I Was Bullied for Beg Gay as a Kid Even Though I’m Straight - The Doe</tle><meta name="article:published_time" ntent="2021-06-01T06:00:00+0000"/><meta name="thor" ntent="HistoryLsons"/><meta name="scriptn" ntent="A profsor talks about the long-term effects of beg bullied for beg gay middle school and high school, even though they’ve never intified as gay."/><meta property="og:scriptn" ntent="A profsor talks about the long-term effects of beg bullied for beg gay middle school and high school, even though they’ve never intified as gay."/><meta property="og:image" ntent="><meta property="og:image:alt" ntent="I Was Bullied for Beg Gay as a Kid Even Though I’m Straight"/><meta property="og:tle" ntent="I Was Bullied for Beg Gay as a Kid Even Though I’m Straight"/><meta property="og:type" ntent="article"/><meta property="og:url" ntent="><meta name="twter:rd" ntent="summary_large_image"/><meta name="twter:se" ntent="@TheDoe"/><meta name="twter:scriptn" ntent="A profsor talks about the long-term effects of beg bullied for beg gay middle school and high school, even though they’ve never intified as gay."/><meta name="twter:imageUrl" ntent="><script type="applitn/ld+json">{"@ntext":","@type":"Article","maEntyOfPage":{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"},"headle":"I Was Bullied for Beg Gay as a Kid Even Though I’m Straight","datePublished":"2021-06-01T06:00:00+0000","dateModified":"2021-06-01T06:00:00+0000","thor":{"@type":"Person","name":"HistoryLsons"},"publisher":{"@type":"Organizatn","name":"The Doe","logo":{"@type":"ImageObject","url":"}},"image":[",",","],"articleBody":"Gog to seventh gra, I was really exced that I might be popular. I knew a bunch of other kids om the other feer elementary schools and, after puberty h me hard fourth gra (wh all the cintal Catholic shame about my sir and the explic nature of my fantasi), I felt awkward but super to girls—crazily to girls, sanely to girls. I hoped I would have girliends and iends, and feel more fortable my own sk. That hope lasted until the end of the first day of seventh gra. I was gog to play sports, bee playg sports was one way to be “ol,” pecially after three years of takg jazz and tap dancg class—ually beg the only boy a class of girls leotards. It was somethg that add to my girl crazs, even as iends qutned, gently, whether I was gay or not for takg dance class. So, I felt a need to do somethg “manly,” even though I had been part of the suburbs’ great pastime—soccer— the lol Catholic church league. Of urse, we need to take physils first to make sure we were healthy. While wag for one, all went wrong. I saw one of my iends om elementary school, Ali, so I sat down next to her. I thought she was cute, of urse, and liked her; she had lived my neighborhood, but she went out wh my iend, Dave, and not me. That was OK though. As we sat talkg, I did what awkward 12-year-old boys do to girls they like and teased her. It was not malic bee I had known her so long, but apparently seemed malic to some olr boys I didn’t know. They rose to her fense and began teasg me. It was savage. I pulled back to a fensive physil pose, holdg my right shoulr wh my right hand, which looked funny. But I was sred and fensive. They began to tease me for that awkward pose and said I looked like a girl and that I was a “femme.” Like most childhood trmas, I don’t remember how long I sat there as three boys told me I looked like a girl and asked me if I was gay. By the time I got home, I was broken. What began that day was six years of bullyg about my sexualy, lastg until I graduated high school.\r\nWhat Is Was Like Beg Bullied for Beg Gay When I’m Straight\r\nI am a straight, cis-genred male, so the bullyg was about who I wasn’t, not about who I was. However, was relentls. Middle school, like is for most people, was hell. I dread changg class bee if one of my tormentors saw me the hallways he’d scream, “FEMME! THAT KID’S A FEMME.” Some of the popular kids, who had been my iends, would shy away om me public spac, lt my low stat b off on them. The dreams I had of havg iends and beg popular were ad. Bee of middle school dynamics, my tormenters grew numbers as they roped their iends to their raveno wolfpack of sexualy-based bullyg. Several tim a day, while changg class, I endured screamed tnts and public huiatn. They didn’t have to touch me physilly bee they stroyed me emotnally. The sound of the bell rgg at the end of each class sent a shiver of terror down my spe bee I didn’t know if I’d be seen and tnted. I learned to change rout and flee, to keep my head down and hi, hopg that I would be unseen as I moved about my day. Eighth gra brought a severe se of chickenpox bee of urse did. It left me vered om head to toe sbs and pox marks. I remember now, wh shame, beg mean to another kid my class, who had bad ae, bee I wanted the foc off my sbs, supposed “femy” and homosexualy. The vic dynamics of that age and my sense of hopelsns ma me act celly sometim, even though never alleviated my torment. As wh seventh gra, I dread the end of the class bell, the b ri home, the random enunters at the mall. I did extracurricular activi every day, jt so I uld take the late b home om school to avoid my bulli.\r\nOnce the Bullyg Starts, It Don’t Stop\r\nNo matter what, one nnot flee forever. I always got ught. One event stands out. I had to take the regular b home one time, schleppg my heavy tenor saxophone. I got stuck stg near my tormentors bee of urse I did, wh my big se the aisle, my hand on the handle to keep om slidg. After endurg what felt like an eterny of slurs and sults, we arrived at the stop where a uple of them were gettg off. Each ma sure to step on the hand clutchg the handle to hurt me. I got home, went to my room and jt cried. I was cled to tear up when bullied, but this was one of those broken moments that etched self to my nscns forever. The mix of fear, rage at my powerlsns and sadns at my ongog huiatn didn’t often break me down, but, when did, I broke down hard. I endured middle school, earned high gras, was a good athlete and even had a girliend or two, though never for more than a few days—I always tried to hi her om the public lt my low stat her reputatn. I lived on high alert om my tormentors, aaid to date girls, though sperately wantg to do so bee of my ragg hormon. Still, I was ashamed of the ias those hormon engenred. It was a toxic stew and would not abate high school.\r\nThe Bullyg Even Had My Parents Thkg I Was Gay\r\nIn my first year high school, I had a specified lunch perd, as one do. Lunch had always been a sry time for me middle school, but I had luckily managed to avoid most of my tormentors. My luck would not hold. I was able to shelter among my sister’s olr iends through lunch, and tried to wear their skater inty as my own. I fally jt abandoned lunch and schled class place of lunch for my remag high school years—not the worst thg for an amic kid. It was around this time that my uncle died, and my parents somehow got wd of my torment. I’m not sure why wasn’t until high school, but the nversatn happened the r on the way home.  “But do you thk might be te? What did they say about you? Are you gay? Your uncle was gay,” my mom asked.  “No, mom, It hurts so much bee I am not gay, bee ’s not who I am.”  I don’t remember much more of the nversatn, but revealed somethg important about my recently ceased uncle. It was real, and filled me wh qutns about his life and ath.\r\nGettg Bullied at School Affects the Rt of Your Life\r\nFor three more years I endured abe. I was ually hungry om skippg my lunch perd and aaid to date girls, spe sperately wantg to; I worked as hard as I uld to be a great athlete and prove my manls. Some tormentors stopped. One even apologized bee his girliend, a iend, asked him to. Many more joed the actn. Durg the senr talent show, I was somehow asked to -host, and I dread . I’d spent years beg huiated the hallways and around town. If anyone screamed anythg, would be ont of an dience. They did, and I persisted anyway while ad si. The posive mpaign “It Gets Better” for gay youth was te for me, too. When I graduated, got better. However, I rry wh me ep emotnal wounds and a agily that manifts at random. Disappotments csh my spirs. I am still tryg to prove I am not gay, that I’m a straight, “appropriate” man.  I nnot image what LGBTQ+ youth feel, but I know their pa is real."}</script><meta name="next-head-unt" ntent="34"/><lk rel="preload" href="/_next/static/css/" as="style"/><lk rel="stylheet" href="/_next/static/css/" data-n-g=""/><lk rel="preload" href="/_next/static/css/" as="style"/><lk rel="stylheet" href="/_next/static/css/" data-n-p=""/><noscript data-n-css=""></noscript><script fer="" nomodule="" src="/_next/static/chunks/"></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/pag/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/chunks/pag/narrativ/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/CF-eoEFdZ_ylY8H7FgQ2M/" fer=""></script><script src="/_next/static/CF-eoEFdZ_ylY8H7FgQ2M/" fer=""></script></head><body><div id="__next" data-reactroot=""><div class="Toastify"></div><div class="bg-whe py-xs lg:py-sm Hear_hear__ubBbX relative z-50"><div class="ntent-width "><div class="flex flex-row ems-center"><button class="mr-xs lg:hidn leadg-0 foc:outle-none Hear_hamburgerButton__87mQF" aria-label="Open menu"><span class="Hear_hamburger__IDMFE text-black"><span class="Hear_hamburger__box__VZQzG"><span class="Hear_hamburger__ner__6Awt4 "></span></span></span></button><div style="visibily:hidn;transn:visibily 0s lear 500ms"><div class="fixed top-0 bottom-0 left-0 right-0 z-40 bg-black text-whe transn duratn-500 transform overflow-to -translate-x-full"><div class="flex flex-l m-h-screen pt-xs pb-sm px-md "><div><div class="flex ems-center jtify-between"><a tle="The Doe - Home" href="/"><svg viewBox="0 0 385 123" fill="none" xmlns=" width="150"><tle>The Doe Logo

when i was in first grade i thought i was gay