In the fall of 1981 I started middle school. Even before that first day, I knew it was going to be a hard time. I had been a very unpopular child since the beginning of fourth grade, teased and always chosen last for any kind of team, sports or otherwise.

By sixth grade I had developed a strategy. I just did my best to ignore it all, except for the very worst times, when I would head straight for the bathroom during recess and hide until the next class started. (One time a small group of girls smoking protectively encircled me when one student in particular was harassing me and to this day I still find the smell of cigarettes reassuring.)

My mind, focused on avoidance and studies, did not process more than one or two things at once so it took time before I realized how much I differed from my other classmates. Besides having crazy hair (perfect for boys to throw things in to) and wearing clothes made by my mom I never knew the right thing to say and had been called "ugly" so often I thought it was my middle name.

I couldn't understand why (at all) but one day I started noticing a girl in the eighth grade. "Trixie" had hair the complete opposite of mine and sang and had a welcoming smile for everyone. 

We never interacted nor did I ever see her except at school concerts or in the hallways between classes, but I got a tiny but sharp jot of happiness and excitement whenever I saw her: Every. Single. Time. I delighted in seeing her, in ways I couldn't explain, but still knew weren't normal or typical.

Three years later, having survived what I think of as the worst years any child can go through in school, I started high school, where being tormented by peers was traded in for being ignored, something I infinitely preferred.

The fall of 1984 changed things forever for me. One day I saw someone across the cafeteria during lunch and stopped in my tracks. Up until then I either pretended or just didn't know any better, but that September...I might not be able to name my feelings, but I could name what they were not...

That year and sophomore year I discovered that everything society told and taught me I had to feel for a boy was instead what I felt for a girl.

"J" and I never became friends, we didn't even know each other. As with "Trixie," I only ever saw her from a distance.

Two years later, in senior year, though, I would discover what unrequited feelings (for someone I actually knew) truly meant and it would start a lifelong fear of ever expressing any kind of emotion to another human being...

My last post was originally written after I drank two glasses of wine and spoke into my microphone to text app. I left my words untouched for a bit after I posted, then went back in and fixed my mistakes.

I'm tempted now to get rid of it completely, but then I think: no. The lgbtqia+ community is in danger and its youth are more prone to suicide than straight youth.

I named one individual in particular, Dr. Everette Piper, because he has a regular column in the very far right newspaper Washington Times and on Mondays he (and sometimes another columnist, Robert Knight) both choose to write about queer people in the most hateful and ignorant of ways. Their writing borders on rabid obsessive and is almost always inflammatory.

Homophobia feels stronger and more hateful than ever before and we really are backsliding into the days when ant-gay attitudes ran amok everywhere. 

Some people are worried with Trump and the Heritage Foundation's Project 2025 that we will return to the days of the 1950s, but from what I've read, the 1850s seem more like it. No one, except straight white men, will be spared.

Every day I see more and more hate being spewed towards the queer community, whether it be in news stories written about the far right or on Facebook comments or just something as simple as Fox News or the latest Washington Times Monday diatribe from Dr. Everett Piper.

Homophobes think they have us pegged, but they don’t. They really, really don’t; they don’t know us at all.

We’re not sinners and we’re not pedophiles and we’re not hedonistic or heathens. 

We just want to love and be loved.

I’ve known I was gay for more than 40 years and I’ve never had a girlfriend nor acted on my feelings, even though I’ve been in love.

If it weren’t for my cat, I would be dead. That is simple too, but a simple truth. I am a walking cat lady virgin cliche and yet that is the best part of my life.

I told someone that people needed to see themselves reflected in reality because it was vital to existing in this world that has backslid into demonizing lgbtqia+ people.

They didn’t know what I meant so I told them that the suicide rate among gay youth was double that of straight and how I knew people who had tried to kill themselves because they had nowhere to turn and no one to accept them.

They said "that's not my problem, maybe you shouldn't be gay."

The party that considers itself pro-life is anything but... 

They don’t care about babies once they’re born.

They don’t care about LGBTQ people and don’t care if gay youth kill thrmsekves. In fact, some people seem to celebrate it. 

I am deathly afraid of next year and 2025 because I know Trump is going to win. And the Heritage Foundation has a very scary plan ready to put in place that will affect everyone except straight white men.

Those who hate gay people because they see them as sinful or full of pride have so much to learn. I obviously can't speak for all gay people, but I do know for me that it is not about "pride" (I am not particularly proud I am gay) but about relief that there are other people like me. 

Now, more than ever, that is the lifeboat I am grabbing onto for dear life.