The police photographed my nose, my eye, my face and my arms. They documented the bruises. Then I saw my father arrive at the station in steel handcuffs. I will never forget that image, because it was the only time in all the years of abuse that I saw him arrested.
LGBT people wear invisible duct tape over our mouths every day -- not as a publicity stunt but as a mode a survival. We remain silent to avoid personal and familial rejection, to keep our jobs and our homes and to protect our physical safety. Our fear is real.
For the past two years I've worked on a project called "Homeless for the Holidays," interviewing and photographing homeless LGBT youth during the winter months as they sleep on the streets of NYC, so frankly, it infuriates me that our mayor would say that "no one is sleeping on the streets."
On Wednesday nights a group of trans and gender-nonconforming young adults makes a lengthy trek to the Broadway Youth Center in Lakeview. They gather for Trans Youth and Resource Advocacy (TYRA) meetings, a space for safety and discussion.
There are a lot of people working hard and spending a lot of money to make religion a hazard to LGBT people. Many other people of faith may deeply disagree with that treatment. However, when people of faith stand idly by, faith will continue to be a more of a hazard than a benefit.
As LGBT youth come out at younger ages, thousands are driven from their homes by rejecting families. And in a society that has grown increasingly unwilling to support a safety net for the most vulnerable, they are forced to endure homelessness and destitution.
Being homeless is one of the worst things can happen to someone. I know because I have been there. In 2004, at the age of 20, my circumstances changed dramatically, and I was made homeless one week before Christmas. I was devastated, and it was a dark period in my life.
Should Congress fail to reach a budget agreement and take action before New Year's Day, $54.7 billion in federal spending will be cut immediately. These arbitrary cuts to vital services would mean decreased access to mental health care, safe schools and shelters for LGBTQ youth.
As a queer kid from Raleigh, N.C., who's just spending a semester in NYC, I didn't think I'd end my semester by sitting VIP at the birthday of an infamous photographer while an equally infamous woman took the stage. The best part? It was a benefit for the Ali Forney Center.
On Dec. 15, in commemoration of five years out of the closet, I'm going to be raising money by running across the Brooklyn Bridge in five-inch heels. Why? Because Hurricane Sandy has left thousands of homeless LGBT youth in New York City out in the cold.
Some experience a lack of support from their loved ones, and others are even faced with homelessness. Here in New York the Ali Forney Center and the Hetrick-Martin Institute are invaluable resources to these kids, but both of these organizations were affected by Hurricane Sandy.
New York City's homeless youth are frequently faced with no option but to prostitute themselves in order to survive. And Mayor Bloomberg, despite promoting anti-prostitution efforts, perpetuates this situation by failing to provide nearly enough shelter beds for homeless youth.
A week after I was outed, my boyfriend disappeared. I came into contact with one of his friends and discovered that he'd come out to his parents a few months before he met me, and they'd kicked him out, so he'd begun living on the streets. He'd disappeared because he'd passed away.
As we worked to open the Ali Forney Center, I was haunted by the fact that the movement for LGBT equality did not address the needs of LGBT kids who are rejected by their families. LGBT kids who fell victim to family rejection were left to fend for themselves in the streets.
I wonder if the mayor understands what it means to put a kid on the street. Does he know that many will be forced to resort to prostitution? Does he know that 20 percent of the LGBT kids will become infected with HIV? Does he know that 60 percent will consider or attempt suicide?
Recently I published an open letter to Cardinal Dolan, the Archbishop of New York, calling his attention to the epidemic numbers of LGBT youth being rejected by their parents and forced into homelessness. Last week I received the following reply from Cardinal Dolan.
We know LGBT youth homelessness is not like the issues of marriage equality or the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," both more "palatable" not only to the public but to those who help fund and drive the agenda for LGBT equality. But we must do whatever we can to make it a priority.
We are thrilled that today, March 9, 2012, the Ruth Ellis Center will partner with the White House Office of Public Engagement and the Department of Housing and Urban Development to hold the first-ever LGBT Conference on Housing & Homelessness.
This past weekend over 20 churches and synagogues in New York City sounded the alarm on the LGBTQ youth homelessness crisis. We continue to demand that our government commit to our young people, and commit to funding safe shelter for our homeless.
Family rejection and its tragic consequences are hardly new problems. But for many years, providers and advocates for homeless LGBT youth have, for many reasons, focused on the youth themselves, giving little attention to their families.