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QColumn: A Gay In The Life: The Unending Journey

Steve Prince came out 10 years ago and in the birthday spirit, he’s reminiscing.
The Unending Journey
By Steve Prince
Recently I volunteered for a phone-counseling program designed for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, and questioning youth. Some of the callers are older, but most of the kids calling are ages twelve to twenty-four. No matter how much I prepared myself, I wasn’t able to even fathom all the different reasons people would call. He called because he had a fight with his boyfriend and didn’t know who to talk to. He called because he can’t stand the breasts that he was born with. She calls because drinking is the only way she can feel comfortable around the straight girl that she’s in love with. All of these callers are under sixteen-years-old.
They call because they need to be heard. Need to be consoled. Need to be loved.
“I can’t go back there again!” Through the helpline phone I can hear the frustration in Shawn’s thirteen-year-old voice.
“Well, Shawn…” I pause. I don’t want to sound like a parent, but he has to go to school. “What do you not like the most about school?”
“It’s the names.” Shawn says, his voice cracking. “I know I shouldn’t care, but if I get called fag one more time. I’m sick of it. Do you know what it’s like?”
Faggot. It’s just a word but it still stings. I try and wish that sting away, but it’s still there. It still evokes pain. Not as much as it did when I was young, but it still lingers like a bubble in a murky pound that slowly floats to the surface and pops, causing a small but distinct ripple in the water’s clouded surface.
This week it has been ten years since I came out of the closet. It’s one of the greatest acts of love I have ever given myself. Today in Los Angeles, I am so lucky to be able to live my life openly and carefree, yet I often forget the trauma of my own coming out process. As much as I loved growing up in Oklahoma, I often forget the huge amount of heartache I went through in the heartland. As I talk to kids on the phone listening to their struggles of coming out, my own memories flash through my mind like scenes in a play. To answer Shawn’s question, I do know what it’s like…

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