It Gets Better (17 page)

After that trip I was nothing other than who I am today. It didn't change me; it didn't define me; it was just that part of who I am was finally able to emerge. I found acceptance and I found love. So for anybody who's having a sleepless night or a sad day, or has some asshole picking on them, just know that you're going to wind up way better off than that asshole. They'll probably get really fat and lose their hair; it'll be a nightmare for that person. But you're going to be okay, because it gets better. I promise.

STAMFORD, CT

 

 

 

I
am a happy sixteen-year-old girl with a great group of friends, but when I was younger I always seemed to be the odd one out among the kids in my neighborhood. I was rarely invited over to play, until one of the kids' parents would demand that I be included. I assumed it was just because they could only have a few people over at a time, or it was a family thing, until I got older and realized I wasn't being included because I wasn't like them. Eventually, they just cut me out of their lives all together.

I was told middle school was going to provide a fresh start. That everything was going to be great because I would be able to change everything and magically make it all better. That wasn't the case. I felt like a newborn infant being thrown into a tidal wave. It all started off crazy and scary: getting my first locker, moving from classroom to classroom, making new friends, or at least trying to. And then I met my future worst enemy, my first bully. His name was Alex and he was about my height and weight and was actually nice to me after school that first day. But as the days went by, he started calling me names like “Big Red,” “Ginger,” “Freak,” and anything else he could think of.

Alex bullied me by calling me names, commenting on my clothing and the way I looked in general. He made me want to stay in bed all day and hide from the world. I was scared to walk into school and hear what he would say next. I did not know who to turn to, so I ventured off into the world of theater. And that is where I found my true home—a place I felt safe and where I could be myself. I got a lead role after my first audition, and felt that I could really show people that I was actually someone who was passionate about something. I wanted to prove to Alex that I wasn't a “nothing” like he always told me I was. I continued to shine on the stage, unafraid to go all out.

I still wanted to fit in, which meant having a boyfriend like all the other eighth-grade girls. I'd had crushes but it didn't seem like any of the boys liked me back. I thought there was something wrong with me. And then I began to wonder, “Do I even like boys?” I was scared of what the real answer might be. I didn't say anything to anyone about these thoughts and feelings that I was suddenly having. Then, during the summer after eighth grade, I was sleeping over at a friend's house. It was all fine until she kissed me. I instantly called my mom to pick me up. I did not understand what had just happened. I knew what it was like to kiss someone because people had dared me to before. But I didn't know what it was like to kiss a girl. I didn't think it was wrong but I was afraid that maybe she would think that it was a mistake. I couldn't help but smile as I got into the car to go home. I couldn't deny it, it felt right.

That summer came to an end and it was time for me to go to high school. I was entering a massive school that both my sister and mom had attended and loved. It started off amazing and I was enjoying it until I started struggling with grades and all of the normal things that happen in your first year of high school.

I wasn't happy. Something was missing and I didn't know what, until I met the girl that would be my best friend. She was awesome. I could be myself around her and we shared the same curiosity. Actually, she wasn't curious. She knew she was bisexual. We never had anything beyond friendship, but after meeting her, I was able to proudly say that I was bisexual. She helped me realize that it was normal to feel what I was feeling. I was afraid to tell my parents about my sexuality until halfway through my sophomore year. When I finally did tell my mom, she was completely fine with it. I think she thought it was just a phase. I think she still does. I didn't tell my dad, though. I was afraid to for some reason, and still kind of am.

I began hating that school. The teachers did not seem to care too much if you were doing your best, and the students did not care at all. They were also extremely rude. When I walked down the halls, it turned into middle school all over again, with people calling me names and even occasionally shoving me into lockers. I knew that I deserved better. I wanted to be in a better environment so I could go to a good college. I transferred to a new school—an all-girls, private school. Girls at my school know that I am bisexual and are completely okay with it. I know who I am and am truly happy with the person I have become. Finding my true sexuality has changed my life and I wouldn't change anything that I went through for the world. I have found who I really am and I am happy now. And that is all that matters.

LOS ANGELES, CA

 

 

 

G
rowing up is really hard, and when you're an LGBT youth, it's even more difficult. You can feel like you're the only person like you in the world. Maybe you're dealing with bullying in school or judgment from your family, and it's really easy to get into the mindframe that life is never going to get better—that this is what it's going to be like and I'm always going to feel like an outsider. I'm always going to feel bad about myself.

I just want to let you know that it gets better. When you grow up, you realize that you're not alone and that there are lots and lots of people—communities of people just like you—who are willing to embrace you and support you and love you. You just need to hang around and wait for that magic to happen, because life is really great. Even when you're different, life is really a wonderful thing.

I've gone through a lot of that stuff, of really feeling different. I only came out as a transgender man about a year and half ago. So, even as an adult, I was living with this secret and feeling weird. And I got it out and now I feel great. I've been embraced by a new community. That's what happens when you're finally honest about who you are; you find others like you.

I have a wonderful life. I have a wonderful partner who I've been with for over five years now. Yet if I had let any of the fear that I had at different points throughout my life—in high school, feeling different (even feeling different as another person)—if I had done something drastic then, I would have missed out on the best times of my life. Don't let anybody tell you that there's something wrong with you if you're different. There's not. So hang in there and just remember it does get better.

WASHINGTON, DC

 

 

 

H
ello. I'm Speaker Nancy Pelosi. Today, to anyone who feels different, to those of you who feel lost or think you don't fit in, to those who feel singled out because of who you are, I add my voice to the chorus of parents, friends, teachers, mentors, and leaders in your neighborhoods and across the country, to say: It gets better. You are not alone.

As a mother and a grandmother, I want to tell you that a better tomorrow awaits, filled with opportunity, with hope, with the promise of success, with respect, and progress for all. There are resources and people ready to help.

In America's rich history, we've overcome barriers and obstacles before: for women, and for religious, racial, and ethnic minorities. And we are doing it again for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender Americans.

During this challenging time for so many, you should know that I am on your side. In the Congress, we are striving to advance our nation's pledge of equality, our heritage and our hope. That is why we passed a fully inclusive hate-crimes bill, ensuring protections for the LGBT community alongside all Americans. And now it is the law of the land.

In our communities, homes, and schools, and as a country, we must state clearly that bigotry and bullying have no place in our society. Bullying contradicts our American values and our aspirations. Diversity is an American strength.

We will overcome the forces of prejudice and hatred among us. We will build a future that welcomes every family and every child, regardless of background or sexual orientation. We will foster the talents, hopes, and dreams of all of our young people. Together, united, we will remind our LGBT youth and all Americans: It gets better.

NEW YORK, NY

 

 

 

 

A
s a seventeen-year-old youth who was in quite a bit of despair, I attempted to kill myself.

I'm very happy today that that attempt was unsuccessful. But, at the time, it was all that I could contemplate. I thought I needed to end things right then. And I have to tell you that when I woke up the next morning, after taking more than a hundred pills, I was in a whole other level of despair. I thought, “I shouldn't be here. This isn't what was meant to be.” I, frankly, just wanted to start life all over again.

There are people who can help you. You cannot do this alone; that's another very profound message that I want to give to
all
of you. It really requires collaboration between you and the people who love you, the people who you can depend upon—no matter who they are—as mentors. In my case, it took a very serious intervention to help me. And it was the result of the botched suicide attempt—to be blunt.

I am a huge advocate for the Trevor Project. The Trevor Project is a suicide-prevention hotline for LGBT and questioning youth. Please visit their website (
thetrevorproject.org
) and seek them out. Your identity will be protected; you don't have to worry about getting parents involved. I understand the desperation. I understand the despair. And I understand how isolated you can feel. People really care about you, and I'm included in that group. So reach out, get help. You're not alone. It will get better!

I promise.

LONDON , ENGLAND

 

 

 

I
am a gay man who loves his life. I have a career that I love. I've got a partner that I adore beyond all comprehension. And I am surrounded by friends and family and a community who accept me and support me for who I am.

But it wasn't always so. Growing up I had a real tough time. By the age of thirteen, I was bullied so much so that I didn't want to go to school anymore. It seemed that everyone else in the world knew that I was gay before I did. There was something about me that some of the kids didn't like, and, boy, did they let me know about it. I was picked on; I was tormented; I was called names; I was beaten up because I was gay.