Personal Narrative: Are You Gay

From an early age, my mother told me what it was she believed about me; I was creative, I was beautiful, I was intelligent, and I was most definitely not gay. The last one always stuck out from the others, but I never questioned it as a child.

Within life you will se many things that help shape and define you as a person. As time goes on you can look back and see the triumphs and failures that you did that related to a specific task. One of the toughest challenges for me was the idea of coming out as gay to my family and friends. Throughout this chapter of my life I look back and wish I would have done things differently, and there are many things that I feel like I triumphed at.

I am (F/N) (L/N). I go to Harry Herpson Community College. I’m Majoring in astronomy, the study of space, stars, and outer space planets. I’m really big on the whole interdimensional space beings and such. But currently my studies are at a hult because of some dumbass, who decided to drag me along on one of their motherfucking adventure. How did this happen? Well that would have to be first moment I fucking met Rick MOTHERFUCKING Sanchez!

Bare with me for another blog post about volleyball. This weekend was the Badger Region Volleyball Tournament, which my team participated in. When I walked into the building, the memories flooded in with scenes from the elevator adventures, cheese fries, and design your own sweatshirts. The first day, my team didn't play up our full potential, with my team only winning one out of three matches; which meant that we didn't place in any of the brackets, meaning zero chance of receiving a medal. However, at the end of the second match, I got switched from being middle all-around to libero ( a position where you only play back row on offense and defense). I guess it's an honor, but it puts a lot of pressure on me by labeling me as the best passer

The reason i started painting and drawing in the first place is i found that i am truly happiest when creating. I thoroughly enjoy the struggle of drawing and painting scenes or ideas created through imagination. Creating art was never about money to me, it was about seeking happiness and a sense of purpose.

Discovering my sexual orientation was not really a surprise. I always knew, however, the idea that I was considered abnormal was what pushed me back the most. My faith and my parents always taught me it was wrong to like the same sex, and that made me afraid to come out. It made me frightened and anxious to think I wasn’t the child people thought I would be, and how it would affect me in the future. I thought I was a disappointment and I, myself, was a human sin.

I wiped away the tears brought on my my fathers words. Kill yourself. I thought that i would always have him, if no one else. I looked up and stared into his eyes. Blue like mine and id never hated anything as much as those eyes. They were cold and merciless. I pushed back more tears and felt the sting of regret. Why did i think hed understand me? I thought telling him i was gay would help our relationship but never had i been so wrong. I choked on the thousand things i wanted to say and he shook his head at me. "Maybe i will..." i stammered before running out into the cold night air. Why me? Why couldn't i look at a girl and want her? Why is it that only another man can make me feel love so truly? It was passed midnight by the time i got to

Who am i? I am an individual who has achieved many goals despite a childhood and adolecense with much adversity. I grew up I Santa Clarita, California my child hood was realativley normal . My grandmother mary died, when I was 7 and my mother started drinking heavily . By the time I was 11 she was a raging alcoholic and was depressed most of the time. I was helpless, at the same time my father became a drug addict. As a result of her alcoholism my mother contacted cirrhosis and when I was 13 she passed away. I was devastated and too young to lose my mother.

What defines me is my drive to help people, and the adrenaline and mental high I get from doing it. I can accredit this to my Aunt Rhonda who was a Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) During my early childhood. I remember her letting me sit on her lap after she got back from a long weekend of volunteering, and me marveling over her stories of the shift. By the time I got to elementary school, I had started carrying extra band-aids in my backpack so as to save the life of a possible wounded classmate. When I got into middle school, I was familiar with the first responder standards of care and had my own basic medical bag. I spent my weekends reading “Grey's Anatomy” and watching endotracheal intubation demonstrations on youtube instead of doing my homework. But everything I

When my friend, whom I will call Jane, had asked me to come over to talk, I never would have fathomed what I was about to hear. “I’m depressed,” she confessed off-handedly, her eyes downcast and her fingers fiddling with the comforter on the bed. For a few seconds – but what felt like minutes – I couldn’t form words, shell-shocked and unsure how to respond. I tentatively asked her what made her say that, and for the next hour, I listened to her talk, offering encouraging words and gentle questions when she would occasionally trail off into silence. The delicate nature of the situation felt painfully tangible in those moments, and I struggled to form my sentences so as not to break the balance.

By the time I knew what I was getting myself into, it was already too late.

Social construction of gender to myself applies to the “normalcy” of girls are feminine while the boys are masculine but throughout my years I have learned to challenge it. Through various institutions starting with my family I have learned that my gender is feminine however through other influences I have not fully become a girl y girl as you would call it. Gender is considered to be on a micro level it is more personal level due to the fact it is your own identity what I according to the lecture on “Identity is Fluid”. “ Identity can be based on my family or childhood experience and is often shaped by race, economic class, sexual orientation, geography and last but not least gender”. How I socialize into my gender roles

Women in the world are being oppressed everyday. It is a sad reality. Women all over the world face shame and injustices each day. It can be depressing to look through the statistics of abuse, wage gap, and shame that females go through at least once in their life. I, like many other people in the world, want to do something about the pain that women face every single day. Women's rights are extremely important to me because, one: I am woman, and two: I believe that I, and every single female on this earth, is equal to a male and should not be treated poorly. From this drive I decided to take action. For my AP 3-D Studio Art class, I decided to concentrate on the battleground that a woman’s body has become.

Molasses begins to flow through my veins as I sense the hefty admission crawling up my throat. I’ve done it many times before, but this time is different because I fear the outcome could be one of destruction and ravaged relationships. The tension inside the tent rises and eyes turn toward me as I confess, “Guys, I’m gay”. Preparing for whatever onslaught of glares and screams of disgust are bound to come my way, I brace myself. Hovering in the air, the extended silence that radiates confusion and uncertainty, is eventually broken by hysterical laughter from the majority of my fellow scouts. This extreme step outside of my comfort zone does not only act as a bonding experience, but a meaningful bridge between conservative Christians and the

Sixteen years worth of sorrow were hidden in those words-- sixteen years filled with shame and abominable disgust. Yet the moment they had left my lips, I finally felt freed from my shackles. My most discreet affliction was no longer secret, and I knew from that moment on, that I no longer had to parade around under the facade of confused a young woman. This revelation left me filled with nothing but the utmost jubilance. My confession was acknowledged with a gentle smile and an abundance of congratulations, as my therapist gave me the reassurance I had always needed.