My parents got me one of these when I was a kid.  I didn't like it.  I was a very passive boy and abhorred violence.  The idea that boys were expected to defend themselves when physically attacked really bothered me.  I knew I wasn't a fighter.  I felt shame and I lived in fear.  I didn't want to be hurt, but it seemed that being vulnerable meant you deserved abuse.  So what were my parents thinking when they bought me such a gift?  That's the trouble, they weren't thinking.  They simply went to the toy department and picked out something that was supposedly for small people with penises. 

I think there’s a wall that separates us from those who think it’s wrong for us to be who we are. I don’t mean those who are merely confused or misinformed, but the ones who still insist that it’s wrong no matter how much we try to explain it to them. I think this might be especially true of other LGBT people who think it’s wrong. It feels like a betrayal. I have no interest in “building bridges” with such people, and I don’t see the need for it. I can coexist with them without cozying up to them. I’m not the one trying to outlaw anyone’s life. I’m not the one saying anybody is hell-bound. If someone is like that, I don’t want to be around them until they stop being like that.

I think there will come a time, perhaps sooner than later, when Christian beliefs regarding sex and sexuality will be viewed as antiquated and as absurd as Christian beliefs regarding astronomy in the 15^th century. And those who refuse to accept the advances we’ve made in our understanding of sex and sexuality will be regarded as shamefully and willfully ignorant and cruel. If the Christian religion survives, I suspect the period we’re living in right now will be seen as a dark and embarrassing era which will serve as a reminder that some Christians can be profoundly stupid and hurtful. As time goes on, more and more people will come to realize that this game we’ve been playing at, this idea that there are strictly two sexes and everyone falls neatly into one or the other category, that the sexes need to be separated, that different roles need to be assigned to them and strictly enforced, that one sex needs to be the master of the other, and sexual pleasure needs to be confined to two married people of the opposite sex… I think all of that will one day be seen by nearly everyone on earth as silly and intellectually and morally bankrupt as believing we are at the center of the universe and everything we see in the sky is revolving around us.

After I graduated from high school, my sister and I went to Myrtle Beach for a few days. One evening we had to stand in line before being served at a restaurant. There was a group of about four college boys ahead of us, and I was tired and bored, so without realizing it, I began staring at them. After a while, I heard one whisper to another, “That boy and girl behind us are watching us.” He seemed a bit confused. Well, I was looking at them because I thought they were cute. I can’t speak for my sister. LOL

Since I am always in the process of becoming, I am not ex-Gary or post-Gary but pre-Gary. I strive to be me. Some, however, think I should be George.

When my parents died, I left my beloved West Virginia--verdant, green West Virginia--and moved to the desert town of Merced on the other side of the country in California in part to get away from people who interacted with me as if my point of view and my thoughts and feelings were of no consequence. If I dared say anything to certain people, what I got back was “praise Jesus” or “give it to Jesus” or a Bible verse or a sermon. The implication always being that I already did or I should completely accept their beliefs. My individuality had no value whatsoever to these people. They didn’t even see me as an individual. I was either already part of their hive or I needed to be converted. All those big fake smiles and the forced and pretend positivity was suffocating and exhausting.

About a year after my head surgeries, my father, out of the blue, told me that he didn’t think I had thanked God for allowing me to survive. It dawned on me that he had hoped that episode in my life would compel me to accept his religious beliefs. I could have easily turned the tables on him and told him that after nearly losing me, it seems he would finally be prepared to accept me for who I am. I could have, but I didn’t.

The Wisdom of Youth

Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein when she was just 19. Her husband Percy wrote some of his best poetry before the age of 24. Helen Keller wrote her autobiography The Story of My Life when she was 22. Author Rimbaud wrote his most celebrated poetry while still a teenager. Alexander Pope wrote his masterpiece at age 24. S.E. Hinton wrote The Outsiders while still in high school. And Stephen Crane was 23 when he wrote The Red Badge of Courage.

Of course young people have achieved great things in other fields, too. Music, art, dance, drama, mathematics, science, athletics… Friedrich Nietzsche was a full professor with tenure by the time he was 24. But I chose to highlight achievements in literature because I think certain stories and poetry resonate with us because the authors have shown through these works that they had great insight into the human condition. Insight, maturity and wisdom.

It may be unusual for a young person to write a book or a poem that we still relish and read decades later, but that’s unusual for anybody of any age. The point is young people often have the capacity to see things, have things to teach us, and some are articulate enough to pass on their wisdom and insight.

Maybe it’s true that some people gain wisdom and insight as they get older. I like to think I have. But I don’t think there is any guarantee that we’ll be smarter when we’re older. I’ve known a number of people who have, in my opinion, gotten dumber, meaner, more stubborn as they have grown older. They were more open and more curious about the world around them and the people in it when they were young. With time, they have become bitter, unpleasant, hostile and self-important, not wise at all.

And yet, I have noticed that many older people have a tendency to talk about the young as if they are necessarily stupid and their opinions have little value. While others talk about the young as if they necessarily need our guidance and protection. I think in many cases vanity fuels these attitudes. We want to believe that simply by surviving a number of decades we are more knowledgeable and more competent. But, I think, much to the chagrin of some of us, sometimes the young ones know better.

For instance, those under 30 are the ones most likely to understand LGBT people and support our rights. Those least likely are those over 60. Many young people stand behind us even as we look down on them.