I'm From Driftwood

by Zach

The rather large, chalk-white pill looked up at me from my palm as I poured a glass of water; it made taking the pill easier.

A migraine, and a pill to fix it, and a day I missed school one December in my junior year. You had that tired, annoyed face on; the same face you always had when we were together, alone, and the coming light of another crimson dawn danced into the wrinkles of your face as you sat with that fatigued scowl. That face made the thought of what I was about to say unbearable; unbearable and insurmountable and unsurvivable. I tilted back, tossed the pill down my throat and drank the water loudly.

I turned to leave that room; I wanted to go hide somewhere, I wanted to be anywhere but in that room, facing you and the inevitable pain that would soon follow me after I said what I had to say. I wanted to hide somewhere and be nowhere.

Nowhere sounded good; it sounded beautiful, really. Maybe nowhere could be somewhere that I escaped to; maybe it could be a place where my brain didn’t work right and it just forgot everything and I could just live with stupid, reckless abandon. It could be more permanent than books and movies and music and alcohol. It would be a nowhere that was very empty and quiet and I could just stay there until forever was over, and then stay a few days after that. But it’s impossible to find nowhere, and I guess I’m doomed to always be somewhere. And in this somewhere, you were sitting with that sad, tired look, and the dawn was proceeding and changing into flax-golden rays of light, and your eyes reflected with their gooseberry shine.

The migraine still hurt; the pill hadn’t started working yet, and every inch of me trembled with fear. Nowhere would have to wait.

“Mom, I need to tell you something…”

-(Share your story with us!)

by Anonymous

I’m from a town called Defuniak Springs, Florida. Never heard of it? There’s a reason for that. Defuniak is a rural community in northern Florida (which may as well be called lower Alabama). With the town being located deep in the bible belt, you can imagine the attitudes of the occupants. Everyone’s ultra-conservative, and about as anti-gay as it gets. I grew up in that community, went to church just like everyone else, knew the name of every kid in my school (I had been going to school with the same people since kindergarten). You can imagine how hard it was realizing I was gay. At first I denied it, said I could still like girls. Well after a particularly uncomfortable 3 month relationship with a wonderful girl, I realized that wasn’t true. I was deathly afraid of coming out. Afraid of what the other kids in my high school would say. Even more afraid of telling my parents.

My mother is from the neighboring town, and about as rural as it gets; my step-dad was born in Dothan, AL. Any time we talked about gay people, they were called queers, or fruits. Gay people were something to laugh at. During my sophomore year of high school, I decided to come out to my friends. My parents weren’t very social, so I had no worries about them finding out. Throughout the school day I would get my friends alone and tell them, and much to my amazement, everyone was happy for me (though there were a few mortifying “I knew it!”s). In the following week, as the word spread around school, I realized no one really cared. I mean, I had a few acquaintances stop speaking to me. Some of the really religious kids tried to get me to go to church with them, so I could be “saved.” But for the most part everyone acted like it was no big deal. After such a mostly positive reaction my confidence grew, and I decided I would tell my parents soon.

After work one night (and after drinking quite a few red bulls), I finally got the courage to do it. On the drive home I called my aunt and told her. She told me it was a phase, and laughed. While that might seem mean, that’s the kind of person my aunt is. To this day she says it’s a phase, but she doesn’t think any less of me or treat me any different. Next was to call my dad (he lived 60 miles away). His answer? “That’s nice, can I go back to sleep now?” I remember thinking, that was easier than I thought it’d be. Last but not least was my mother. I was still in high school and lived with her. Seeing as how I’d just gotten off of work it was around eleven at night, she was asleep. My step-dad, was working out of town. I went into her room and shook her awake, and said simply, “Mom, I’m gay.” It took a second for her to actually wake up and register what I’d said. But when it hit, she didn’t do any of the things I was scared of. She didn’t kick me out, she didn’t cry, she didn’t get angry. What she did was say, “Okay” and then proceeded to tell me she loved me anyways, and always would. Unconditionally. I was in awe. I had just done the thing that I had been deathly afraid of for a long time, and it was NO BIG DEAL. Even when my step-dad came home and found out, it wasn’t that bad. I mean it was a little awkward, seeing as how he’s a big country boy, but he never treated me any different.

I suppose the reason I’m writing this is to let those who aren’t out yet know that coming out isn’t a bad thing. It brought me closer to my friends and family, gave me confidence to be who I am, and let me be proud of it. Take the leap, even if you have a bad reaction, you’ll be amazed at how good it feels not to have to hide.

by Stephanie

In high school, two girls can get away with anything short of making out without raising suspicions. Holding hands, constantly touching, none of those things made an impression until I told people the truth years later and they said: “Oh, well that makes sense now.”

We were best friends for five years before that tornado weekend when I said, “I’ve often wondered if I love you,” and she said, “I know I do.” Her boyfriend off at college was forgotten in that instant when my hands sank into her hair and I bit her lips because kissing wasn’t enough to express the force inside of me.  For months we climbed inside of each other, safe from repercussions because my father’s prejudice meant he never even suspected.

South Beach is probably one of the most gay-friendly areas in the country.  I had always grown up seeing men walk by holding hands. We always had gay neighbors. At the same time, I had always heard my father’s sneer when he spoke of them. I knew that while there might be nothing wrong with being gay, my father didn’t like it. Her parents were from Africa, and she knew that if they found out she’d be kicked out of the house. My situation wasn’t so dire – I just didn’t want him to ever look at me that way.

There was a Starbucks on Lincoln Road that we went to several times a week after school to study. There, away from anyone I knew but surrounded by tolerant strangers, I felt free. There, one day, my heart pounding to break my chest, I kissed her in full view of anyone who cared to look.  There, we held hands for hours reviewing calculus.  We could be ourselves, we could be honest, when the only eyes judging us were baristas and tourists.

It’s years later now, and this bisexual is in a relationship with a man.  We’ll probably get married soon.  I never told my parents, though I have told all my friends.  Sometimes it seems like the most important thing about me, and my pulse races as I mention my high school girlfriend casually to a coworker.  Sometimes I wonder if it was all a fever dream.  Sometimes i think back on that 17-year-old kid and marvel at her bravery.  Sometimes I think I am still being a coward.

by Nikki Vaughn

On December 22, 2010, President Obama signed the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. The next day I brought a picture of my partner and I to work–I’m in the military–and placed it in my cabinet until I could have it on my desk just like everyone else. I didn’t have to wait long. On September 20, 2011, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was officially repealed, the same day as my partner’s birthday and was able to celebrate both with my partner at home. Once I got back to where I was stationed in Germany I grabbed a few of the guys I worked with and pulled out the picture I had of my partner and I and placed it on my desk with a huge smile on my face. It was one of the happiest days in my life. Even though my partner does not get the full benefits we deserve, you can say I am proud to serve my country.

I am also happy to say that I will be getting married to my partner of 5 and half years on April 1, 2012.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Gregory Smith

I am bisexual in orientation, and married with children, and out. I grew up as an Air Force brat. We moved around a lot, but finally settled in Florida (my extended family is spread out from south Alabama to south Florida) when I was in 8th grade. I knew but could not admit to myself that I liked looking at big, muscular guys (I’ve always like jocks), and I could not deny that I kept looking at the men’s underwear section of the Sears Catalog! Isn’t that funny! Actually I’ve talked to a lot of other gay and bi guys and they have similar stories about that catalog…

I went through therapy in college trying to figure out my sexuality because I knew I was having experiences with both men and women, and according to society that meant I was gay.  Then I met and fell in love with my wife. So I told her about my orientation and she said that as long as I was dating only her it didn’t matter who I fantasized about and that is how it has been now for 24 years.

Only recently have I shared my orientation with my sons and the larger community. It has taken a great deal of anxiety away from me to do so, and I encourage other people to do so as well. I thought it would be a major problem and it has turned out to be a non-issue.

-(Share your story with us!)