Thanks to my free-spirited parents, I spent my childhood watching gay pride parades and discussing radical feminism in a victorian located one block from Castro district of San Francisco. After a brutal divorce, resembling nothing of their peaceful nature, my father packed up and moved across the country. My mother trailed after him, and I was stuck in a conservative town where homosexuality, it was assumed, was a far-fetched idea yet to be solved by ghost busters.

Coming from San Francisco gave me a sort of reverse naivete, and I was confused when my peers did not understand my hippy style, unshaven legs, “city” accent, and passionate need to claim my identity. Eventually the combination of my personal preferences and my urban sensibilities led me to enthusiastically embrace the honor of being the first open lesbian student at my high school. It did not, however, prepare me for the reactions that would follow:

I found myself hissed at, oogled and shoved before I could even try to make friends. My sexuality had turned high school into a nightmare.

I sought acceptance wherever I could find it and threw myself into countless activities and clubs. These efforts did not ease the pain of being slammed into lockers with “dyke” ringing in my ear, but they did give me something positive to focus on.

I found a particular refuge in theater, with the black stage consuming my worries and the bright lights blinding me from hateful onlookers. I poured my entire soul into my roles and into the theater itself. I learned how to run the lights, draw the curtains, and act the
part. I began to speak with the actors around me and found that many, too, were outcasts. Alone, it was unbearable. Together, we were unstoppable.

I recently spent my junior year abroad in France and when I returned, my parents had moved to a new city, so I now have had ample opportunity to speak with a wide variety of teenagers. If I have come to any conclusion, it is that high school is a challenge of endurance no matter where you live or who you identify as, and in these years, misinformation is easily spread, especially when it comes to the LGBT community. I have dreamed of a career as a teacher since I was three and my experiences have only confirmed this path. I want to be there for teens during such confusing times and, perhaps, help correct some of that confusing misinformation.

My experiences have made me a strong and powerful woman in my own right. I can only hope to assist other people in feeling the same way about their experiences.