When I was a teenager, I wondered why I was shy and quiet. I believed that I was most likely born an introvert and that nurture played a factor in forming my personality. When I was a child, about 6 years old or so, I liked playing with my cousin’s dolls whenever we visited her house. I enjoyed dressing the dolls up in their outfits and combing their hair. I also wanted a pink Easy Bake oven as I wanted to make cute, little pastries and cakes. Of course, I never asked my parents for one and made sure to play with the dolls discreetly as I knew that it wasn’t normal for boys to want to play with dolls.
I am not 100% sure where I first learned this. Possibly through my parents and family members. Definitely through commercials on TV that showed girls playing with dolls and baking whereas boys would play with Hot Wheels and action figures. Thus, I knew that I was different due to my affinity for girl-targeted toys. As a result, I withdrew into myself. I kept to myself so that other people would not know that I was different.
When I was young, it was easy to make friends. However, as I grew up, being shy and quiet affected how I made friends, especially in high school and university. People would think that I was different, not because I was gay (which I was able to hide), but because I was quiet. Keeping to myself affected my ability to socialize, resulting in a decline in my social skills. I was able to talk to people and get along with them, but would not be able to hold a conversation without there being at least one awkward silence. During these silences, my mind would blank and I would not be able to think of topics to talk about. Even if I really did like talking to the person, my voice would get caught in my throat and the silence would extend until one of us breaks the ice.
I’ve always known that I was different growing up. As a child, I was always interested in high heels, makeup, women’s fashion & beauty magazines, dolls, and girl-targeted TV shows (like Sailor Moon, The Winx Club, and Cardcaptors). It was not until I was 12 years old and transferred to a new school that I began to question my sexual orientation. It was at this new school where I encountered my first male crush, Eliott, an attractive, popular jock who was in the year above me. He was highly desired as I overheard many girls gushing about him. I was enamored by him too. He was beautiful and I would always sneak glances at him whenever he was near. Eliott sometimes interacted with my younger brother because they were both in the intramural floor hockey league and played ice hockey. Whenever I saw them interacting with one another, I would pay my brother to tell me what Eliott talked to him about. Of course, I never told my brother that I liked Eliott. He probably assumed that I was interested in their conversations because Eliott was popular.
I was actually able to interact with Eliott too. One afternoon, I left the bathroom stall and walked over to the sink. Eliott was at the other sink washing his hands. I had a small bag of Cheetos on me which I placed on the counter before proceeding to use the sink.
In my peripheral vision, I could see Eliott eye the bag of chips. He asked, “Can I have your chips?”
“No,” I replied sternly, keeping my head down. I acted like I didn’t want to talk to him, but in reality, I was nervous.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because,” I quipped. He then walked over to the door to use the hand dryer. After washing my hands and wiping it on my pants, I grabbed the bag of chips, walked over to the door and handed him the chips as I was leaving the bathroom.
“Thank,” he said.
“Hmph,” I replied, still with my eyes down.
Being raised Catholic, I was taught that ‘gay’ was bad. I saw so many films and TV shows where the villains were depicted as being evil and deviant due to their shared characteristic of being effete and effeminate. With shining examples like The Little Mermaid’s Ursula, The Lion King’s Scar, Aladdin’s Jafar, The Powerpuff Girls’ HIM and Pokémon’s James of Team Rocket, it’s no wonder that many LGBT children, including myself, struggled to accept ourselves.
I knew that my feelings weren’t normal. Society and religion told me so. I wrestled with my feelings a lot during this time. I often prayed at night, asking God to make me straight. I was disgusted with myself. This disgust did a number on my self-esteem and confidence. I tried not to think about my sexual orientation too much at this time, believing that if I didn’t think about it, these abnormal feelings would go away. I was always in denial, saying that I was in a phase or that I was bisexual, for several years. During high school, I had both male and female crushes, which furthered my thought that I was bisexual. I always thought that I was bisexual until I was about 16 years old.
With the help of the television show, Glee, specifically a character who was questioning her attraction, I was able to understand that sexual orientation cannot be determined by crushes. It can only be determined by who you fall in love with and who you can see yourself marrying. After thinking about this, I realized that I could not see myself with a girl. It didn’t feel natural. I was able to imagine myself with a boy though as I felt in my heart that being with a boy felt right. Even though I have had both female and male crushes, the first person who I fell in love with was a boy. I was 16 years old when I came to terms with the fact that I was gay and began to learn to accept myself. I no longer prayed or believed in God. Tons of homophobes used religion as the basis for their hate rhetoric. Why would I want to associate myself with a belief system that made me feel bad about myself?
Although I’ve accepted that I was gay, I was still in the closest and have yet to come out to anyone. I felt that I would never be able to come out to my family. My parents assume that I am straight but honestly I am surprised that they have not questioned my sexual orientation. They know that as a child, I was interested in women’s fashion & beauty magazines and girl-targeted TV shows. Mother often asked me for my opinion on the outfits that she would try on at home as she knew that I was fashion-minded. I guess they thought that my affinity towards those female-targeted mediums was just a phase and that I got over it. Of course, I never did get over it. I just got better at hiding my affinity for them.
I also censored my movements so that people wouldn’t know that I was gay. To constantly make sure that the gestures you make and the way you walk didn’t give off the impression that you were gay was absolutely exhausting and draining. It’s made me permanently anxious and paranoid. Of course, there were times when I would slip up. Sometimes when talking, I would automatically use exaggerated hand gestures that could be considered graceful and feminine. I would always catch myself doing it, stop talking and then immediately clasp my hands together on my lap, chastising myself for being so reckless and hoping that I didn’t give off the impression that I was gay.
Whenever Father saw me standing with one of my knees bent, he would say, “Stand up straight. Don’t bend your knee like a girl.”
“Hmph,” I replied while I straightened out my bent knee. This happened quite often so now, whenever he was near, I would automatically stand up straight.
One time, a friend remarked, “You look gay when you run.” I was surprised as I didn’t know that running could look gay. From then on, I would always make sure that whenever I ran, my upper body would be like a robot; stiff so as to not give an indication of ‘gayness.’
Fearing that my walking was also ‘gay.’ I asked the same friend, “Is the way I walk gay?” He told me to walk ahead of him so that he could see.
“No, it’s not,” he replied. I breathed a sigh of relief. If I had to adjust my walking, that would be hard since I walked everywhere. Running, on the other hand, I rarely did anyways. I preferred fast-walking.
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