captain, to the Sadie
Hawkins dance. And then, to clear up any rumors, you and Preston go into the
closet. Literally, for seven minutes. In amongst the coats, the two of you re-button
shirts, pound on walls and pant, all the while giggling and not touching each
other. That stops the whispers and the looks for a while.
No wonder were all in therapy.
Dont think that it stops after you get drunk and fall into bed with your
roommate in college, or tell your father why he does not need to worry about a
boy knocking you up. Even after you bring your girlfriend to the family picnic or

get quoted in the article on pride week in the local paper. When you make sure that
rainbow sticker on your car is removable, youre going in. And when you nod
politely and say simply I dont think so as your co-workers list single males they
know? Yep, going in.
Is going in bad? Maybe it isnt if you simply list Ally diversity training on
your resume rather than President and Secretary of the local chapter of the
Lesbian Avengers Literary Society. But if you let teenagers call each other
faggots because you are afraid of what other people think, going in is bad. If you
ever feel yourself too in, just tell the cashier that no, the chicken soup is not for
you, its for your partner, who has the flu, or throw in a reference to Rent, not the
movie, the musical. Peek out. Its cheaper than therapy, and youve spent a lot of
time going in; youve got a longer way to come out.

Beyond Closed Doors

By: Josiah
The fabrication is all I know.
I dont want to be this limited, this confined to the whims of others. My family, my town,
stifles my creativity, those progressive ideas that challenge the very foundation of love.
To love him. To be loved by him.
I wish.... I knew what this meant. All I know is I want it.
I see him in the way they want me to see her. His blonde hair. Short. Spiked. His gentle,
yet masculine personality. Hes her brother.
She likes me;
I like him.
He likes me.
He told me so.
We met... we met at school one day for a science project. I hate science, so... I naturally
drew to someone who loved it. We talked and saw each other after class to work on it.
Mom was shopping. He kissed me.
We didnt really talk about it much after that. I dont think he knew what it means any
more than I do. We just... cant do it again. After that day, I went over to his house daily.
She was there too... I dont mind. I like his company.
His home feels so different from mine... His mothers an architect, so their place is
strong, sturdy, but at the same time starkly innovative.
My friends found out, and they started teasing me about her. At first, I didnt quite
understand. When I asked, they said I had to like her. Its not like I can tell them

Im just.... afraid. My mother... shes a Sunday school teacher at the local congregation.
The church relies on her to spread the gospel, the good news, yet.... if they found out
about me, they wouldnt trust her. Shed convert them to be like me... an abomination.
Today... he came over again. He said he found something cool, something that explained
everything. He said he was gay. That liking guys as a guy wasnt a bad thing.
The door was open, and mom heard... She said he couldnt come back again.
I think... Im gay too. I think.... I can finally see whats going on outside my house.

Inevitability by Travis Cook

Theres nothing dramatic about the story of when I came out to my mom.
There was no screaming, no bawling, no swearing, no threats, no ultimatums, no
Christian counselors and no exorcisms. None of that. After I told my mom I was
gay, we sat on our townhomes balcony for three hours just talking. For nearly
that entire warm July evening, my mom and I sat outside having an honest and
revealing conversation about my life. Pretty much the ideal outcome, I guess.
But thats not what I most vividly remember from that day. Instead, I
remember everything prior to our time on the balcony. I remember that feeling.
Do you know what Im talking about? Its this raw nervousness so intense you
can never forget it. Imagine your stomach is drenched in cold acid and your heart
pulses out hot lava, and the two substances swirl and churn in your midsection.
For me, it started in the morning. I knew this would be one of the only
days Id have to spend with my mom. I had decided weeks earlier that this was
going to be the day I told. My mom asked if I wanted go with her and my step dad
to the mall. Just before we left, I sent her an email. The email said I had to tell
her something important and that if she had not yet talked with me, she needed
to find me and force it out of me. The moment I clicked Send was when the
feeling hit me hard. The plan was set in motion. There was no turning back.
When we got to the mall, I walked steadily about ten feet behind my
parents, not because I was nervous to walk with them, but because my body was

stuck in this inebriated slow motion preventing me from functioning at a normal

speed. I felt heavy even though my feet felt numb and light. I began regretting
putting myself in this situation. I didnt want to be following my parents around
the mall. I was angry at myself for sending that email. I worked out plans in my
head to hack in to her email and erase the message. This didnt have to happen.
Why did I agree to go run errands with them? This was not fun. I didnt want to
stand in the womens section anymore while my mom looked for the correct pair
of nylons. I did not want to be there. I wanted to go home, but did not want to be
at home. I had an alien was about to burst from my ribcage. Why couldnt I be
left alone? This was inescapable. I did not want to let myself down. If I didnt do
this now, I would be so angry at myself.
We made it to the checkout line, and my step-dad ran off to go grab one
more thing. My mom looked at me and asked if I was alright. I told her I was.
Whats wrong? Please tell me whats wrong? she asked. There was no way I
was about to spill my guts around hundreds of other bargain shoppers. I said I
would tell her later. She looked me in the eyes. Will you tell me today? she
asked. I looked back and promised I would.
She asked me two more times on the way home what was wrong. I said
Id tell her when we got back to the house. After we parked and carried
everything inside, my step-dad disappeared into the master bedroom, and my
mom took out a cigarette and her lighter and walked to the balcony door. She
turned around and motioned for me to follow. I put my hands in my pockets,
walked across the living room and out onto the balcony. I felt like I was five

years old again, and I was being punished. I stalled for as long as possible.
Then the last part of me finally broke down, and I told.
Did you feel it? Now do you know the feeling Im talking about. You have
to feel it to understand. Its nausea, anxiety, regret, anxiousness, pain,
excitement, depression, and a hundred other emotions all mashed together. For
me, the only word that comes remotely close to naming this feeling is
inevitability. I know that inevitability is not an emotion, but thats what it feels
like to me.
But maybe for a lot of us, its not even a choice to come out. Maybe its a
necessary step towards happiness and fulfillment. Maybe that horrible feeling I
mentioned is actually the strength building within us, because I have yet to meet
anyone who does not consider themselves stronger after coming out to the
people they care about most. And maybe its that strength that ties us together.
Or maybe its our strength that is inevitable. I dont know. I havent figured it out

Coming out for the bisexual can be somewhat of a challenge

By: Laura
Coming Out for the Bisexual Can Be Somewhat of a Challenge
If Im in a relationship with someone of the same gender, then everyone assumes that Im
lesbian. And if Im in a relationship with someone of the opposite gender, everyone
assumes that Im straight.
For as long as I can remember, I have been attracted to men, but never was in a romantic
relationship with a man until I was 27.
I remember the first time I was drawn to the female form was as a young teenager, she
was my best friend and I never told her. My mind dismissed it as something strange, an
accident to entertain such things. How could a woman ever be attracted to another
woman? Silly girl thoughts.
I stopped wanting marriage and children at a rather young age. I was disillusioned by
everyone elses dreams bursting around me. Still, I didnt feel it necessary to come out as
someone attracted to men until I fell in love with my first female lover.
She was a good friend. She was gay, but those kind of things never mattered to me. By
this time I had long gotten over the strangeness of same sex relationships. Cest la vie, as
they say.
Anyway, we were good friends. I met her at work and thought she and her friends were
nice, so I started hanging out with them sometimes after work, then partying at her house,
and sometimes staying over if it got to be too late or I was too drunk to drive home.
Then there was the night I was awakened with a kiss. (Well, this is not about my first
time, so Ill just leave it at that.)
I was 30 years old when I fell for my first woman. My bubble was burst when she began
insisting that I was now lesbian.
I remember thinking; no, I dont feel like Im lesbian. Im still attracted to guys. Why
must I choose? Why must I be one or the other?
Was I now lesbian? I knew I was no longer straight, I couldnt deny my attraction to this
woman, but I also couldnt deny I was still attracted to men. I began searching for an
alternative to the one or the other.
Growing up, I never had heard of such a thing. Sure, I had heard about polygamy and
orgies and such, but something as simple as allowing myself to feel comfortable with

loving the one or the other. I had no concept of such things. I never even heard of such
terms as bisexual, or bisexuality before this time of searching.
I forget now how I stumbled upon the whole bisexual scene. I may have read about it on
the internet, or perhaps someone mentioned it to me one day, but at some point I
remember thinking; this sounds interesting.
I began seeking out other bisexuals in the city of Dallas. A chapter of BiNet had recently
started there and I sought them out. I began talking to them about their experiences and
realized I had much in common with them.
The more I talked to these people and read literature by bisexual authors, mostly
Hutchins and Kaahumanu but also George and other less known authors, including a
rather interesting web-zine at the time called Anything That Moves , the more I realized
that I identified with them more than the one or the other.
But allowing myself to be who I was meant I would either be uncomfortable with others
misunderstanding of who I really was, or I would be forever coming out not only to my
straight friends, but also to my gay friends.
My straight friends seemed to think I was some sort of deviant that being bisexual
meant that I needed both to be fulfilled that I was somehow now incapable of
monogamy that I cared more about sex and body parts. They didnt seem to get that for
me bisexuality meant no longer caring about the parts, but allowing myself to love
whomever, regardless of the parts.
My gay friends seemed to think that I was just kidding myself that I needed to make up
my mind one way or the other that I wanted to pass as straight while having my gay
lifestyle on the side at my convenience
Neither seemed to get it.
I remember the day I came out to my doctor. I thought she needed to know. She had been
somewhat concerned about my level of stress, with my diabetes and all.
She straight away sent me to a therapist. It was the best thing Ive ever done for myself.
With all the changes going on in my life (my emerging bisexuality being only a small
part of that), I really needed an outlet for figuring out who I really was, after all.
My therapist, bless her heart, accepted me for who I was and only wished to help me
understand myself and how to deal with the level of comfort I was achieving with my
newly discovered self.
My new bisexual friends seemed to understand me best. Although they didnt all define
themselves exactly the same way that I did.

You see, bisexuality can mean different things for different bisexuals. Many people do
hold the concept that bisexuality is exclusively all about having both.
For some this may be true, but this is merely one possibility.
Just as in any other relationship, there is a possibility for polygamy or monogamy; there
is this possibility for bisexuals as well. Some may feel they must have both to be fulfilled.
For me, though, I acknowledge that there is the possibility for attraction to either. That is
what acknowledging my bisexuality has given me; not limiting myself based on the
either/or. Its given me the freedom to love the one Im attracted to.
These days, I dont really go around trying to justify my orientation. I will, however,
attempt to correct others misunderstanding when it is brought to my attention. So, I find
myself coming out to you, here tonight.
I am in a seven year committed relationship with a lesbian, and I cant imagine myself
ever loving anyone else. She accepts that I love her for who she is. Who she is, excluding
and encompassing her gender and orientation. I dont look at her and see first a woman; I
look at her and see first the person I love.

By: Michael
They make me feel less.
I don't feel happy, I don't feel sad, and those tiny little blue pills sure don't solve any
problems. I shouldn't be taking them. I shouldn't be putting my body through this.
Fucking with brain chemistry is a fucking big deal, but none of that matters because the
pills keep me from doing the one thing that I really, really want to do.
I want to put a period at the end of a sentence. That's all I want to do. Seems inhumane,
but that's the way these pills make me feel. They make me feel less. They make it so that
I have to talk about myself in inane metaphors so that I can make any sense. Everything
is by proxy, nothing is direct.
So that period at the end of that sentence? I'm talking about fucking suicide here. I
just wish I could let myself do that. The period is a finality - an end. And the sentence
isn't a string of words, it's a death sentence that makes the period at the end completely
inevitable. Yet I can't come right out and say that. I can't say: I tried to take my own
miserable life and the only part of that that concerns me is the fact that I'm now
chemically prohibited from getting up the nerve to do so again.
So my sentence, right? The one that ends in that poignant period? "I'm gay." Period.
Simple as that: two easy words that carry almost absolutely no meaning by themselves
because meaning is always derived from context. My context: I'm a suicidally depressed
closeted homosexual trying to fit into a world that doesn't want me around. Now, of
course, I'm not actually suicidal. Not any more anyway. Now I'm just a closeted

homosexual as two pills a day have taken away every ability to feel happy, sad, excited,
angry, perturbed, aroused, or even hopeful.
So I guess it did work. I wanted to end my life, and here I am without one, drifting along
from hour to hour and wondering why I can't be compelled to give a damn about anyone
or anything including myself. Unfortunately to prolong that inane metaphor, these pills
are a comma, not a period. They don't stop anything, they just drag out nothingness - that
fucking emptiness of existence that comes when you find out that not only does nobody
give a damn about you or your life, but that they would rather you be removed from it.
That you're so scumsuckingly low, so virulently immoral, so passionately hated by God
Himself that your lungs don't deserve the air rapidly pumping into them as you cry your
stifled sobs.
That's the sentence. That's what it feels like to know, in the grand scheme of things,
you're just a typo. A typo in a sentence with a period. The grievous errors in your creation
overshadow anything that you could have become or meant and you're condemned to
either live life as an abnormal aberration or put a stop to life altogether.
Let's hear it for those pills - little milligrams that keep me emotionally comatose and
ineffectually existing from day to day - alleviating everything but solving nothing. Doing
nothing to fix any part of that that one small fucked up sentence: I'm gay. Period.

Another Coming Out Story

By: Krista
Coming out . . . the process is anything but easy. It should be simple enough:
the person coming out merely has to indicate (usually verbally, but sometimes nonverbally, with a sign or symbolic gesture) his or her sexual identity. Significantly,
coming out is something that heterosexual people rarely stop to think about, though
they openly affirm their sexual identity in a variety of everyday and ordinary ways: they
openly declare their love for someone of the opposite sex, they get married, and they
receive legal protections and rights based on their State-sanctioned unions. For most of
them, its perfectly natural, and they cannot imagine it being any other way. Most people
assume that we are heterosexual unless we declare ourselves to be otherwise.
But what if someone isnt heterosexual? If that person wishes to live an open and
honest life, then he may feel compelled to articulate a non-heterosexual identity, to make
it clear to others and to herself that she is different, that he is not what everyone already
assumes him to be. Significantly, coming out isnt something that someone does once,
and then its done. It is a process of claiming an identity (or perhaps multiple identities
throughout ones life or even at the same moment) again and again, as that person meets
new people, feels compelled to remind others of his sexual identity, or even decides that a
particular label doesnt quite match up to who she really is. Though coming out can be
difficult, it has certainly been a necessary process in my own life and has taught me a lot
about myself, those around me, and the world that I live in.
For me, coming out has truly been a process. I first came out to myself when I
was an undergraduate in college, and it really wasnt any big, life-altering experience for

me. After talking to a female clerk at a record store, I had this moment where I thought to
myself, I think I kind of like this person.... I mean, really like her. It all seemed so
simple, and it did put some things into focus for me. Though it would be several years
before I came out to my familycoming out to family seemed, at the time, much more
complicatedthe realization that I was sexually attracted to women was pretty
uneventful in itself.
In some ways, it is surprising that this realization I had about myself didnt make
me anxious. In high school, Id had several close friends who were gay. Two of thema
female couplehad a pretty rough time of it. Their cars were vandalized, and they were
subjected to daily harassment in the hallways of my small-town Oklahoma high school.
My parents knew that I had friends who were lesbian and gay, and though I come from a
staunchly Southern Baptist family, neither of my parents ever made me feel like
something was wrong with me for being friends with gay people.
However, my rigidly religious parents also made it very clear to me that
homosexuality was wrong. It was easy for them to love the sinner and hate the sin.
Homosexuality was a sin, and people who were gay could overcome their desires with
Gods help. Though I dont remember too many sermons against homosexuality per se, I
do remember a few, and the message was loud and clear: homosexuality is a sin.
I was never put into the position of reconciling my sexuality with a Southern
Baptist religious faith because I had been questioning my relationship to Christianity for
some time. By the time I came out to myself, Id already spent many years questioning
the tenets of Christianity and had come to realize that I was not a Christian.

I didnt come out to my family until I was in graduate school. I told my sister Kim
first, and she helped me break the news to my parents and other two sisters. Kim has
always been supportive of me being who I am and being open about it. There have been
some instances in my family history where secrets have hurt people deeply and damaged
relationships. Kim and I agree that living a secret life, steeped in shame, is no way to
Initially, my parents were not supportive of me being a lesbian. I was prepared for
this; in fact, I would have been shocked if their reaction was anything else. As good
Southern Baptists, their first response was that I should get some counseling from a
counselor they would pay for. I knew what this meant, and I was not interested in
conversion therapy. The one thing I asked my parents not to do was to try to change
me. I believed that their asking me to see a Christian therapist was an effort on their part
to change me, and I didnt appreciate it. I closed off the possibility of having any
meaningful dialogue with my parents about my sexuality because I believed they were
trying to make me straight. They both told me that they loved me and always would,
but they also made it clear that they may not ever accept me as a gay person.
I introduced my long-term partner, Laura, to my family at their invitation. My
father had asked me to bring Laura home over Christmas in 2003. This was really a huge
step forward. My father had come to realize that not accepting me as a lesbian meant not
having access to a huge part of my life, and he decided that he didnt want to risk losing
me entirely.
My father passed away quite unexpectedly in 2004, while recovering in the
hospital after routine surgery. Dealing with my fathers death was extremely difficult;

however, my mothers inability at that time to deal with my partner being a part of my
life continues to be a very sore spot for me. She let me know that Laura wouldnt be
welcome at my fathers funeral or in her home during the funeral.
I am happy that my mother has come a long way in the few short years since my
fathers funeral. Laura has been included in family gatherings, and she has also met my
extended family. We refuse to hide our relationship. If someone in my family cant deal
with it, then its their problem. I have seen my family, especially my mother, make
significant progress. Though she will never be a strong advocate for LGBT rights, she has
taken a stand for me. At gatherings of her family and friends, she is no longer ashamed of
me and my partner, and this is huge.
I often hear people say that homosexuality must surely be natural or inborn because no
one, given the option, would choose to be gay. I disagree. What I find problematic about
the assertion that no one, given a choice, would choose to be gay is that it automatically
privileges heterosexual experience. Yes, if I were straight, I wouldnt have had to deal
with all of the difficulties Ive discussed here. However, if I was heterosexual, so much of
my life experiences and what makes me me wouldnt exist. I wouldnt have learned all
that Ive learned from a vantage point of being a sexual minority. I would not appreciate
struggles for equality and social justice as I appreciate them now. I wouldnt have the
wonderful relationship with my partner that I have. Being non-heterosexual has given a
texture to my life that I wouldnt have if I were straight. I might experience another
texture as a straight person, but it wouldnt be the same life that I have now. So, if I could
choose to be straight or gay, Id say that Id choose to be gay: Id choose the person Ive
become over the person I might have been if things were different.

Whips, Leather, and Chains...Oh My...I LOVE IT. Dont You, Mom? by Matt Davis

Picture this: I'm 19. A scenic drive from my campus to home. We're in the
family truck. My mom is driving and I am in the passenger seat.
I should probably put in a bit of back story. Im kinky. I figured out I was
kinky before I figured out I was only attracted to men. Well.I like bondage, and
leather, domination, S&M in all its wonderful formsthe trust and the
connectionsthe power/control transferencethe amazing headspace that
vanilla sex cant quite approach. HellI dominated a guy before I ever kissed
one.Im THAT into it. It is one of the few identities I will always have. And one
of the things I did when I was younger was create an e-mail address that was
distinctive in its depiction of my *ahem* tastes.
Now for my mom. She was raised a Mormon, but was excommunicated
from the church when she got pregnant with my older sister when she was 16.
Got the back story? Good. Back to the car ride home.
Were cresting a hill on the way to San Bernardino. My mom says I dont
want you using that e-mail on my computer anymore. I dont want Melody seeing
it and I dont want you using it. I turn and look at her and think a million thoughts
at once. I think of my identity as a kinky Dominant. I think of the arguments Ive
had with the Old Guard generation about my being a Dominant without being a
submissive first. I think of me mumbling something about that e-mail being my
junk-mail address. Then I think of pride, and that pride produces rebellion. And

that rebellion is what makes me respond with:

Why do you think I chose an e-mail like that? Im INTO it.
Her response: You dont know what youre talking about!
My retort: Yes I do.
Her follow-up: Why would you want to do that? You like to get tied up?
People are going to take advantage of you and youll end up in the dessert in a
million pieces.
Now, because of my age and my relative naivette, its easy to see why I
would be mistaken for a submissive, which, right now, is a huge insult. How dare
she label me a submissive!
I turn to her and I say: No, actually its the other way around. Im the one
that does the tying up.
Her response: When could you do this? Youve never done any of this.
My retaliation: I did it with C---. C---- was the first guy I ever dominated. A
guy I met from online fresh out of the closet. Not my brightest idea though he did
turn out to be a great guy. Not psychopathic at all.
Now at this point my mother is fired up. When she has an emotion, she
doesnt have it half-assed.
Her outburst: Well if any children disappear around the neighborhood Ill
know who did it.
Very few times in my life am I truly shocked into silence. And this is one of
them. A few minutes later I respond with: I cant believe you just said that.
Shes at the point where shes simmering down, so she remains silent.

Sidenote: Dont come out to your parents, in any way, when theyre driving on the road.
Its a safety hazard.

I dont speak to my mother much over the next few weeks. I am livid,
constantly reliving the conversation over in my mind. And it doesnt end there.
Over the next few months she makes ignorant jokes about my extra-sexual
activities. Until one day I get tired of it. I am fed up. So I sit down next to her and
have this long convoluted conversation with her about kink. I liken it to other
socially acceptable activities. Think marathon runners or bodybuilders, they do it
to feel good and get those endorphins and get a rush right? Well I tie up guys, I
spank them, I induce consensual pain with clothespins and paddles and hot wax
to get to a very similar headspace.
In the end: I cry, she cries, but mostly I cry. The conversation lasts more
than two hours. And I am hoarse from talking so much. I give her a lot to think
about. And to her great benefit shes much better about it now, and about me
being gay, and thats why she will always be the most inspirational person in my
Whats the email that started all this, you ask? It is Send me a message sometime.

By Katrina
SCENE: Therapist office. Year: turn of the millennia - 2000

How do I feel about my vagina? Oh, Im sorry the actual question was how I
felt about my penis? Silly me, I keep getting the two mixed up.

Therapist scribbles on yellow notepad: Ambivalence towards genitals

Therapist says: I dont really think that you are a woman. Perhaps you should
join some of the local transvestite groups to see if this is the lifestyle you wish to pursue

Patient is driven home by lover, tears do not stop falling for the next year.

Location: College Station , Texas

Year: Present

The alarm clock buzzes yet again. I hit snooze for the fifth time and snuggle
up against my lover, craning my neck back to kiss her forehead and lose myself in her

Eventually though, the threat of being late for work rouses me from slumber
and I make my way to the shower. Water cascades onto my face and breasts. I imagine I
am bathing nude in some Amazonian waterfall surrounded by green trees, life, and the
twitter of strange birds. Then, I grab the towel, dry off and stand in front of the mirror. I

marvel at how my breasts have developed and how my figure is developing, a sense of
pride grows as I examine my breasts for any changes.

My glance falls past my abdomen and the darkness descends. I am a freak, a

he-she and in-between thing. I try to cheer myself up thinking of the classically carved
statues of Greek Hermaphrodites, strong and toned Androgynes of both strength and
gentleness at the same time. The image lifts my spirits for but a second, and the gloom
descends again. Why was I born this way? Why am I stuck in between. Why God, why
did you do this to me. Why cant you in all your omnipotence just pay a visit to me
during the night and make me complete.

Make it so that I can live the dreams I envy other women of, the white picket
fence, the monthly connection to the humus of life the dirt, the muck, the crap and the
blood. The blood that brings forth life in the form of a child to cradle against my breasts,
kiss upon the forehead and raise with my partner who is but a playful kid herself? A child
to rock when she is young. To be disappointed in when he is older and thinks he knows
everything. Finally, to sit quietly with him/her as she/he gains the wisdom that comes
only when one has truly lived long enough?

Instead, Mother of Heaven, the path you have lain before me is one of struggle,
anxiety, frustration, and little rest.

In regard to making my body right in who I know I am, I have to jump through
hurdle after hurdle. Saving up 30 plus thousand dollars for but one operation to only
begin to address putting my body right. Then, there are the permission slips from

doctors to have that procedure. I actually have to defend something as basic as my

identity, I have to prove to some arbitrary third party who and what I am only to be
patted on the head like a small child and be told to grow up. Insurance helps pay for the
meds, but whereas this is a real female problem for me my body is not fucking right
and no once can see that but me I am denied assistance to help pay for a lessening of
the pain I feel every waking moment.

Then there are my romantic relationships. Apparently I am a non-person with

no rights. I cannot fall in love with and marry a man because of some preconceived idea
of what kind of chromosomes I might have. Alternatively, I cannot wed the love of my
life, the woman that consoles, cradles, and walks with me through the dark corridors of
my life because we cant allow those homosexuals to spread their wicked agenda and be
seen as normal.

All the while, whispers behind my back break forth. What kind of sex does
he/she have? How can she really be a lesbian when she has a dick? I bet you that she
is just really a straight man in disguise to get more women Totally disregarding my
reality. Totally refusing to acknowledge that I can hear the hushed whispers and not
having the metaphoric balls to look my straight in the eye and ask me What kind of sex
do you have?

Not only disregarding my reality, my identity, but totally undermining how my

partner sees me how she coaxes me under the covers late at night, how she helps me
visualize my pussy, how she enters me, and how she sees what I have as not an
abnormality, but as a slightly larger clit with which to make me feel totally enraptured,

enthralled, and to fall into that cool, dark place that lovers take each other to where love
plays like a lively jazz band during the depths of depression.

And then, outside of the bedroom, to be treated as a second-class citizen as all

women are, with expectations that I be demure and subdued, to not raise my voice, get
angry, or speak back. Yet, to be turned upon by my sisters who dont want to use the
same restroom as such a freak. Who are afraid that somehow this creature they met is
going to do something to them when they are not looking. Among other lesbians I am the
straight man trying to steal their women and their power. Among straight women I am
the gay man who cannot accept his sexuality. And so by everyone but my own
community and the family I create I am something other.

And yet, Mother of Heaven, all of this gnashing of teeth, all of this crawling
among the dank, squirmy, things of the darkness gives me strength. In learning to be a
warrior woman, I find my voice. I find the gift of leadership within my own heart. I find
the wobbling legs to stand upon so I can blink in the daylight and let my voice be heard.

So thank you. Thank you for the mismatch of parts, thank you for my
uniqueness. Thank you for the fire that they cause to boil within my blood. Thank you for
making me the transsexual that I am.

I am not Ambivalent, nor am I mindlessly pursuing some infatuation with a

surgery. I am methodically planning and working towards wholeness. A wholeness that
begins within and then moves without to change the very world I live in.

I Can Look at Both

By: Ashley
I always knew that I liked women too.
Yes, too.
As in--as well.
I like women AND I like men.

In middle school and into high school,

I found myself looking at women.
secretly wanting women
I found myself looking at men
also wanting men
which was much easier for me to understand
but my finding women attractive?
That didn't mean I wasn't straight-People can find other people attractive without it having to mean something about who
they are

I didn't think I was gay

I thought everybody was able to find any gender attractive

I didn't think I was gay

Im attracted to men

And women who are attracted to menare wellstraight.

But, I was finding it hard to believe I was straight

Because I was looking at both genders
As if there was no difference between man, woman, masculine, feminine
I was looking at men and women and I liked it.

In high school
my gay experience was my friend Paul
but he liked men and it was normal for Paul to like men
just men...
we didn't talk about women...
because it was normal for Paul to not like women
yet here I was wanting to talk about both
but thinking it was wrong because youre either gay or straight
society made me believe there was no in between

I guess that was part of my confusion-I could talk about men and be straight
but talk about women? and be gay?
I was confused...
Everything was black and whitebut I just wanted to be a little grey

Grey is open-minded...
able to appreciate all beauty...
not gay
not straight

I never felt the need to come out because well...I liked men.
I dated men
And I thought only the girls on the basketball team needed to come out
But, I wanted to be "dating" women...
Not the basketball women
But outside of basketball there wasnt much of that going on in my high school
The exploration of my sexuality was never an option because basketball women just
werent my type.

So, I graduated from high school....

I left for college-its supposed to be liberal there
I can explore my sexuality there.
There has to be more than just basketball women in college
I ended up in the center of conservatism
Unbeknownst to me I was in a place where different was wrong

During my first year of college

I met a woman who thought I was straight

Hell, I still thought I was straight too.
But to my surprise
And to her surprise
I began to explore a side of myself that was aching to begin.

I began to realize that the relationship I was having with this woman
Was no different than what I felt from a previous relationship with a man
Anatomy, Identity, are merely words
I began to realize

It was then that I became comfortable with not being straight

It was then that I came out to myself.
It was then that I began to realize that even though society tells me to look at one or the
I can look at both.
It is okay for me to want both.

Women and Men.

Remember Chris God Hates Fags

By: Chris

Remember Chris, God hates fags.

I grew up in a small town in Colorado, in a very conservative household, as an
upstanding member in our local Church. I went to Sunday service, Sunday school and
even went through confirmation.
I grew older and began to realize that I was a bit different from most of the other boys. I
found that rather than be attracted to all the beautiful women, I was always looking at
their boyfriends.
Heck, I didnt even know what the word gay was until I was in middle school (when I
looked it up in our family dictionary). You can imagine how difficult it would be to
determine if you are gay if you dont even know what it means. The dictionary really
didnt explain it in terms I could follow. Thats why my friend Sam thought he would
simplify it for me by showing me first-hand what gay sex is. I was assured that I would
understand the whole gay thing afterwards.
Remember Chris God hates fags.
Soon after my experience with Sam I thought that I might really be gay. So I made daily
prayers for God to make me straight. Those turned out to be as useful as peeing on a
forest fire. Though every once in a while I would hear encouraging words from my
mother like Hey Chris, I just learned three new reasons at church why its bad to be
gay! I dont think she had any idea at the time.
Remember Chris, God hates fags.

I began my straightification at the beginning of college. I was going to be straight if it

was the last thing I did. I found a pretty girl, that I liked, and could be friends with, and
began trying to start a relationship with her. It didnt seem to be going well at all, but my
soul depended on it.
Remember Chris, God hates fags.
I quickly met one of my girlfriends gay friends and developed a crush on him. With
him, I met more and more gay people and was introduced to many gay supportive
programs. I found myself joining and even leading some of the groups that I was
introduced to. I felt like I belonged and was finally accepting who I was. I began to
realize that I wasnt the only one, and that I wasnt choosing to be gay. Needless to say
my straightification didnt exactly go the way I had planned. I ended up becoming
somewhat of an activist, and eventually decided to tell my sister I was gay. It was great,
she told me thank you. Thank you for sharing with me such a personal part of your life,
and Im sorry you had to be alone for so long.
I felt like perhaps I was not destined for the eternal pits of damnation. That was of course
until I came back to school. At school I was informed by a vocal group of young
conservatives that Satin is a flamer and its Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve.
Remember Chris, God hates fags.
Eventually the stress of not telling my parents built up to an extreme. I had to find out if
they would really disown me, or if they could at least tolerate my condition. The T.V.
was on and as the commercials began I started to tell my parents I was gay. Youd think
that telling your parents you are gay would be hard enough. But no, telling them you are

gay during a commercial about HIV/ AIDS, that is tough, and is exactly what I ended up
My parents were stunned, though through it all, they did exactly what I hadnt expected.
They told me that they will always love me, and that they only want the best for me.
Whether they understand my sexuality or not, that will always remain the same. That
was all I needed, my last piece of evidence to show me exactly what I had come to know.
Remember Chris, God loves you.

Southern Baptist Boi by Kylan Coats

Theres no way I could call myself anything, but Southern. Technically I
was born in Amory, Mississippi, but my family lived in a log cabin in Columbus,
Mississippi. I lived there for six years, Louisiana for seven, and Texas for five
before finally coming out to Los Angeles for college.
I grew up Southern Baptist. For kindergarten, I went to a private Catholic
school, only because Immaculate Conception was the best in the area, for which
I dont think Ma-Maw ever forgave my parents.
At the age of 14, I looked at gay porn for the first time. I simply typed in
the word gay on the internet out of curiosity as to what it could possibly mean. I
had certainly called enough people it, specifically this one new boy at our school
with a lazy eye. Whenever I did, the other kids would stop making fun of me and
start on him which made my life a little easier. My father saw the list of internet
sites that I looked at during my search for what gay meant. He yelled at me and
told me that I should never look at that again and that I could have messed up his
reputation and name by looking up things like that. I cried and apologized.
Over the next four years I learned, like any good gay boy, how to hide my
searches for pornography. However, growing up Southern Baptist brought with it
numerous calls to repentance and I confessed my struggle with gay pornography
several times to my parents. The first time they reacted surprisingly well and I
thought that everything would be Okay. Then they sent me to a Christian
psychiatrist. After a few months of seeing the woman, and largely due to my

parents reminders of how much her services cost them, I told my parents I was
fine and they didnt bother me anymore about it. When I confessed to them
again before I left for college, they were less understanding. My father yelled that
if I ever looked at it again, he would physically hurt me to the point that I would
have to go to the hospital. I would never be allowed to come back to the house
or to see my two younger brothers ever again. I was then told to inform my
mother of the agreement that he and I had. In a way, this made going to school
in Los Angeles a little bit easier.
In college, I became much less Southern Baptist. This didnt happen over
night and many spiritual events occurred life to bring me to the point where I
simply told God, This doesnt work. I couldnt look at myself in the mirror with
so much hate and self-loathing and say that I was living the life God wanted me
The man that showed me more about love and acceptance than anything I
had ever learned in all my years in the church, he was my first boyfriend.
Without him, I dont think that I would have ever found myself where I did on
October 16 at the Houston Intercontinental Airport.
I had flown back to surprise my younger brother for his 18th birthday. He
was surprised. My parents were pleased. I was shining as an older son. My
intentions were genuine for the entire trip; I really did fly back on my dime to
surprise my brother. And as my parents drove me to the airport to go back to
L.A., I made a decision for myself.
I had my bags with me as I stood outside my dads white H2 Hummer. His

pistol was at home and he didnt have any weapons concealed in his truck that I
knew of. My petite mom was desperately struggling to climb up into the front
seat. I had my boarding pass in my hand for my flight. I managed to get out,
Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you and then I started bawling. After
about ten minutes, I managed to stammer out, Im gay, and then continued to
cry as I braced myself for my parents reaction. My mother hugged me. My dad
looked at me with a face that will be burned into my memory till I die. My mom
said she loved me. My dad said I would always be his son. And then I ran into
the airport.
I texted my ex-boyfriend and best friend who were both standing by to pick
me up from LAX. They told me they couldnt wait to see me and I would be
home in no time. Although my flight was delayed first an hour, and then two, I
rested in the knowledge that I had told my parents and had come out of the
ordeal relatively unscathed. It wasnt until after the fourth hour of being delayed,
when the flight was cancelled, that I began to pray. I told God that He had a
very, very sick sense of humor and I expected a golden chariot if the flight wasnt
leaving. The chariot didnt arrive and neither did my flight. I had to call my
parents and tell them to come pick me up and take me back to the airport the
next morning.
In my mind I told myself that I would look back at the situation and laugh
and I have, but its a lot harder to laugh when you are in the situation, knowing
that your father has had ample time to retrieve his firearm before getting back
into his H2 Hummer. I keep bringing up guns because my family has a history of

shooting at each other. Normally people arent actually hit by anything, but shots
have been known to go in the general direction of a relative.
When my parents did pick me up, the ride home was merciless. My
mother called me a coward and a liar. She told me that I would become a
pedophile and move to San Francisco and get AIDS. She asked me how I could
live with myself knowing that I had committed such a horrible sin. My father was
silent. When we finally got home, my mother stormed off to her room. My dad
gave me the same look that he had given me in his truck earlier. He told me that
I would always be his son and that he would always love me. He said he always
knew that I was different and he thought that it was all biological, but that if it was
a choice, I had chosen a very tough life. He confessed that he was really
confused with everything and just didnt know what to do. Then he hugged me
and cried. I hugged him back and I cried.
The next morning he drove me to the airport. We talked more openly then
we had ever talked before. He asked me questions about things I had said when
I was younger and I responded about the things I could remember. When we
came back to the terminal again, my dad hugged me in his truck. He cried again
and I did too. He told me that he loved me, that I would always be his son, and
that we would get this worked out. Then I stepped down out of the Hummer,
walked into the airport, and flew back to my school in Los Angeles; still a Baptist,
still Southern, and still gay.

Coming To Terms by Eli

- Melissa
This was originally a blog that I posted on my Myspace

When a fetus develops in the mothers womb, all babies begin as female. Some
doctors believe that when the mother releases the hormone required to change the fetus
from female to male, the baby doesnt always complete the change. This is their basis for
how people are born transgender. For me, I feel as if my brain changed, but not my body.
For me, there is a difference between sex and gender. Sex is biology, its physical; and
biologically, I am a female. Gender is in the mind, its mental, its how one identifies
themselves. Mentally I identify as male.

This goes back to as far as I can remember, except that I never really realized it
until I sat down and really thought about it. It started when I was really little, like 3 or 4,
wanting to be Batman whenever we played superheroes, or Peter Pan, or a Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtle. Then in elementary, I always wanted to play with the guys and be
rough and obnoxious. In middle school, I began to have my tomboy phase where I was
obsessed with wearing guys clothes and even wanted to chop all my hair off. I would
wear baggy jeans and baggy band shirts. I would tie my hair back into tight braids and
wear ball caps. I even had a wallet chain. I only dated girls and was very masculine.

Then in high school, it went even further. I even went by a guys name my whole
freshman year. I had all of my friends call me Ray , a shortened version of my middle
name, but the name just didnt seem right, it didnt seem to fit. I mistook all of this for
being a butch lesbian.....except that Im not a lesbian. I like both, but I prefer being

physical with guys. I remember seeing groups like Three Days Grace and Shine
Down and Sum 41 and the guys who did the X-games and wanting to look like that. To
be that. To be macho and sexy and tough.

My senior year, things really began to intensify. I remember walking to school

one day in one of my outfits and I had a purse with me. And it felt like the most awkward
thing in the world. And it never had before. I began to clip out pictures of guys in
magazines that I wanted to look like. And then, I finally heard a term I had never heard
about, but completely intrigued me. It first started with a magazine article in Teen People
about two teens who were both transgender. One was a female-to-male, or FTM and the
other was a male-to-female or MTF. The article completely fascinated me, so I began to
collect articles from magazines and tried to research it, but I didnt know where to look.

Now Im here, in college at Texas A&M, and Ive noticed that living here, its a
lot harder for me to cross-dress like I did at home. I find it very ironic too, because my
dad is a very big conservative. But being here, around thousands of people I dont know
and living with a roommate who I just met when I moved here, I feel like I have to hide
it. Like they cant know that I enjoy wearing ball caps with hoodies. Or that I wear Axe
Deodorant because I know girls love the way it smells.I want people to know me for who
I am on the inside, that way they wont care who I am on the outside. I would rather ease
people into this instead of just shocking them with it. I feel that if I was completely out
in the open, no one would want to associate themselves with me.

So I am in this amazing group called the G.L.B.T.A. Here is where I learned

about who and what I am. For a few weeks our group had been focusing on the

transgender issues in todays society. They had a few speakers come to meetings and talk
about what it means to be transgendered. And to hear it from someone who is going
through it, made it easier to connect and understand and come to terms with it. So in case
you havent already figured out what Im about to say.... I am a transgendered
person.....and this is me coming out. Right now. As my masculine alter ego, if you will, I
identify as a bisexual guy who prefers guys, but occasionally dates girls. A guy who is
very masculine. My name that I go by is Eli, a shortened version of my female first

When I had originally posted this on my Myspace blog, it was right after the first
meeting with a transgender speaker and I felt liberated. I had to get it out about who I
was. I didnt care if anyone read my blog or not, it was just one of those things that
needed to be spoken for sanitys sake. Only one person responded. My best friend, a girl
Ive known since birth, told me that she didnt care what I was, she would always love
me for who I am on the inside. That made it so much easier to deal with. Now when I
refer to myself, a lot of times, I notice that I refer to myself as a guy rather than a girl.
Most people dont even seem to notice, which is nice. Im slowly coming to terms with
this part of myself.

One Half Gay

By: Vanessa & Carissa
(Vanessas part in Black, Carissas in Red)
Im the treasurer for the GLBTA
Im the social coordinator for the GLBTA
Ive worked in the GLBT center on campus since 2006
I was approached by them to quit my job and work for them in 2007.
I participate in Guess Whos Gay Panels
I also do LOTS of Guess Whos Gay Panels
I volunteer for the Brazos Valley QueSt to unite the queer/straight community
I do too, AND Im their grant coordinator
Ive been an Aggie ALLY since October of 2005
Im an Aggie ALLY too, since September 2005.
Both: Which one of us is gay?
One Half Gay
I never really knew much about gay stuff outside of Speech and Debate. And even
then it was all about gay-guy stuff. Im sure had I known more about lesbians, I could
have saved myself the trouble of dating those closeted gay guys in high school, almost
causing a car accident, a few freak-outs, not to mention all those snide little in the closet
No Dad, dont worry there wont be any boys in our dorm room, huh twin?
Yeah, tia, thats why Im not dating, because none of the boys at school interest me.

You know, being the straight twin is harder than it looks. Every single time my sister
comes out, so do I.
When people find out that, my twin is a lesbian the natural and always unavoidable
question follows So, how about you? Im straight Ive replied time and time again.
People never really seem to be glad to hear that though, as if it would have been much
better for them to have met gay twins and now Ive gone and ruined it for them

I never really knew who Id come out to first. I assumed itd be Carissa, shes my twin, I
tell her EVERYTHING. But somehow, in the very beginning of my coming out process
all of my coming outs werent really planned or coordinated.
That BITCH didnt even tell me first! She is supposed to tell me everything!
What ended up happening was that I decided to semi-come out to my sister while we
were driving. It was one of those impulse coming outs, where you dont really intend to
do it but then it sort of just slips and all of a sudden your in mid-sentence thinking,
car sick? Hungry? Tired? Pregnant? Double jointed? Losing my sense of smell? In
love with your boyfriend? Drunk?
We went to wash the car down the street and it was hot and I was tired and in one of
those lets get home in the air conditioning before I die kinda moods. It was a weekend,
I was operating on auto-pilot, my brain was just on power save!
Well luckily I didnt have to think that fast since my story is a bit different. We had just
finished doing some very butch workwe were washing the car! I swear this plot could
only have been better had we been changing the oil (which coincidentally only my
straight sister knows how to do). Anyway, were driving back to my house which is less
than a mile away and I brilliantly decide that a question was in order. As if a question
might through her off my scent and maybe make it more of a general, Hey, Im just
wondering type of conversation. Very hypothetical! So as I press on the brake, at the last
stop sign before my streetI start:
Were driving along in our little non-air conditioned vehicle, so close to home and all of a
sudden out of no where Vanessa asks me:
Hey twin, would you still love me if I was gay?
Really? I asked in hopes that she was just kidding
Really, I wouldnt love you anymore if you were gay.
Then all of a sudden: **CRASH** I wrapped the car around a light pole. Long story
short she ended up paralyzed from the neck down, which is really the moral of the story:
Be nice to your siblings when they come out to you IN THE CAR!!!
I totally wasnt expecting that question. I didnt know! I thought it was really just a
random stupid question that she was just asking for no real reason. I mean, its not a

normal question! I thought she was just curious how I would feel cuz we had a really
good friend who had recently come out to us. (Coincidentally, in my car as well)
Well thats not what happened but serves her right if it had, cuz thats TOTALLY NOT
I dont even remember the rest of the ride home, and it really wasnt anything weird
between us after this conversation, still it delayed my actual coming out to her by about 6
months, which oddly enough contained the same opener only slightly modifiedand
with a lot more umph Hey twin, you really wouldnt still love me if I was gay? Thats
I still loved her. Like I was going to stop? Come on! As a matter of fact, when my mom
began to suspect that my sister might, havelet seeshe called it other things on her
mind she asked me first. I woke up early on Saturday morning and as I helped her make
breakfast she just sprang it on me, Carissa why arent you dating? Is it because you have
other things on my mind? No I dont have other things on my mind I would angrily
I can still remember how the day began, I got out of bed, noticed Carissa was already up,
used the restroom and when I was done Carissa quickly ushered me back into my room.
She had one of those urgentI have to tell you somethingkind of faces.
Then of course she would steer the convo towards my sister, very casually like I wasnt
going to notice the shift or something, So what about Vanessa? And of course I
panicked.UhNo, she just doesnt like anyone right now is what would come
stumbling out, while Im really thinking okay mom, if you think Vanessas a lesbian,
SHE IS!!!!!! She would then tell me not to tell Vanessa that she had asked me because
she was going to have this same talk with her later that same day..So naturally the first
thing I said to Vanessa when she woke up was:
Fresh from sleep I had no idea what to expect, but I was sure it was some pretty jucymust tell- gossip, I never expected to hear:
BOTH Your moms gonna ask you if youre gay!
But Im not supposed to tell you so you have to act like you dont know!
I freaked out! I didnt know what to say! I panicked!
How do you know?
Did she tell you?
Well when the time came, I lied! Lied lied and lied some more! I wasnt ready to tell her!
How dare she ask me? The nerve! When I actually came out to her it was not the greatest
of reactions.

When my mom officially found out that Vanessa was indeed gay.she got a bit
hysterical and cried and yelled and not only at Vanessa! I got told that I was a bad
daughter because how dare I keep this secret from her for so long? Didnt I think she
deserved to know? Who the hell did I think I was?
Eventually she came around and is completely fine with it now. Shes even helped me
come out to some other members of my family. And Carissa has become one of the
greatest allies ever. Shes got more gay pride these days than most gays and lesbians I
My moms even started talking about going to PFLAG meetings in El Paso and even
though I may not have been completely accepting at first I support Vanessa no matter
what. Im proud to be the twin to a gay sister, proud to have a gay half and proud that I
am able to be an Ally.