Dear friend,

I’m writing to tell you, among other things, that I am super gay. This may or may not come as a surprise to you. If it does: Surprise! If it does not: You were right all along! Either way: Hooray!

I didn’t want to come out. I don’t want coming out to be a thing that anyone has to do.

A short list of things I’d rather be doing than “thinking about being gay” includes (but is not limited to) writing a song, reading a book, climbing a tree, dancing a jig, and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer for the zillionth time. Don’t get me wrong - I think it is in the best interest of everyone to strive for a greater understanding of the self. I just wish that being gay (or transgender, or asexual, or fill-in-the-blank here) was as unremarkable to the masses as being left-handed or blonde.

In a perfect world, nobody would have to experience any of the negative side-effects of figuring out that you’re gay, which can include feeling confused, shameful, afraid, lost, or alone. In a perfect world, everyone could just like who they like, and get on with it.

Spoiler alert: We do not live in a perfect world.

I began to realize that I was interested in girls in junior high. At first, it made me uncomfortable. I grew up in a fairly rural, conservative town. I knew exactly one kid who was out at school, and he was harassed on a daily basis. I had always sort of liked feeling different from most of the kids at school – you know, poetry over football and whatnot. But I didn’t want to be THAT different. 

My feelings were further complicated by my religious upbringing. My family attended a born-again style church which taught (as many churches do) that homosexuality is a sin. The price of that sin, should you find yourself unable to turn away from it, was to burn in a pit of fiery torment for all eternity. I was an impressionable kid, and hell was advertised to me as very real - and very likely, if I didn’t watch my step. I internalized these ideas as a child and as I grew, they grew with me.

But other growth was happening simultaneously. Over time I got more comfortable with myself, lost a few friends, and made some new ones.When I began my journey as a musician, I decided that I didn’t want to publicly address my sexuality. I didn’t think it was a big deal, or relevant to my job in any way. I also worried that the first word people would associate with me was going to be “gay” instead of “musician.” I didn’t want a non-musical part of myself overshadowing the musical part. Plus I figured it wasn’t anybody’s business.

I still maintain that it is not anybody’s business. I don’t think anyone should have to feel an obligation to come out. I don’t think that outing people is cool. I think every person has the right to privacy, and should be able to share themselves with their friends, their family, and the world at their own pace, in their own time. However, I’ve come to realize in recent months that a big part of my desire to hide this aspect of myself was rooted in those dusty old feelings: that there is something wrong, something bad, something less-than about being gay.

It brings me no pleasure to admit to you that I have felt these feelings. I want to appear strong, because I feel strong now. But at the same time I know it is important - perhaps even the whole point of writing this thing - to make myself vulnerable. Because I know that there are human beings out in the world who understand these feelings but cannot give them a name. I want to tell you that it’s okay to feel messed up. Feeling messed up is a part of life, but it is not the only part. And the only way out of that feeling is through.

This summer I am going to marry my fiancé. Her name is Kristin Russo and she is one half of the team behind EveryoneIsGay.com. Having a firsthand view of the work that she and Dannielle do has been inspiring, and has also made me think more critically about my decision. What kind of a message does it send to a teenager when I avoid a question about my sexuality? Whatever the answer, I’m confident that it is no longer a message I am comfortable sending.

I think it is damaging and isolating for young people to look out into the world and not see a representation of their experience. To encounter others who are like you is to know that you are not alone. Even if you never meet them in real life, these representatives help to contextualize you – they are proof that you are part of something.

You are not an anomaly. You are not a mistake.

I am thankful that in recent years, it has become a bit more common for people from all walks of life to step forward and identify themselves as human beings who also happen to be gay. I am proud to offer my voice to that expanding chorus.

Love,

Jenny

“I’m getting bullied at my middle school because I dress like a boy (I’m a girl). No one has done anything physical, but people laugh and call me a dyke. I don’t want to dress differently, but I don’t know how to handle it. Help?”

- Question submitted by Anonymous and answered by Justin Pierre of Motion City Soundtrack

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That does not sound like a good time at all. I too got called names when I was younger, the F word being a favorite utterance of theirs as I would walk by on my way to class. I always assumed it was the clothes I wore, or the strange haircuts I had, or even the fact that I was in theater. It wasn’t until years later that I realized it was more about them than it was about me. Everyone is insecure about something at some point in their lives, particularly in middle school and high school. I tended to silently dwell on my personal stuff, while others felt the need to publicly shout obscenities at me in order to deal with theirs. Does this make it ok? Absolutely not. But it is something to think about.

My advice to anyone is: BE WHO YOU ARE. But I understand that it is WAY more complicated than that when you are in middle school. And people my age have a hard time remembering that. Some people are incredibly ignorant and have no idea how what they say can really hurt and haunt other people for a long time. I tried 3 different tactics: Confronting the word-lobbers with witty retorts of my own, ignoring them completely, and asking them nicely to stop. None of my tactics worked as well as I had hoped. It wasn’t until I found my own group of “weirdos” to be myself with, that I finally stopped being hurt by what others said, and realized that in the grand scheme of things… the name callers didn’t even matter.

But it is easy for me to say all this now, 20 years later, hindsight and all, telling you to bide your time, that it will get better. That doesn’t help you NOW, when it DOES still matter, and it IS a big deal. I was lucky to find a group of people that celebrated my differences when others were more interested in demolition. My advice is to seek out those types of people, who will compliment you on the way you dress, and high five your ideas, and make you feel good about being a fellow human being coexisting on planet earth. They are out there. They are real, and they exist, and they cannot believe there was ever a time when you weren’t a major player in the story of their lives.

1. I am a non-hetero person but I’m in a long-term heterosexual relationship with the person I think I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. How do I maintain the queer lifestyle while living a heterosexual life?

- Question submitted by Anonymous and answered by Amanda Palmer

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This is such an insanely personal question that I cannot dare to answer it. How we do our relationships is really up to us, the most important thing is that we come up with our guidelines and constructs and understandings and don’t let the outside script dictate our choices. Not all relationships are definable in the usual way, that’s for sure. We wind up getting ourselves into very tight boxes due to the fact that everyone has these super-strict ideas about WHAT things are. What a “marriage” means. What a “long-term” relationship means. What an “open” relationship means. It’s really all just names and words. The key is to come to an understanding with yourself and your lovers/partners/friends. And everyone else can judge all they want, but the thing you construct is not up to them to name.

As far as maintaining the queer lifestyle, think about what you’re saying. If the whole concept of queerness and freedom is to be able to BE YOURSELF and DO WHAT YOU WANT, don’t feel like you have to do a certain fucking dance and show for the world to belong to the queer community. If the queer community is judging you for who you’re sleeping with, they’re not the queer community I’d want to be hanging with, if you know what I mean.

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2. I feel I may be bisexual but have never kissed or had sex with a female. Perhaps doing so would help me understand better my feelings toward the same sex. Does one have to have sexual experiences on any level to truly determine their sexuality or does it simply depend?

- Question submitted by Anonymous and answered by Amanda Palmer

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I don’t think there’s a real answer for this. If what you’re trying to do is find out whether you’re REALLY TURNED ON BY SEX WITH GIRLS, it’s probably a good idea to have sex with one to learn how it feels. You’ll learn things. I have a lot of fantasies about women when I’m in bed but in “real life” I tend to skew more towards liking sex with men when it comes to reality, though it can really depend on the day and the person.

I tend to think we’re all somewhere between straight and gay, though some people are hard to the left or right. But I’d be amazed to meet someone who’s never even tested gay fantasies in their head, to see how it feels. And if you try it in that experimental “is this for me” context, it doesn’t always mean it translates in real-time when you’re faced with a pair of fleshy boobies. Sometimes fantasy just stays wonderful fantasies. Then again, you might find that you get so excited by boobs in person that you never want to give another blow job in your life. Only you will know.