https://stopbullyingcanada.wordpress.com/2011/03/31/this-is-my-compass/
Towleroad: I grew up in a very conservative Mormon military household
in San Antonio, Texas. I knew from the age of six what people would
call me if they ever discovered my “secret.” Faggot. Deviant. Sinner.
I’d heard those words ever since I can remember. I knew that I was
going to Hell. I was sure God did not love me. It was clear as day
that I was “less than” the other kids, and that if anyone ever found
out about my little secret, beyond suffering physical harm, I would
surely bring great shame to my family. So I had two choices: to hide—
to go on a Mormon mission, to get married and have a small Mormon
family (eight to twelve kids)—or to do what I’d thought about many a
time while daydreaming in Texas history class: take my own life.
Thankfully, there weren’t enough pills (fun or otherwise) inside my
Mormon mother’s medicine cabinet, so I pretended and I hid and I cried
myself to sleep more Sabbath nights than I care to remember. Then,
when I was twelve years old, I had a turn of luck. My mom remarried a
Catholic Army soldier who had orders to ship out to Fort Ord in
Salinas, California. There I discovered a new family, the theater and
soon, San Francisco. That’s when it happened. I was almost fourteen
when I heard a recording of a speech. It had been delivered on June 9,
1978, the same year my biological father had moved my family out to
San Antonio. It was delivered by what I was told was an “out” gay man.
His name was Harvey Milk (EXCLUSIVE: Milk Screenwriter Dustin Lance
Black on Milk, 30 Years Later).