All my life, I have been pretty good at fitting in. Or at least, maintaining the appearance of fitting in. I lived with this idea in my head that I could become anyone I wanted to – anyone who’s better, who’s not weird, who’s somehow perfect. I grew up in Ukraine. A country now wrought with pain, trying to figure out its place in the world – somewhere between its communist, conservative past, and a bold, progressive future. I think it’s ironic how, in a lot of ways, my story overlaps with that of my country.
When I have to remember my dad my mind stops at the local bus station on a hot humid night in my hometown. I remember my dad getting on a bus and setting off for the Capital of Colombia. He was leaving us, for good. I was there with my grandmother (his mother) Romelia, hoping he wouldn´t leave without me. Squeezing my hands and face against a huge window glass that was keeping me from going with him.
I know that for quite a lot of us, this tweet really hits close to home. Sad to say! In both instances, it seems our families have this unwholesome need to “save face” and protect the family name from being tarnished should word reach outsiders that “immorality” resides in the family. Again, if we look closely at the reasons behind such doings we will see that the common denominator is religion. In the former case, the family usually believes they cannot condone homosexuality as it is a sin. If your family happens to have a theologian, one can only brace themselves for endless, taxing and unsolicited lectures on this,
I was 14 the first time I thought killing myself would be easier than coming out. We had gone to a 60th birthday party for a family friend, the whole family. It was supposed to be a fun saturday night that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. But that night I heard my dad say something that has stuck with me for years. Looking back it was just a conversation between too drunk men that they both wouldn’t think about the next day and I should have viewed it as such. But I didn’t, I cried myself to sleep, wishing I could change who I was and thinking that it would be easier just to die than face who I was.
i am a 32 years old female . i was sexually abused when i was a child . actually i have been through different sexual abuses , as i remember starting at 10 years old till almost when i was 19 . since 19 to this moment nothing happened. these sexual abuses differs between touching my private parts and dirty words . and the reactions to them went gradually from not understanding anything , shocked to few tears, according to my age at each event and my sexual knowledge .
My name is Zac, I’m 24, identify as gay. I’ve known I was different as far back as I can remember. I was born and raised in a rural, lumber area of Northern Michigan.
I would like to start this off saying, that Substance abuse in the LGBT community is real and isn’t something to judge nor hate on because you don’t understand. Myself have struggled with substance abuse/addiction for 12 years. Half my life… It’s something a lot of people don’t or want to understand for various reasons. I can only only provide my own life experiences.
It was 1992 when I hit puberty. The Internet was just becoming a thing. The only exposure I had to homosexuality or even the concept of homosexuality was basically the TV show “Will and Grace” and perhaps reruns of “Three’s Company” – not that “Jack” was actually gay. I grew up in a very religiously conservative household and community.