This is a teen-written article from our friends at Youth Communication, a nonprofit organization that helps marginalized youth develop their full potential through reading and writing.
A guidance counselor outed me to my mother
It was a sunny winter afternoon and I was heading to after-school drama club when I heard my phone ring. “Come home, now!” my mom yelled when I picked up. Rushing home quickly, I thought, “Did someone die?” When I got into my building, I bounded up the stairs. The moment my mom opened the door, I realized by the disappointed expression on her face I was in deep trouble.
When I entered the living room, I saw my whole family there. I felt like I was at an intervention. I sat down on the couch. There was an awkward silence in the room.
“I went to your school today and I talked to your guidance counselor,” my mom said.
For a moment, I was relieved that no one in my family was dead. But I could tell by her tone I had done something
“She told me you were gay, and that you had sexual relations with another boy.”
I was shocked! I didn’t know how my guidance counselor found out about my sexual encounter. At that moment, I felt as if my world came crashing down onto me. I was afraid that my mom would kick me out the house. All of a sudden, the environment of my living room went from a quiescent, comforting area to a harsh, judgmental arena.
“You know, it’s a sin to be gay!” my aunt yelled. “The Bible doesn’t accept homosexuality!”
“I don’t want a faggot for a brother! What will people say about me?” my brother screamed.
“Society makes people believe that being gay is a new trend. But, it’s not! You will go to hell! I will never have a son as a faggot!” bellowed my mom as she started to cry.
Punished for Being Me
I ran into the bathroom crying. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve to be treated so cruelly by my family. They made me feel as if I wasn’t a part of the family by calling me names like faggot and sissy. I knew deep inside they still loved me, but they believed that my being gay would belie their Christian codes of conduct.
Later that night, my mom took away all of my electronic devices and put me on punishment. I didn’t understand how that would change my mind about being gay. I didn’t choose to be gay. As a young boy, I always had a copious interest in boys. That night, when I went to sleep, I asked God to turn me straight.
My mother had always been overprotective but now she was even more so. I don’t want to say she was all up in my business but suddenly she paid more attention to who I spent time with. If I hung out with friends, she would call the parents to make sure that’s what I was really doing.
Over the next few months, a friend I thought I could trust told a few people I was gay and soon everyone in my school found out. Other people I thought were friends began to scream gay slurs at me as I walked to class, on my way home, and even on Facebook. No one was there for me. I started cutting my wrist. I didn’t want to live anymore. Was I supposed to conform to the “normal” way of life?
Reprinted with permission from Youth Communication.