It Gets Better Page 7

  Ben Franklin: There are angels out there willing to lift you up and take care of you and give you wings to help you become the person you were meant to be, to help you discover the gifts you were born with.

  Jose Llana: I’ve used that confidence and that self-assurance to help propel myself into a pretty happy career and a pretty happy life. I’ve got a partner I’ve been with for five years, and we’re looking to buy an apartment together. And one day I hope to have kids, too.

  David Beach (Urinetown, Mamma Mia!): I never expected to have such a beautiful baby girl or such a great husband. It gets so much better. Just think, you could grow up to have a boring life like me!

  Jim Daly (Altar Boyz and New York talent agent): Today, I have a family with two wonderful women—two wonderful women I didn’t know even know were lesbians back then. They didn’t even know, and now we have three beautiful kids together.

  Brian Charles Rooney (The Threepenny Opera): I’ve been in a relationship with my partner for eleven years. And I can’t imagine what his life would be like without me.

  J.R. Bruno: Next month, I plan to propose to my boyfriend. I’m excited.

  Kevin Crewell (Jersey Boys, Spamalot): Talk to somebody. That’s what I kind of wish I’d done. I kept it all bottled up inside.

  Danny McNie (Miss Saigon): If you’re having a bad day, know that it gets better. Know that you have an army behind you. When you get a little bit older, you will find a home. And you will find a family of friends who will love the hell out of you.

  Alex Quiroga: I’m surrounded by a lot of people who support me and love me for who I am. You’ll get there. I promise.

  Ben Sands (New York talent agent): I’ve created this incredible community of people around me—friends and family—that I absolutely love and treasure, which was hard to imagine when I was that little, scared fifteen-year-old boy coming out of the closet.

  Chris Nichols: Call somebody. Look at these videos, there are thousands. Know that you are not the only one.

  Steven Strafford (Spamalot): One of the greatest things about my life is the amount of people who know who I really am. Just live in truth and try to find people who will understand. It will free you.

  Bryan Johnson (Mamma Mia!): You know why everybody’s making videos and writing their stories for this project? Because you matter. You matter. Don’t let anyone define you with their hateful words and actions. Believe in yourself, no matter what they say or do. Love yourself. Be good to yourself. Life is so wonderful with all its heartaches and joys. And the world is such an incredible, beautiful place. You deserve to be around to enjoy it. You deserve to have an amazing life.

  ROCKIN’ THE FLANNEL SHIRT

  by Krissy Mahan

  UPSTATE NEW YORK

  If you follow the media, or pop culture, you might think that all gay people live in cities and have a lot of money. Well, as a person who lives in the country and doesn’t have a lot of money, I can tell you that not all gay people are urban or rich. I’ve been really happy being a big rural dyke. So, if you want to live in the country, or just can’t move away, you’ll be fine. And, if you don’t have a ton of money, you’ll be fine, too. You’ll get yourself a job. There are plenty of good jobs out there for people who want to work hard. You’ll be a butch dyke and you’ll be hot. Everyone will love it. It will be good.

  Work hard and then go do something fun on Saturday night, like go look at girls . . . that’s better.

  One of the nice things about being in the country is you don’t have to deal with people all the time. There’s land out there, and you can just get away. Go build yourself a little fort in the woods. In the rural areas I’ve lived, people are more concerned with what I can do and what skills I have, rather than who I’m involved with. Competence and confidence are sexy. If you live in the country, you just “know” how to do stuff—the ladies love that. Also, there’s a long tradition of support for unconventional people in rural areas. Even when people are mean, you don’t have to go too far to be reminded about how great it is to be alive because nature is so beautiful. You can do things now that will feel good and will give you something to talk about with people when you’re older.

  Growing up I only knew one person who was gay. I took a lot of crap for being how I was, and honestly, I didn’t even know that I was gay then. Everyone else seemed to think they knew that I was gay, which was kind of hard. There wasn’t a lot of help either in those days. If I had wanted to talk with someone about all of it, it wouldn’t have been very welcomed.

  My grandparents had an outhouse and a hand pump we used to have to use to get water out of the ground. They grew and canned their own food, and kept chickens. I’ve had it much easier than they did, but the skills I learned from my family have served me well. Now I live on a farm in upstate New York. I build chicken coops. When there’s a problem with a building or machine, I can fix it. My parents are not glad that I am gay but they are proud of raising a daughter who can take care of herself and build things. My girlfriend and I have both tried living in urban areas but we didn’t really like it. We choose instead to live as an out lesbian couple with her parents on their family farm. Every day we are so happy. I think that things are getting better, for everybody, even in rural areas.

  I still struggle with feeling okay. A while ago, I was even hospitalized. I got treatment in a psychiatric hospital after becoming really depressed. My friend killed herself, and I didn’t handle it well. Psych facilities in rural counties are rough places. I don’t ever want to go back. When I say that it gets better, I am not saying it will always be easy. You will just have more choices about how to handle tough times. That’s a big improvement.

  I know that maybe right now it feels like you don’t have a lot of choices, and maybe you don’t. But things will open up. You have to just ride it out. As someone who has been there, I can assure you, it gets better. If you’re living in the country, I’m sure there are some things that are kind of frustrating for you, and you’re probably rockin’ the flannel shirt every now and then, but that is going to be totally hot to somebody someday. It’s gonna get real better.

  Krissy builds chicken coops and fixes things in upstate New York. Krissy is a member of the Austin Project, led by Dr. Omi Osun, Joni L. Jones, and Sharon Bridgforth.

  HOW IT GOT BETTER FOR AN ORDAINED CHRISTIAN MINISTER

  by Professor Stephen V. Sprinkle

  FORT WORTH, TX

  This year marks the fortieth anniversary of my high school graduation. As I look back across my life, I can remember times that weren’t so good. I was a closeted gay man in a church setting that did not particularly congratulate young Christians for being gay or lesbian.

  So when I received my call to the ministry, I was also living my way into what it meant to be gay. I remember very clearly making the decision that I would not be able to allow myself affection in this life if I were going to serve God in the church. It wasn’t a very good decision. I was lonely for a lot of years.

  I’ve served five churches as pastor, and every church I served grew. I was closeted all those years and always felt as though I had to look over my shoulder, fearing I would be discovered, or that I’d somehow slip up and give my secret away.

  Carefully and slowly at first, I came out to a few selected friends and confidants where I lived and worked. While those moments of personal liberty were great, I found that partially coming out was not going to give me the freedom to be myself—not as long as the fear of exposure haunted me. A close friend of mine, to whom I had already come out, offered me some of the best advice I had have ever received. He said, “Steve, if there are no longer any secrets, then there can be no ambushes.”

  I took what he said to heart, and made the decision to put secrets about my sexuality behind me. So twenty years ago, I came out—utterly, fully, and completely—and I wouldn’t go back into the closet for anything in the world. I am able to tell you, person to person, that it does get better. Because now, as an ordained minis
ter—and Baptist, at that—for the last thirty-three years, I’ve had a full, complete, and active religious life. I teach in a divinity school and I love what I do. I have the best job in the whole school, and wouldn’t trade my job for any other job here. I love the students I teach; I respect the colleagues that I work with; I enjoy talking about God all day long; and I’m as out and free as I can be, partnered for the last eleven years with a wonderful man. We’re even the proud parents of an English bulldog named Winston. He loves his two daddies, and we love him, too.

  So, when it seems that things are about as bad as they can possibly be and the worries weigh upon you, like a murder of crows on top of your head, just tell yourself that Steve Sprinkle says it gets better. When I came out, I found out that I had a multitude of friends I just hadn’t met yet—people who were willing to know me for exactly who I was. People in my church family loved and accepted me. Coworkers appreciated me even more than before I came out, because I had thought enough of them and myself to be honest about my personal life. And there were many friends and allies who just seemed to appear at my side out of nowhere, right when I needed their support and encouragement the most.

  There were people who couldn’t make the leap from the closeted person I had been to the open and honest gay man I became. I am sorry they could not accept the real me. But I can tell you that for each one of them who walked away from me because of my sexual orientation, scores of new friends arose in their place. I am so grateful that I have them all in my life.

  I hope that if you are ever given to despair, you will take hold of hope with both hands. Never turn loose what gives you hope! Because you are going to find out that your life will get better. A lot better. And I hope down the road somewhere, I’ll meet you in a divinity school classroom, and we can tell each other face to face, “You know what? It really did get better, for both of us.”

  Stephen V. Sprinkle is the director of field education and supervised ministry and an associate professor of practical theology at Brite Divinity School on the campus of Texas Christian University in Fort Worth, Texas. An ordained Baptist minister with the Alliance of Baptists, he is the first openly gay teacher and scholar in the history of his seminary, and the first out gay person to be tenured there. His most recent book is Unfinished Lives: Reviving the Memory of LGBTQ Hate Crimes Victims, published by Resource Publications of Eugene, Oregon.

  OUT OF DARKNESS

  by Philip Deal

  WINTHROP, MA

  I grew up as a Jehovah’s Witness. All my family and friends, and basically everyone I knew, were Jehovah’s Witnesses. My parents are still devout followers. I know what it’s like to live in that Witness bubble, and I’ll bet there are a few gay kids reading this who are Jehovah’s Witnesses, too. This story is for you.

  When I was eight years old, I remember going to the Kingdom Hall and sitting down and opening up this book called You Can Live Forever on a Paradise Earth; you’ve probably heard of it. Turning through the pages, I stopped at one page that’s burned into my mind to this day. It featured a collage of pictures depicting the horrible things in our world that God needs to destroy. There was a picture of an old lady getting her purse snatched, and one of a starving kid in Africa, and another of a junkie shooting up with heroin, and one of some guy who was shot in the head. All the images were very graphic and very scary. But right in the middle was a big picture of two guys dancing at a disco. Two guys embracing and dancing with one another in a disco. When I saw it, I remember thinking, Oh my God, that’s me. And then I thought, What if anybody finds out? What if they already know? What if they already know that I’m a big queer?

  I kept that a secret for a long time; I had to. You might have to, too. Putting up with everybody else’s bullshit is hard. Sometimes you have to put up with it for a long time. But the trick is not to give up until you get what you want.

  Those kids who committed suicide had something to offer the world. Something special, something grand. They were unique and they had something to give. And they forfeited it; they let it go. They gave up too early before getting what they wanted out of life. I get it. I tried to commit suicide. I understand what they felt when they did it. Sometimes it feels like you just can’t handle it anymore. But I am going to share a secret with you. I am going to tell you what helped me handle those feelings.

  I love to dance. I love dancing, and I love teaching dance. I love ballet. And it’s something I’ve done my entire life. When everything else is going wrong in my life I turn to that. I turn to the one thing that I love most. That is my recommendation to you: Whenever you get to that point where you feel you can’t go on anymore, just remember that one thing that you love in the world more than anything else, and cling to it. Doesn’t matter what it is. Whether it’s watching television or listening to music, or putting on makeup, or singing, or doing karaoke, or whatever it is you love. Do it. Do the hell out of it, and try to remember that the bad times don’t last forever. The good times don’t last forever either, but that’s okay.

  And if you’re one of those queer Jehovah’s Witness kids out there, I am here for you. I know what it’s like. But I guarantee things do get better.

  Philip Deal is an internationally renowned classical and contemporary dancer. He is an award-winning choreographer and teacher and runs his own ballet instructional website and blog, www.philipdeal.com.

  by Alison Bechdel

  I drew this cartoon a long time ago, when I was in my thirties. But things had already gotten a lot better by then—I made it through the excruciating years of high school. I went on to make out with many delightful women, and dress like Fred Astaire when I felt like it. I did not take up boxing, but I did get my black belt in karate. Take that, Sylvester Stallone!

  SOMETHING SPECIAL

  by Sia Furler

  NEW YORK, NY

  I grew up around wacky artists and knew from very early on that there was something special about me. I didn’t really know what it was then, but it turns out it’s a number of things. And one of them is that I was a queer-lord. Now I call myself a gay-lord, and art fag, a lezzie, a dyke, straight . . . all sorts of things because, the truth is, labels really shouldn’t matter and don’t essentially matter if you’re lucky enough to come from an artistic background or a gay-friendly household. And I was lucky enough to come from that kind of household.

  My story—I guess my queer story—starts from very early on. I really didn’t mind if you were a girl or a boy, I just wanted you to love me. I had a very desperate energy about me. I feel sorry for my early self because I realize that I had a lot of shame about being different and special. So I overcompensated. I overcompensated by devaluing myself, putting myself down, sabotaging my success and my relationships with both men and women. I sabotaged it all.

  It wasn’t until maybe three years ago that I really, really realized that I am queer. And here. Even I’m getting used to it. I can now say that I’m queer and proud, and that I love you if you’re having a hard time. I’ve always loved you. I just didn’t know I loved me, too. And at some point, it gets better. It gets better, and you learn to love yourself and you learn to love your specialness.

  Only you know when you’re ready to come out. And if you’re not ready to come out, that’s okay too. A lot of us protect ourselves from danger. It’s a matter of survival for many of us. But, I’m proud and I hope that one day we all are able to say, “I’m gay” or “I’m a lesbian” or “I’m transgender” or “I’m queer” and that it will be okay. I will tell you that for me, right now, I’m very comfortable with it. And you will be, too. It gets better.

  Australian-born singer and songwriter Sia has released four studio albums. The latest, We Are Born, has won critical accolades the world over as well as two 2010 ARIA Awards (the Australian Grammys) for Best Independent Release and Best Pop Release. Her last album, Some People Have Real Problems, won a 2009 ARIA Award for Best Music DVD for her distinctively visual videos. She is currently totally awesome.
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  THE DINNER PARTY

  by Adam Roberts

  NEW YORK, NY

  When I told my friend Alex that I was cooking a dinner for my parents and Craig’s parents, Alex (who knew me in college) said: “Did you ever think, ten years ago, that this would ever happen? That you’d cook a dinner one day for your parents and your boyfriend and his parents?” The answer to that question was most definitely: “No.”

  It’s hard to get back into the headspace where that dinner would’ve seemed impossible. But there’ve been so many tragic gay suicides—thirteen-year-old Seth Walsh, fifteen-year-old Billy Lucas, thirteen-year-old Asher Brown and, perhaps the most publicized case, Rutgers student Tyler Clementi, who jumped off a bridge after his roommate broadcast his sexual encounter with another man online—that getting back into that headspace seems important. And so, I’d like to tell you how I got from that world of impossibility to the dinner I cooked one recent Friday night.

  First, the dinner. As a passionate braiser, I decided to braise short ribs using a recipe from The Babbo Cookbook. I did this all the night before, browning the meat well, deglazing with red wine and filling the pot with herbs (rosemary, thyme, oregano), covering with foil, and braising in the oven for two hours until the meat came apart with a spoon. Then I cooled it to room temperature and placed in the refrigerator overnight.