Fox News blasted on the TV as I sat studying in my room, I heard my Dad yelling again at the screen, going on some inaudible tirade about immigration and communism. I walked out of my room into the kitchen and sat down for dinner. My family stared at each other and awkwardly made small conversation until my dad brought up some article about feminism; a topic I was passionate about. Our discussion quickly developed into a heated debate, so the table cleared and my dad eventually stormed off into his room. He retired to his room often after our “little talks”, reclusively brooding in depression and anger as if he was somehow losing me. See, my parents have always placed their worth in the successes of their children, and I had proven time and time again that I would be their one greatest failure; for my father, that meant that he was a failure too.
I walked up the stairs to use the office computer and sat down to my father’s Facebook page, still left open. I saw a message from my brother and clicked. At that moment, my heart stopped; any semblance of an image I had built for myself was destroyed, and I knew I had to grow up. My brother Jonathan was a southern Baptist preacher currently attending seminary, but Jonathan was also a millennial with a savvy set of tech skills including online stalking. In his escapades, Jonathan found my hidden profiles and screenshotted “evidence” of my sexuality, and shared them with my parents along with a heartfelt message suggesting that disowning me was “my only hope for salvation” and that I should be forced to deal with the consequences of my “choice”. The consequences, however, were such that I, a 17-year-old kid, felt an overwhelming sense of fear that sent me first down to my room to pack my bags, say goodbye to my brothers, and then stand at the edge of the back-porch balcony with my parent’s home phone in hand, pondering whether to call someone, or just jump.
In tears, I raised the phone up to my ear and called the Trevor Project, a suicide hotline for LGBT Youth in crisis. A middle-aged woman picked up the phone. Her voice was monotone and dry as she spoke those lifesaving words, “How can I help you?”. She didn’t want to be on the phone with me, but she was the only hope I had left. I explained my situation in a panic, confessed my thoughts of ending it all, and begged her for an answer, but what I got was not what I expected.
“Lie.”
She said, and explained that the only way I was going to get out of this situation was to be safe, and if that meant I needed to lie and fake it for just a few more months until I could get on my feet, that is what I would have to do. So, at that moment I decided to lie.
I spent years of my adolescence struggling with my sexuality, and I had finally accepted it! After so many sleepless nights of ‘praying the gay away’, summers spent at Christian camps meant to enforce traditional values, phone calls and sessions with pastors and ex-gay ministers, and journals full of entries describing my bitter self-loathing, I finally started to love myself enough to accept this part of me I had been fighting to deny my entire life. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do; lie. I confronted my brother about what he said, and informed him that I had miraculously changed. I sat my father down and explained the situation, then vowed to try my best to become straight. My father saw my insincerity and simply requested that I keep silent about the whole thing until I leave the house. I saw the light in his eyes diminish as he realized that, at least from his point of view, he had lost his daughter.
March 26, 2016, was the day my world collapsed, but I built a new one. I became motivated by observing the ignorance and fear around me, so I left home a week after my 18th birthday, worked for a year, and then I decided to pursue a career studying Psychology with a focus on sociology, and how gender and sexuality work with both. I learned the real meaning of love through people like my sister who helped me leave and now supports me regardless of our disagreements, and my partner, who has become my family and my new and beautiful home.
