Why is Pride important?
Trigger warning: includes topics of bullying, suicide, and other triggering topics.
Resource for LGBTQ Youth: The Trevor Project: Call 1-866-488-7386 or text START to 678-678
It’s not just a party; it’s a protest; it’s rising above trauma. Here is the story of how I almost didn’t make it…
I’ve been reflecting on how I want to talk about Pride in this context now that I’m being more visible and vulnerable publicly. I could be academic and talk about the reasons it’s important for the community as a whole. I could talk about the evolution of Pride. I could talk about my own personal story and views/experiences of Pride. I could simply list affirmations for my community. Instead I’m going to talk about little boy Matthew and his experience growing up as a way to express how life-saving or devastating words can be to child who is questioning their orientation, gender, or identity in general.
Little Matthew was the third son born in 1983 and went through 9 years (K-8) of Catholic school with a class of 60 kids. My two brothers were the sporty type and dad was involved in their sports. I was not sporty. I was the sensitive nerd who loved spirituality and had odd behaviors like being able to know the make and model of every car on the road (even from a long distance) to the absolute disbelief of my parents. I grew up mostly around a few female neighbor friends that I spent most of my summers with them, laughing, playing, and being creative. My grandma was a main caregiver as well while my parents worked and I’m not ashamed to say I was absolutely her favorite (it wasn’t a secret).
So here is where a child starts to learn things that are “not okay.” My grandma encouraged my spirituality with zeal, but said I should hide it from my dad because he doesn’t like that. My mom encouraged my love for the arts, but again dad doesn’t like that. Where I did connect with my dad was basketball. This is when it was fun to go to a Cavs game and it wasn’t celebrity worship and disgusting consumerism. Through my child lens, I had to hide parts of myself in front of certain people in order to earn love and acceptance from those who took care of me.
Around the age of 12 (about 7th grade) is when the bullying started. A few words or jokes at first from the boys then turned into harsher words, threats, and some, albeit mild, physical harm. I rarely reported anything as being a rat would make it worse for me, not to mention I was embarrassed and didn’t want to repeat the things that were said:
“You are such a girl.”
“Why don’t you play sports? Are you actually a girl? You have no penis.”
“You have no friends. No one likes you.”
“Just admit it. You are a f***ot. Why don’t you just die?”
What were the adults in the room doing? “Stop crying,” “You are too sensitive,” “That’s just how boys are,” “Well you shouldn’t hang out with girls so much,” “What do you expect when this is how you behave?” It was my fault. My feelings weren’t valid. I brought this on myself. Shame. Guilt. Embarrassment. Please don’t tell my parents. Don’t tell my grandma who loves me so much. I can’t lose that.
It was around that age the suicidal ideation started. I thought about it daily. When most kids worried about the next test, the next game, what they want to say when they see their friends, I was thinking about dying. Every morning those bus rides were torture. Now the younger grades were saying these things to me. The one or two friends I did have started to distance themselves. I wanted to die. I feared going to high school as I expected it to just get worse with more people. I had to tour the Catholic all-boys schools. We sat through an assembly at one of them and this boy’s name was called on the speaker and he walked towards the stage. He didn’t walk like other boys. The shouts came, “f***ot!” My heart sank and I remember my vision getting dark. I saw myself in that boy that just had to walk in front of the whole school and be humiliated with a slur. That was my future. All the boys I currently went to school with would just tell all the boys I didn’t know and they would never become friends with me. I was social poison.
Around this time, however, I did make quite a friend. He was one of the biggest kids in our class, hitting the growth spurt early. That’s true street cred with boys this age. I had no cred with my high pitch, girly voice. This kid found me amusing and we became friends. We made each other laugh and had similar interest in video games and movies. His physical presence alone kept other kids from trying it with me. I couldn’t understand why he wanted to be my friend, but truth is he just really didn’t care what other people thought. I didn’t ever tell him how grateful I was or how much that meant to me…that it really saved my life. Certainly he was a human angel sent to me.
So I chose public high school. This was my chance to get away from all the boys from Catholic school. With adolescence came my anxiety, my intense preoccupation with how I presented myself. I closed off, didn’t talk much, wore basic, black clothing, didn’t raise my hand, I didn’t join any clubs, I just wanted to survive for four years. Draw no attention to myself, don’t get to know people and I will be safe. For the most part high school was actually great. I wasn’t teased, no one cared, the bullying stopped. Thank you for that blessing!
However puberty also hit and I was still deluding myself that I liked girls. There was a moment about age 14 or 15 that a very attractive man smiled and said hello as he walked by. Again I felt my heart sink and vision going dark. It was like I could no longer deny it but I suppressed it further and that suicidal ideation was consuming my thoughts day and night. Eventually I said some scary things along the lines of “in case I don’t wake up tomorrow…” to my mom which put me in therapy and on SSRIs. Don’t get me wrong - SUPER grateful. It saved my life.
One Sunday in church at age 17, I was crying. I begged to be straight. Begged. When kids were concerned about getting a nice car, going to a movie, thinking about college, I was begging and bargaining with God to be straight. I don’t want this. Please I’ve been through enough I can’t do this my whole life, I can’t live a lie with a woman, and I can’t unalive myself and do that to my family. They won’t understand. No one understands. It was in this moment I received one of my earliest intuitive messages: a voice saying peacefully and almost like it was smiling, “it’s okay. You’re okay. You will always be okay.” I felt that through my whole body. It settled on every level of my existence. I felt so relieved. I felt like I shed generations and lifetimes of weight.
One step forward! Then I tell my therapist and she makes me tell my mom. Like are you effing kidding me? Give me a minute. But you know, therapists need to check boxes in their case notes within so many sessions for our beloved insurance companies. I didn’t think I could do it because I had heard the slurs from within the family too. Not directed at me, but noted and saved in the archives of my brain. I came out to my mom at age 17, sitting next to her bed, shaking with fear. She calmly replied, “okay. I still love you no matter what.” I received the permission I needed to be me and that I would be safe in this home. Her only concern was how people would treat me, knowing this was a cruel world we were in. Around this time the pendulum was swinging harshly to the conservative side and states were banning inclusive marriage (early 2000s). Just a few years earlier Matthew Shepard was beaten and tortured to death in a hate crime. A boy facing similar fears to me in a nearby suburb unalived himself. Did you know LGBTQ youth are more than FOUR times more likely to attempt suicide? The world was already cruel even when I wasn’t “out.” So F it. My coming out or not will not save me nor will it condemn me, but I started to think that my coming out might save others.
One thing they don’t tell you about coming out is that you do it for the rest of your life. Eventually you stop saying it because why should we? Straight and cisgender people don’t have to make this announcement to their families, so why should we? However, you come out in other ways: when people ask if I have a girlfriend, when I introduce my boyfriend to people, when I’m seen by relatives with my boyfriend in public, when I’m asking HR for domestic partnership insurance.
My point in telling this story is to give you insight into what a child is experiencing as LGBTQ. It’s not something we choose. We know we are different before puberty, before sexual attraction. I can’t imagine anyone, with all the things we experience in this world, would choose this. I’m proud of who I am, but I’m also quite discomfort-averse and prefer a quiet, cozy life. I don’t choose the drama. To be clear, I’m not the drama by being gay - the people who can’t handle this when it has zero impact on their daily lives are the drama.
I have heard so many stories that I will 100% admit that I did not have it as bad as SO many kids. The messages we receive early in life are seeds being planted. Those seeds are information about who will accept us in what situations. This is information about under what conditions we will be loved, protected, safe, nourished, and heard. I hope one day that’s unconditional for all. What are the adults in the room doing when bad things happen to kids? Are they like some of my teachers and monitors who blamed me for getting bullied? Are they bullying as well or worse? It’s not like our own government or churches are setting any kind of example about how to behave in front of children.
We are all little Matthew. All humans. We just need to be heard, validated, and shown that no matter how we identify, we will be loved. We want to hear that whatever we feel, whoever we fall in love with, however we express ourselves, that is all okay and you are there for us. And if not, prepare to lose the privilege of being in our lives because we may not be able to choose our sex at birth or who we are attracted to, but as adults we can choose who we see and speak to.
When you see Pride festivities, it is our celebration of survival, refusal to accept anything less than equality, celebration of our healing, and recognizing our resilience. It’s your reminder that we want LOVE to rule in all it’s beautiful diverse colors. Do you know someone in the LGBTQ community? Did you wish them a happy Pride? We don’t all celebrate it or can’t celebrate it, but it’s nice to hear that someone was thinking about us. “Happy Pride!” from someone we care about has a deeper message that you see us, all of us, and celebrate us.
Thriving adult Matthew is inviting you to work through your core wounds and limiting beliefs in coaching/energy healing sessions. Check out my offerings here and be sure to check out my free content on YouTube!
Happy Pride to all of you! All my love. xoxo
