Websters Dictionary defines the word Brave as: "Having or showing courage."
It further defines the word Courage as: "Mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty."
Being brave or courageous doesn't automatically mean you had to have fought in a war, been a police officer or other emergency responder. It doesn't mean you've been afflicted with some great adversity or disability and you've lived through it. Bravery and courage comes in many different forms and applies in so many walks of life and situations. A child who shows bravery at the doctor by not crying when they get a shot, or who sleeps in their bed for the first time alone showing courage from monsters under the bed. A woman diagnosed with breast cancer who was brave in the face of a terminal illness. A gay or lesbian individual who came out to their parents or friends or a group of people and bravely affirmed their identity and stood courageously amidst adversity and judgement.
With all of the recent comments about Caitlin Jenner and those who say she shouldn't be called brave or courageous, I say to you, unless you've been through it you have no room to say what is brave or courageous. For a person who has lived their entire lives for other people and as someone other than who they felt they were to make the decision to come out to the entire world and become who they have always felt they were is the very definition of brave and courage, the epitome in fact. If you think the decision was easy or the actual act of announcing it and revealing yourself as a completely new person doesn't take courage then you are very much mistaken. No one has indicated that Caitlin is greater than a soldier who has fought for our country and possibly lost their life in battle. Or a policeman or fireman who work so hard to protect our cities everyday. Her bravery and courage are completely different, but are nonetheless important and valid.
Most of the people making these comments have lived what society sees as a "normal" life and haven't had to face such adversity. Until you've had to experience the pain and heartache that one feels when going through such a transition and struggle you will never know the amount of courage and bravery it takes just to make it through each day with a smile on your face.
This has prompted me to sit down and write this post. You see, I'm not "normal" as society would define it, but I know that I am normal in my own right. And in my 35 years I have had to be brave and courageous at many points in my life despite the trials and tribulations that I faced. For your consideration I present, my story (the abridged version.)
Growing up I lived in a household of 2 brothers and 1 sister. 1 brother and my sister are older than I am with my sister and I being closer in age and as such we related more to one another and were probably closer to one another growing up than I was with my two brothers. Not that I wasn't close to them, but I definitely spent more time with my sister. We played a lot of pretend as little kids. House, dolls, doctor, the usual kid pretend scenarios. Sometimes my sister liked to experiment with me and dress me up, put make up on me, again typical kid stuff.
I vividly remember how much I loved girls. I had so many crushes as a kid. From summer camp flings to school classroom crushes. I remember one of my first heartbreaks was in the 4th grade. I had the biggest crush on a girl named Abby. Abby was an extraordinary girl. Pretty brown hair, green eyes, porcelain skin. A group of friends and I used to put on talent shows as kids and I did a magic act and used to have Abby as my assistant. Until I almost choked her with a trick wand during one show, then she didn't seem keen on helping me after that. (Go ahead and make your jokes with that one so we can continue the story.)
It was Valentines Day and I wore my Sunday best to school. I had my mom help me make out the standard school Valentine cards, got a stuffed bear, a box of chocolates and a single rose. Today was the day I asked Abby to be my valentine. When I finally got up the nerve to ask her I gave her my offerings and waited with bated breath for her reply. While the gifts were flattering she eventually declined my request to be my valentine. Devastated, I was determined that if I couldn't have her, she couldn't have my gifts so I took them back. Why should you get to eat chocolate? I was the one who was heartbroken, hell I needed that chocolate to drown my sorrows!
This was the first of many heartaches I would experience with girls growing up. For those that know me now, I'm sure it's tough to envision me being interested in girls, but I assure, I very much was. I had several girlfriends up until I became a teenager. My final fling with a girl came in my senior year of high school. It was also my first sexual encounter with a girl. As our relationship began, the sexual experiences were all one-sided. Meaning she would help me out, however I never returned the favor. (I was a 17 year old boy who had a girlfriend that did those sort of things, of course I took advantage. I wasn't stupid) Eventually she grew tired of this lop sided pleasure fest. One evening she bluntly asked me to return the favor. I, being ignorant to the fact of what exactly she wanted from me asked her what I should do. She expressed that she wanted me to "touch her down there." Woah.....that sounds pretty intimate. But not seeing a real way out of it, I decided to buck up and do it. So I took a deep breath, reached over and put my hand "down there" and almost immediately retracted my hand with the exclamation "EW IT'S WET!" She in much dismay replied 'It's supposed to be!" I made my decision then and there that this was definitely not for me. We broke up very shortly thereafter. Shocking, I know.
Let's rewind a few years if you don't mind.
Despite the infatuation I had with girls, I always felt that I wasn't like other boys. I was more effeminate and didn't like to do the usual boy things. Oh sure I played sports (briefly) out of obligation more than a desire to do so, but I was more interested in crafty, creative things, more of and indoor kind of boy. My older brother and I are 5 years apart in age. While today that is not a big gap, when you're 9 and he's 14, there isn't much you have in common and he was "too cool" for his little brother. My younger brother was 10 years my junior so I was "too cool" for him. Mind you I hold no grudge and I absolutely love my brothers and we are very close today. My point for this is that I sought out male relationships more purposeful whereas other boys seemed to just migrate together.
There was an older kid that took an interest in me and befriended me. Being nine years old, when an older kid offers to be your friend and hang out with you, it's like an honor. He's a teenager and he wants to hang out with me? It was exciting. He could teach me how to act mature and be cool and maybe get the girls! (Spoiler alert, I didn't get the girls.) We had a great deal of fun together. His brother and my brother wrestled on the same team and so we hung out at all of the wrestling tournaments and we would have sleepovers at one anothers houses. We'd "camp out" in the bedroom and build sheet forts to play in. We would run around in the woods and pretend we were hunting. The typical things that I assumed all boys did together.
One night while staying at his home, we were in his bedroom hiding out in a sheet fort. He asked if I wanted to play a game. Of course I did! The game he explained would go as follows: He had a jar of quarters. He would ask me to do a certain task and every time I did one, he'd give me a quarter. Not sure what the tasks were I blindly agreed at the thought of making some money. He took off his shirt and for my first task, he asked me to touch his chest. That seemed odd, but I complied. He offered the reward, a quarter. That was easy. He continued by taking off his shorts and stood in front of me in his underwear. Still unsure where this was heading he proceeded to ask me to touch his crotch. Assuming this was some sort of "boys truth or dare" type of game, I begrudgingly complied. Quarter. He continued to take off his underwear. Standing there naked he tasked me with touching his boy parts (I don't want to be graphic here and you're a grown up so deal with it.) At this point I remember shaking from nerves not feeling really comfortable with what was happening and feeling that it wasn't normal, although he, sensing my nerves assured me this was normal. So I touched him. Quarter. Hoping it was done I stood there with my 3 quarters wondering what was next. For the next task he offered 4 quarters. He asked that I put my mouth on it for a minute. I knew that wasn't normal and had never experienced anything like that. But he was older and I was a naive child, ignorant to how teenage boys acted. Maybe he was right. Maybe this is what older boys do together. So I complied. After that he put his clothes back on. The game was over. At least for that time.
This "game" continued for nearly two years. Each time got more and more intimate. Each time he assured me that it was normal and it was OK. When I turned 11 I finally found my voice and took a stand that I wasn't going to continue with the game and that I was not comfortable playing the game anymore. We eventually stopped hanging out altogether and I haven't seen him since.
As I got older I faced more adversity as boys noticed my effeminate nature and could tell that I was "different". We lived in a small town where anything that wasn't "normal" was not welcome and people let you know it. I dealt with name calling. "Faggot!" "Queer!" "Homo!" All of the typical slurs. I got punched at least once a day. Kids would take my back pack on the bus and dump it on the floor. I got shoved into my locker. The popular kids would mock me and laugh at me. It was a hellish time in my childhood. High school was the absolute worst.
When I entered high school, I started to "notice" boys more. They became more intriguing to me. There was a draw, an air of fascination and attraction. I found myself staring at the athletes during gym class as I sat on the sidelines. I kept a journal where I wrote notes about each boy that I liked and what I liked about him. These simple thoughts quickly became an obsession as I found myself almost lusting after them. Picturing myself in various sexual scenarios with them. Wanting to express my feelings. On the contrary I still wasn't sure what the feelings were. Sure I knew what it meant to be gay, but to this point I had been chasing girls. Why was I suddenly attracted to boys?
I pause here to say, please don't try to backtrack and make a connection to my lack of male figures growing up and my first sexual encounter being with an older boy who took advantage of my ignorance and naivety. I wasn't "made" gay by these circumstances. The inclinations were always there I just never had been in a situation previously to really feel those inclinations or realize what they meant.
I digress. The kids in high school caught on to me, or so it seemed. Making up stories about catching me masturbating in class while looking at boys (which never happened). My whole freshmen year culminated with the story of the year. A group of the popular kids got together and concocted a story that I had written a letter to the all star senior quarterback of the football team, expressing my love for him and that I wanted to have sex with him and how much I dreamed about it. Truth be told he wasn't all that cute and wasn't even in my journal of boys that I really did dream about. Nonetheless the story went around school and I couldn't turn a corner without snickering or someone making a comment about this. It got so bad that I had to go to the school counselor to seek help with how to deal with it. The guy never could produce the letter. His mom was a teacher at the school as well. The counselor suggested I write a letter to his mom explaining the situation and that if he did not rectify the situation by confirming that the story was not true that we could press sexual harassment charges against him. She quickly reacted and assured me that it would not continue. But you can't undo that kind of damage in high school. Those kids would never forget what they were told. But most of the instigators did eventually graduate and life returned to what would be "normal" for the rest of my time there.
After graduation and turning 18, having experienced the one sexual encounter with a girl that (if you remember) did not end well. I finally admitted to myself that I liked boys, I wanted to be with boys, I was sexually attracted to boys. Yes, I was gay.
The rest of the story is really just a mish mosh of experiences and stories that need not be told at this time. Over the coming years I would come out to my sister, my best friends and their mom and eventually my own mother. Most people took it well and confirmed with me that they knew I was gay and were just waiting for me to realize it. My mother didn't take it quite as well. Mind you, living in a small town, she was concerned with how people would perceive it, how I would be treated etc. What she didn't necessarily know is that I'd already endured all of it. I'd been called every name, beaten up, neglected, rejected, outcast, everything they could throw at me I faced it and had made it through. It didn't matter anymore what anyone thought about it. This was who I was and I was going to be myself despite what anyone else had to say about it. (I'm ecstatic to tell you that today my mother and I are very close and she is very comfortable with my lifestyle and my partner and it is a non-issue now.)
I'm proud of my sexuality. As strange as that sounds to most people. I'm not proud that I like boys, because that is silly. I'm proud to be a part of such a community of people who through so many years have faced the most extreme of situations. They've been jailed, beaten, killed, rejected all because of who they loved. Yet they continued to be who they knew they were. They never denied it, they never took it back. They've pressed onward through the years, fighting bravely and courageously against the tide of society and pushing aside the standard definitions of what others said was normal. They paved the way for me to be able to be who I am and not be afraid the express it. That's what makes me proud.
I don't tell you all of these things to garner sympathy or any reaction of awe or shock for what I have endured during my lifetime. (Trust that there are several therapists out there who have seen me through all of this and more! I've let it all go and it does not have a hold on me any longer.) I know and assure you that hundreds of thousands if not millions of people have endured so much worse, including losing their life fighting for what they believed in. Not just gay people, but people in general who have been brave and courageous standing up for their rights and fighting for their beliefs. I don't claim to have had it worse than anyone. I don't regret anything I have experienced in my life because it has all made me who I am today and has given me the strength to face such trials head on and know that I will survive the rough times. It does get better. It did get better. It is better.
I felt compelled to share my story to say that I had to be brave and hold fast to my courage as I got beat up every day and never fought back. I had to be brave and courageous to walk into that school everyday with a smile on my face despite the names kids would yell at me, or being shoved into my locker and made to feel inferior to those kids who weren't "a freak" like me. It took courage to finally admit to myself and to others who I truly was and to be comfortable and confident in my own skin despite what anyone else thought. Millions of gay and lesbian people around the world can relate to this courage and bravery as they too have endured and continued being brave despite their hardships.
I'm here today a strong person, happy with who I am. I will soon marry the man of my dreams and I admit I never would have dreamed in my lifetime I would ever get to have that experience. I didn't survive by being a coward. I didn't survive by giving up and giving in. I survived by being brave and knowing that I would be OK. If I could go back to that nine year old little boy I would tell him that even though right now it seems things are out of sorts and you aren't sure what life is doing, you will be OK. You will be brave you will find your courage and your voice and you will stand up and be strong and become an amazing person, despite what you are facing now.
So to those of you who say that Caitlin Jenner isn't brave or isn't courageous, please pardon my language, but FORGET YOU! You don't know what torture and pain and heartache she has lived with and had to face. The ridicule and rejection and sorrow you experience living a life outside of who you truly are. Dealing with the slurs and bullying and ignorance from those who lash out at you because they don't like you or don't understand you. You don't have to understand me. You don't have to like me. This decision isn't for you to make. This is my life and I am going to live it how I want. You don't have to agree with it, but don't say that I am not normal or that I am a freak simply because you are an ignorant and insensitive bastard who was clearly not raised with any tact or respect for others. Whether you believe homosexuality is wrong or you think transgender people are freaks, welcome to America you are entitled to your thoughts and opinions but until you've experienced what I've experienced, until you've been sexually mistreated, bullied, picked on, beat up and made to feel like you aren't worth living, and yet you stand strong, you don't get to tell me that I'm not brave. I am the definition of brave, indeed the epitome of the very word.
Did I lose a limb in war? Did I fight on the front lines for my country? No, but I fought my own war my own private battle every single day of my life. Lucky you that you were born privileged and "normal". I still fight every day for my rights and acceptance in this world and it takes every ounce of bravery and courage that I can muster to smile, walk down the street with my head held high and say to myself, "I'm OK. I am a person and I matter."
If you are struggling or feel like things seem hopeless, stay strong. Be brave. Find your courage within and know that you can do it. You can make it through the storm and you will be stronger and better because of it.
To Caitlin Jenner - You are brave. You are courageous. You are strong. Be you and don't worry about those who seek to bring you down. Keep fighting and know you matter and you are loved.
And that, quite frankly, is all that I have to say about that.
Keep your head up.
Keith
Fascinating!
ReplyDeleteFascinating!
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