From a young age, I always knew there was a distinct separation between me and other boys my age. Because of my high-pitched feminine voice, I would constantly be discluded from the predominantly masculine activities that would take place during recess. I would endure harassment from my peers and had to seek comfort with girls since they were the only ones that didn't judge me for my feminine features. Along with the verbal torment came the repetitive question that got passed around the playground like it was a kickball. “Are you gay?” Me being a simple-minded second grader had no idea how to respond to this kind of inquiry. I had never understood the concept of homosexuality and now I was being faced with the persecution that I could be gay. As the years went on the question began to be asked more frequently and when I had finally reached my limit I confronted my mother. I had then asked her about the term that had invested itself into my childhood. My mother, who knew I was gay before I even came out of the womb, knew this day was coming and answered my question with open arms. Her response while supportive didn't supply me with the answers I had wanted at that very moment of time. The idea of homosexuality didn't return until eighth-grade when I was on the brink of entering high school.

Megan Maupin, who was one of my closest friends at the time and still is today, was at my house like usual on every Saturday afternoon in the summer. The sun was blazing, and Megan and I were outside playing volleyball in my front yard. We had developed a solid relationship during that summer and were growing closer by the minute. I had trusted Megan with all my secrets and I intended to trust her with my biggest one yet. I stopped playing and suspended the ball midair. Megan, who appeared confused with my sudden break in the game, began to question my motives. Silence ensued between us for what felt like years, my palms began to sweat and I developed a lump in my throat that indicated I was about to cry. I looked her in the eye and finally said, “I'm gay.” I anticipated Megan's response and prayed that our relationship wouldn't be tarnished because of my sexuality. Within seconds a grin engulfed Megan's face, and she began to cry. She, like my mother, knew I was gay from the moment I met her. She had just been waiting so long for me to utter those words and when I did, she became so overwhelmed with feelings of love and trust. Me and Megan’s friendship only grew stronger from this occurrence, and unlike in that very moment, in 6 months from then I would soon undergo the most traumatizing event of my teenage career.    
   

In February, my school had decided on doing High School Musical for the spring show. I had auditioned in hopes of landing any role they would give me, and I ended up receiving the famous character, Troy Bolton. I was thrilled to receive the lead in the production and couldn't wait to begin. After months of blood, sweat, and tears, the show ended, and it was time for the cast party. Here I was told by my peers to date one of the student directors of the production, who supposedly had a strong attraction toward me at the time. At this point, I had already revealed my sexuality to Megan, yet I was looking for any way to conceal my identity to the rest of my school, who had their own assumptions regarding my character. So, I decided from that moment that I was going to get a “beard.” For those of you who don't know, a beard is a woman that a closeted gay man dates to make him appear more masculine, hence the name beard. Either way, we began dating at the party and gained the attention of everyone attending. As soon as I embarked on my relationship with my “beard,” I felt an immediate guilt not only to her but to myself. I was concealing who I truly was and took shame in my action. After 5 minutes of us dating, my “beard” went to the restroom. It was during this time in which I confessed my sexuality to a few more close friends in hopes of them being able to assist me in my complex situation. They advised me, to be honest with her and reveal my true persona. I pulled her away from the party and began to talk with her outside. I could barely look at her in the face because of the embarrassment that engulfed my body with each word I spoke. I was bawling my eyes out at this point and felt nothing but remorse and grief, in fear that I had heart-broken one of my closest friends. However, she reacted quite the opposite, she comforted me and supported my decision to tell her. It wasn't until the next day of school when all my secrets would come out.
   

From the start of school the next day I could already see the sudden change of mood in my surroundings. In every class, I would notice slight gestures among my peers that were blatantly geared toward me. It wasn't until lunchtime when one of my friends from the cast party told me that word had gotten out about my big secret. I was broken. Shattered. Defeated. Lost. Confused. Hopeless. Every emotion I had ever felt all rolled up into one negative ball of horror. I ran into the gym, after receiving the news, and sat in the middle of the court where I pondered the outcome of this entire situation. I called my mother crying the hardest I ever have and told her to pick me up. I told her I wanted to change schools, leave the state, just something to get me as far away from that hell-hole as possible. My mom, shocked by my reaction to the day's events calmed me down and shared the greatest pep talk I have ever received. She told me I was strong enough to endure this; she told me I was kind and compassionate and continued with a list of compliments that relaxed me in my time of distress. Among all the accolades my mother gave me that day there was one in particular that stuck with me. She said, “being gay is just one of the things that make you Gavin, being gay doesn't define you as a person...you are loved by many, and that will remain the same whether or not you're out of the closet.” My mother's wisdom helped me build up enough courage to go to school the next day and face my new life as an openly gay teenager. I spent the day as if it was perfectly normal and it was. No one seemed to care enough to mock me of my sexuality or push me into the lockers like I thought they would. I had asked one of my friends what she had thought of my recent outage, and she informed me that the entire school had practically known since my first day there. She described my time of not being openly gay as a “glass closet.” I was deeply confused and intrigued by this statement and asked her to explain. She elaborated on the idea and informed me that a “glass closet” is when the person is not openly gay, but the character is so blatantly obvious that you can see right through their hiding.
       

While being outed by someone to the entire school wasn't necessarily my first pick of coming out I would never change what happened. I did suffer some fairly awful events but, those occurrences made me who I am today, and frankly, I'm happy with that person. Today I’m comfortable in my own skin and when someone asks the age-old question, “Are you gay,” I respond with an ear-to-ear grin and a yes. I'm not afraid of others and their distaste toward me. I am so surrounded by love and support from friends and family that there is no room left in my life for negativity. I'm happy. I'm gay. I’m Gavin.