The biggest dent in my relationship with my parents was that they never knew how much I struggled.
—
I came out twice. The first time it happened was when I was in the second or third grade. I remember that I had revealed this to an acquaintance at school out of spontaneity and out of jubilation for a self-discovery I had made. My excitement ebbed quicker than the discovery. The person I had admitted to about my sexuality rejected the idea and said, “No you’re not, and you’re not funny”. At that instant, I knew that I had a secret to keep from society in order to remain a part of society. It was not okay for me to be gay, and my secrecy would be buried deeper over the years.
I began living a progressively recluse lifestyle. The constant questioning of my sexuality and my denials weakened any remaining confidence that I possessed. Tears brought joy to my bullies and withdrawing from society became easy. “Are you gay?” The way they interrogated made me feel like I was being persecuted. I was running away and detaching from everyone who would question my sexuality until I had no one.
—
At school I was known to be shy and quiet. At home, I was a delinquent. My parents didn’t understand that home was my outlet for my troubled childhood. I would look at them in the eyes whenever they were happy (which was rare), wishing that they knew who I was.
—
Already ostracized, I was constantly harassed for how I dressed and for my ethnicity. I wore mostly sweats that had monochrome Disney characters imprinted on them. In addition, I carried around a purple-colored Barney’s book bag. Compounding and exacerbating the teasing was my inability to relate to anyone at school. My parents are both immigrants to the US, and being of Chinese decent gave others additional layers to peel away. I was greeted at school by peers who would clasp their palms together or get into a crouching tiger position and then proceed to utter phrases like ching chong, wang chung, and so forth. Since my parents could not afford extracurricular activities, I had nothing that related me to my peers.
During elementary school, lunch time was particularly dreadful. Moments before the lunch bell would ring, I became anxious and unnerved. I could feel my eyes pulse in sync with my heart beats. The feeling of entering the lunch room was close to the feeling of the time I almost drowned in the deeper end of a pool, panicky and short of breath. Everything from standing in the lunch line solo to walking towards a seat where no one would join me was painful. My palms were always cold and sweaty from the trepidations for what the bullies had planned that day. Sometimes I felt slimy spitballs projected onto the back of my neck, and at other times I was shoved. The most painful acts didn’t require any physical abuse. Hurtful words and social exclusion were enough to have me wish for death.
I was a child living in perpetual fear and distress. I could receive no help because I was reminded that the great majority of my fellow citizens would not acknowledge my sexuality. I could not contribute to the diversity that my own country prides itself. Like a hermit, I continued to withdraw.
—
Finally, in fifth grade, I received reassurance for my sexuality. Unfortunately, the reassurance did not come from friends, families, or mentors. The only reassurance I received was through an act of molestation from one of my mother’s employees. I was fine and comforted that someone had accepted me. For once I felt that someone knew who I was without judgment. I didn’t have to be labeled as gay—he understood…and took advantage of me. I do feel somewhat tainted by this incident, but I also feel empowered enough to speak so that other children in similar circumstances are not exploited.
—
I am surprised that I have made it this far with my childhood trauma. To cope with my rough past, I did not turn to drugs or alcohol, though I could have easily done so. I did not turn to friends because I didn’t quite have any. Instead, I turned to academics. Doing well in school offered me solace, helping me look earnestly forward for a better life.
I saw college as a haven. I attended New York University (NYU) primarily because I knew my sexuality would be considered “normal” there. I had made plans prior to matriculating at NYU to come out for the second time. The summer prior to freshman year, I had drafted mental images of how I would come out. I was met with many qualms and would pose many situations for myself. Should I inform my roommates first? Should I inform people right from the start? Is that necessary? Should I wait until I’m comfortable with any particular person before coming out to him or her? Would that then ruin the relationship that I had been building up? Should I rely on one particularly gossipy person to serve as a messenger of my sexuality?
I didn’t know what was appropriate. Regardless, I realized that it didn’t matter because at NYU I was accepted. No one questioned sexuality because it didn’t matter. Sexuality did not define anyone’s character or capability. I finally felt comfortable in my skin to move beyond my sexuality and towards my passions in the sciences. Thus, I transferred from NYU to Cornell University during sophomore year. At Cornell, I built a confidence beyond my own expectations, and I finally moved onward from the fear that I was once incarcerated by.
I will be graduated from Cornell this May 2011, summa cum laude. As a graduation speaker, I am as confident as I could be, and I owe it all to coming out. However, reflecting on my coming out story made me wonder if I actually came out. I still cope with issues faced by many when deciding whether or not to come out, marred by my disastrous past. When I feel that someone should know, I will reveal my sexuality. When someone feels comfortable enough to ask me about my sexuality, I am more than willing to tell them the truth. But when I feel that my revealing could harbor damage or malice, I refrain from revealing the truth (I still have not come out to my family yet). It is particularly difficult to come out to my family. Growing up around parents that made jocular comments about homosexuals is not the most encouraging. Moreover, my family expects me to marry a woman.
—
Since the Stonewall uprising in 1969, we have come a long way. I believe though that someday, the coming out of a celebrity will not be on front page news. Currently, the fact that people still have to actively come out rather than assume people are open-minded enough to accept that love is not always a two-way lane implies that being gay is a deviation from the norm. When our society finally learns to accept that there is no right or wrong way to love, I believe that there will be parity amongst us all. At that point, coming out will no longer be a revelation, and sexuality will no longer be a conversation topic. If our nation can see beyond our sexuality and if there was some way to make transparent and to foster dialogue among our citizens that love is not wrong, we would no longer have to persecute people for their sexuality. We will then be able to protect those most vulnerable—our youth. Our children will finally seek help when needed, uninhibited by fear of revealing their sexuality, thereby avoiding the exploitation I experienced.
I consider myself lucky for not having accepted a riskier lifestyle to rid the pain that I’ve accumulated in the past. I don’t believe others have been as lucky. I’ve heard of kids turning to drugs, alcohol, and prostitution. Parents, remember that your child is listening. If you create an open atmosphere, your children will approach you with their struggles, and together you can help your child fight for his or her right, his or her life.
The pigeons huddle around their scraps and peck away, dispersing smaller crumbs like fireworks on display
