Craig Fredrickson, California

I have always been attracted to guys. I grew up in Fresno, California. I never thought of myself as “gay”, not until I moved to Collierville, Tennessee in 1992 when my parents moved there. While attending college at Memphis State I started to realize I was gay, but never really considered coming out at that time since I grew up in the eighties, and it was not something you wanted to be. After college in 1997 I moved to Little Rock, Arkansas – it was my first time being on my own. I decided that I would no longer hide it, but I wasn’t going to shout it out either.

In January of 2001 I moved to Cleveland, Ohio for work. While there I again decided that I wouldn’t hide it, but I also wasn’t going to let it rule my life. I meet a friend from work, and we hung out all the time. I knew he was straight, but always worried what he would think if he found out I was gay, so again I kept it to myself.

I didn’t mention anything to him. We just hung out - went to movies, went to bars with other co-workers. We became good friends in the process. About a year later we took a weekend off to go to his hometown for a friend’s bonfire party and just to get out of town for a little while. The first night we were there we stayed at his dad’s house with his younger brothers. His youngest brother was making comments all night like “that’s so gay,” “Don’t be so queer” and other typical insults. None directed at me, but towards some of his friends.

The next day while we were hanging with a couple of his female friends the subject kind of came up – the discussion of gay things. One of the women asked me if I was gay rather straight forward, and I just said “yes” not even thinking about it. Then my friend got up and went outside. I became worried. I started thinking he was going to hate me, or that he was going to be upset that I hadn’t told him. When I went outside to talk with him I was relieved to see that he was not angry or offended.

“Why didn’t you just say so? I knew the first time that we went out for a drink and you ordered a wine cooler; gay guys don’t drink beer.”

I was shocked by the fact that he had known for over a year and was totally cool with it. I was also surprised to find that he thought that all gay guys dislike drinking beer, but that is neither here nor there. Since then our friendship became stronger and we are still very close, even now that I am now living in Arkansas again and he is still living in Ohio.

Hollis Profit, Arkansas

I had never really felt out of place in straight society. I had a series of (rather effeminate) boyfriends throughout high school, and I was comfortable with this. However, I had always experienced an undeniable attraction to women, and as soon as I got to college, I decided to act on it. I came out to my friends the minute I got to college.

I returned home one weekend soon after, unsure of whether I was going to tell my mother. I was telling her about my two gay friends in college who wanted to go to seminary, easing her in to the fact that I had gay friends in college, and you can be gay and Christian at the same time.

She cut right to the chase: "Hollis, would you ever consider dating a girl?"

"I sort of...am."

She started crying. I remember sitting on the couch for what seemed like an eternity, just wanting the moment to be over. I went somewhere else in my head because the situation was too difficult to bear. I started smiling to myself, from wherever I was. I was suddenly snapped back into reality by her voice. 

"Do you think this is FUNNY?"

I will never forgive myself for disrespecting my mother like that. She made it clear that she still loved me unconditionally. She left the note that she had read at my high school graduation on my pillow that night; it was about all the things she had learned from me as her daughter. I do appreciate that she still wants to be a part of my life, and loves me as a person rather than who she wants me to be. But the whole "love the sinner, hate the sin" thing has been so painful and confusing for us. I know that she could reconcile my sexuality with her faith if she just tried.

Robert Harper, Arkansas

In school I was always made fun of for being “gay” or “queer,” even before I knew what those words meant. I remember one day in church, after I started going to the youth group, I learned what the words meant. An older boy yelled at me and called me queer, and I broke down and started crying. I can’t explain the emotions that I felt at that exact moment, but it felt like a mixture of fear, anger and hate. But mostly what I felt was fear.

I was scared of being found out. I was angry at him for making face the thing that I was trying to hide. I hated the way that what he said made me feel. And still more fear about what would happen to me. That moment defined how I would act for the rest of my years in middle school. I was the quiet kid in the back, often times with my nose in a book, who never spoke up and did his best not to be noticed. I floated around the school like a ghost.

However, things began to change my freshman year of high school. After the first semester my bipolar sister made some accusations against another member of our family. As a result I ended up getting shuffled around in the foster care system for a year. Before my aunt got custody of me I stayed at two different places. The first was a residential type place for kids called Vera Loyd. It was there that I had my first experience with a guy, his name was Woody. After that I decided to be true to myself, but not openly or in public. Not yet. I just wasn’t ready. 

While at my aunt’s I got online and starting looking for answers to the questions that I had. I wanted to know what the feelings I had been suppressing for so long meant. I wanted to know if there were others like me. Eventually my aunt found out about the websites I was visiting and decided to send me to a therapist. In two days I was able to convince the therapist that I was a “normal heterosexual boy” and end the therapy. After a while I moved in with my grandparents and continued living a quiet life of self oppression.

Brandyn Smith, Texas

My entire life I have dealt with being different. Being half black and being totally gay all in the same body is naturally grounds for torment and ridicule. But as my mother would later tell me, “it takes a very strong person to be gay.”

My mother and I have always had a pretty close relationship. I always knew that I could tell her anything and not fear what she would say. But when I accepted myself for who I was, I still feared the worst. All of my friends knew; my kid sister knew; all that was left was to tell my mother. 

In my heart I was certain that she already knew. Mothers always do. But uttering the words, “I’m gay,” was harder than I could imagine. I remember trying to drop hints to her, and in turn she also had hints of her own. The most poignant one to me was exactly one week before I announced my “gayocity” to my mother. We were watching Lifetime and the movie was about a seaman who tells his mother several times that he’s gay, but she never believes him. He goes to the Navy, meets a guy, falls in love and records everything they do into journal. Eventually he is found out, but his lover is not. The lover then has to watch as they beat him and throw him overboard for being a “fag.” The Navy tells the mother it was freak accident and gives his personal belongings to her. As she reads the journal she discovers that her only son was gay and sets out to prove that he was murdered. In the end she succeeds.

After the movie, my mother said, “That would be a horrible way to find out. I would want to know before he died so that I could love and accept him for who he really is.” And in that moment I knew I could tell her.