I could easily access my emotions for them. I had a couple of girlfriends and I was attracted to them. My desires for men were not really accessible to me. “You’re gay?” “Yes, I’m bisexual.”īefore this moment I had never thought of myself as bisexual. A boy called me a maricón and I retorted: “So what if I am?” He looked mortified. I was in 9th grade English class when the straw finally broke the camel’s back. How could I explain to my mom that the kids at school for over a year and a half had called me gay? How could I explain to her that I wasn’t gay even though everyone thought I was? Would she still love me if I did? Even though I still had no idea I was gay - my desire for other boys pushed towards the back of my brain - I felt a deep shame for people thinking I was gay.
I brushed off her inquiries and told her that he just had issues and I didn’t know why. In the hours of the waiting room, I hoped that she wouldn’t ask for details as to why I was stabbed. It also happened to be her 30th birthday, which we spent in the emergency room. I strategized ways to tell her as little as possible while also not inviting any further questions. I nervously called my mom and told her that I was feeling ok but that some guy stabbed me in the head with a pencil. She confirmed my fears and told me to go to the emergency room. The fear in his face worried me and he told me that because I was bleeding so much, I should go to the nurse. I asked my fellow tuba-player sitting next to me to look at it. I thought I could just take care of it on my own and no one would have to find out about it. It was during lunch and I only had one more class left, which was band. My first inclination was to not tell anyone because I knew it would come to light that I was being harassed for being perceived to be gay. Then one day, during one of our almost daily scuffles, Daniel - who was at least half a foot taller than me - stabbed me in the head with a pencil. Kicks and punches, nothing I couldn’t fend off. The verbal threats eventually escalated to physical violence. They teased me and even made a Myspace page about me being a faggot. It was my imagined community at a time in my life where I had none.Ī few guys in my middle school thought I was too gay to like punk. Punk music and its rich history, spanning decades and transporting me to different cities like London and New York, became my haven. Being labeled the “gay kid,” in sixth grade made me a social pariah. I started with The Ramones, which instantly became my favorite, before moving to more hardcore bands like The Unseen or Charged GBH. In seventh grade, I fell in love with punk music. Before I was able to be curious about my crushes on other boys, I trained my brain to stop before ever going there. I didn’t know what it meant, but the scrutiny around my mannerisms taught me that it was wrong. I was 11 when people started calling me gay. You can read more questions and answers in our FAQ.I never came out to anyone - and the idea of coming out has always been foreign to me. Our customer support is eager to help you with any of your questions or requests at any time. We handle your data according to our strict Privacy Policy.
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