It Gets Better (25 page)

We are all created in God's image—all genders, all sexual orientations, all races, all sizes—all of us. All different types of kids are bullied, but the bullying is the same. Cowards who are full of shame and rage take it out on those of us who are different: smaller, smarter, differently abled, immigrants, gay-looking kids, girls who aren't cheerleader types, kids with accents, kids with two moms, two dads, kids with a mentally ill parents, and the list goes on and on and on. But we are all created in God's image,
betzelem Elohim barah otam
. Anyone who says differently is
mechalel HaShem,
blaspheming God's name.

I know this message might not be enough. When I was younger and living in the closet, I thought that I was the only living lesbian on the planet. I even went to a psychiatrist to make me straight. We've come a long way since I was your age, and we still have so far to go.

If you are feeling this kind of hurt, I ask you to hold on. You are not alone. You are sacred, and you are beautiful, and there are people who care about you. I am one of them. So are the over eight hundred members of CBST, the world's largest synagogue for people of every sexual orientation and gender identity. We may not be in the same state right now, or even in the same country, but we care about you and there are communities and people like ours all over the world. E-mail me if you are feeling alone. I will work with you to get you the support you want. Find other kids who are being marginalized for who they are. Pray, knowing that God is on your side, and that God thinks you are fabulous.

And a word to the bullies out there, I know that most people who bully others for being gay or looking gay are often struggling with their own feelings of isolation, loneliness, and often their own sexualities. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Contact me to talk. And if you don't agree, contact me to bully me. I'm a lesbian and I'd rather you bully me than a thirteen-year-old kid.

We are all created in God's image. Now let's live up to it.

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

 

 

 

 

E
veryone's talking to young gay people who have been bullied in school, trying to explain to them that things get better, and to hang in there, but I want to have a little chat with the bullies.

I'm twenty-five, so let's go back ten years, to when I was a fifteen-year-old high school kid. I was quite an artistic teenager and I got picked on for being gay. I'd get pushed and shoved and called “fag.” It seems silly now to think that being called a fag would be that upsetting but, you know, when you're fifteen, school is your whole world. So it really did hurt. I remember one time someone had graffitied a bench at school, writing vicious things about me on it. And another time, someone spat at me. There were some pretty awful, pretty hard times.

But here we are ten years later. Let me just put it this way: I live in a great city, have a great job, make a good living; life is good. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't checked out those same bullies on Facebook to see what kind of lives they were living today. I'm happy to say they look like losers. The thing about these people is that no one is born homophobic, no one is born racist. These ideas are given to them by their parents or religious fanatics, or other negative role models, but when they take on those prejudices and hatreds as their own, it doesn't make for a good, happy person, or a happy life.

Those guys that made fun of me in school? They are pretty much all still living in the same hick town, and they've all got crappy jobs, and they look like awful. They look old. They look like they've had long, miserable lives already. I am sure there are many reasons why people's lives turn out this way. But I can't help but think that harboring hatred, and spending a lot of your time and energy when you're in school making someone else's life hell, can't be good for you.

You know how people always say bullies are really the ones that are insecure? Like they'll find someone weak in a pack to make fun of so they feel better about themselves, and when you're fifteen you think, “Oh, that's just something old people say.” But I'm old now, and I'm telling you it's true!

If you were completely content and happy with yourself as a person, then you would have no reason to try to bring other people down. When you're calling someone a fag and giving him hell, what are you trying to achieve exactly? What good is this doing you? What is this giving you? You might think it's funny, but I'm betting it's probably got a lot more to do with your own feelings of inadequacy, something deep down inside you, something that you're probably not even aware of yet.

The point is, bully, you might have a couple of pin-headed minions hanging around you, telling you that you're cool and funny, but you're really not. There's not some glamorous, amazing life ahead for you. There is only one direction for people like you and that is down. You are a loser and you always will be. But the world needs assholes, and bullies, and haters like you to make the rest of us shine. Enjoy the power you think you have now, because I promise you it's not going to last. Soon enough, high school will end, and the people you torment will be free of you. But you're stuck with you forever, and you deserve it. Fuck you. Okay bye.

LOS ANGELES, CA

 

 

 

 

T
o put it simply, high school really, really sucked. I went to a small school in Honolulu. There were only about fifty some kids in my graduating class. As a junior and a senior, I was trying to figure out who I was, not only in terms of my sexuality but as an individual. I didn't receive the warmest reception. Some people were really awesome, and for that I'm really grateful, because I don't know if I would have survived high school without them. But, in general, it was a hostile environment.

People were always talking behind my back, calling me a dyke, calling me a lesbian. Some people didn't want to interact with me because I was gay. Some people assumed that because I'm gay, I liked all girls. All of this, and other ridiculous stuff, made it really difficult for me to feel comfortable being myself in high school.

One day during my junior year, I got called into the office in the middle of class. I thought that maybe my mom had left me a message, but it turned out the counselor wanted to speak to me. So we sat down and we made small talk for a little while, and then she said, “You know, there are these rumors going around that you're gay. You're not gay, are you?” She didn't say it in an accepting tone, like “If you're gay, it's okay. This is a safe environment.” No, she said it in a way that conveys the message, “You'd better not be gay. Do not tell me that you're gay.”

I was shocked. Before I could even process the question properly, before I could even really answer, I just flat-out denied it. But she continued asking me, “Are you gay? Are you gay? Are you gay with your friend, I heard she's gay, too.” And I kept denying it. “I'm not gay, my friend's not gay. We're not gay together. None of us are gay.” Finally, she just looked and me and said, “Well, I heard she's a slut.” I didn't know what to say to that.

Had this conversation happened today, it would have gone so much differently. I would have stood up for myself. I would have stood up for my friend. But then, I was only fifteen years old, and I was talking to someone I was supposed to be able to confide in. After all, she was an authority figure that I was supposed to feel safe with. And, in that one moment, she destroyed all the faith I had in the system. From then on, I knew I really couldn't be myself in high school.

She sent me back to class because I didn't tell her what she needed to hear, I guess. It took every ounce of will in my body to hold it together, and I didn't even succeed at that. I went back to my desk and cried. I didn't tell anybody what happened, not even my friends, until way after graduation. I was really embarrassed and scared. And after that, I was just counting the minutes until the end of high school.

I am really glad that I held on, though, because it gets better. It gets so much better. Those people who treat you like crap now—in a few years, they're not going to matter. You're going to meet people who love and accept you for who you are. If you're feeling alone, I'm going to remind you that you're not. Talk to your friends. Talk to your family about it if you can. Talk to a counselor . . . maybe not so much in my case, because that didn't go very well . . . but talk to somebody. I remember that when I was in high school, I talked to a lot of people online and they were a really great support system for me. In college, I met some amazing individuals and I recently moved to Los Angeles to pursue my dreams as a fiction writer. Life has been a struggle, but it's a good fight. One worth sticking around for. It truly, truly gets better. It really, really does.

AOTEAROA, NEW ZEALAND

 

 

 

 

I
'm a gay man and I'm a member of Parliament for the Green Party in New Zealand.

I remember being a teenager and starting to realize that I was different from my friends. It took me a long time to acknowledge to myself that I was gay. And it took even longer to tell other people about it. Fitting in and seeming like everyone else can feel really important, especially when you're young. It certainly was for me. I often felt isolated, scared, and depressed by the anti-gay bullying and abuse I was exposed to—but also by the jokes and anti-gay culture that was around me in the boy's school I attended. It all left me feeling pretty bad.

That's a long time ago now, though. And today, I'm happy. I'm a well-adjusted, adult gay man. And I have a great life. I have a relationship with my partner; we've been together for over twenty-five years now, going strong. I've got a great adult son. And I've had a career that's been really interesting and now has me in Parliament.

And so part of my message to you is, even though things might seem bad at that moment, it gets better. It gets better.

Perhaps the most important thing I want to say about my life now is that I don't hide being gay from anyone. It's very, very seldom that I personally encounter any anti-gay discrimination or abuse. So for every one of you out there who's feeling like I did when I was a teenager—scared, isolated—my message to you is this: If I could, I would love to be able to reach out to you, and be able to show you the fantastic future that awaits you. I can't do that. So instead do this one thing, be brave about this one thing: Reach out to someone else. Talk to a friend or a family member or maybe someone at your school, a teacher or a counselor, someone you can trust. Because usually what happens is those people are more supportive than you think they will be. They're better than you think they are. And if there is really no one around that you think you can talk to, check out what's available online. There are lots of queer youth groups around the country, and a fantastic umbrella organization in New Zealand called Rainbow Youth

Remember that no matter how bad things seem right now, it will get better. And we want you in our community. Contact someone, get some support, and be there for us. And we will be there for you, too.

SAN FRANCISCO, CA

 

 

 

W
hen I heard about this project, I thought, “I never got bullied so I have nothing to offer.” But then I remembered they always called me “weird” in grammar school, and I didn't have many pals.

Even the one gay kid in sixth grade wouldn't let me play with him and his girlfriends cuz he said I was a boy. I thought, “Yeah, and you're a girl!” I was jealous cuz his mom dressed him as a flapper, in a dress and makeup, on Halloween because she saw that's what he wanted to be. My mom never let me dress as a cowboy for Halloween. She dressed me as Twiggy. No one in San Leandro knew Twiggy was a Carnaby Street supermodel. And I certainly didn't care.