The passing of numerous queer male teenagers across the United States of America has urged me to blog about the adversity that I myself have endured.
It's intended as a story of endurance and I'm optimistic that it will provide some healing for myself. I was reluctant to share these stories for fear that I would be perceived as someone with baggage or as someone who should be handled with care.
I was always picked on, called names, and bullied in school for being frail and having no interest in athletics.
I was physically assaulted outside in front of my high school after my father had dropped me off one day. As I crossed the street the boys standing in a group on the corner smoking catcalled to me and I responded by flipping them off; they ran after me calling me names and pushed me. I don't ever recall having hit pavement with such force before. The only emotion I remember having is anger. I decided from that day forward if it was possible for them to hurt me to that extent, that death was also possible and I refused to die ashamed of myself. From that moment on I decided to live my life as a proud queer individual, and to show this pride to others.
The second time I was assaulted was after high school, late one night walking to a convenience store during a party with a friend, who is actually heterosexual, we were walking back and without warning three individuals were on top of us punching and kicking, calling us names. I was bleeding from my nose and my winter coat was stolen.
I can't say that it gets better like so many can, but without these experiences I would not be the proud queer individual that I am today.
