be a dramatic and proud moment, like those stories we see on TV or in movies. You know, the ones where the gay kid summons up the courage and makes a heroic stand. Like declaring into the microphone minutes after being declared prom king that, guess what, the prom king is gay, and thatâs all right because heâs really the same guy you just voted for! And then, after a few unsettling moments when all the students nervously look around at one another, a slow, small clap begins to fill the silenceâand then, suddenly, that clapping breaks out into frenzied applause until the newly out gay prom king is hoisted off the stage, onto the shoulders of his friends, and triumphantly carried out the door to an upbeat pop song that lets the audience know that only great things lie ahead!
What actually happened wasnât like that.
There was no grand announcement.
There wasnât even an in-person announcement.
The coming out of Jack Andraka was announced via text message.
Thatâs right. I came out via text message. LOL.
I fired off the text to Logan. It was simple, direct, and to the point. âI am gay,â I wrote.
The most dramatic moment came before tapping the âsendâ button. Believe me, that was hard.
Logan didnât act surprised at all to receive my text confession. In fact, she acted like she already knew. She was just happy that I had told her the truth.
That went well! Maybe I was onto something. I told her to spread the word. And she did.
As soon as that text was delivered, I felt a small bit of relief and a lot of terror.
What will my friends say?
What will my teachers say?
Clinging to the chance that this actually might work, I waited. I didnât have to wait for very long. The next day I went to school and the entire student body was talking about my sexuality. Instead of winning over my classmates and teachers as I had hoped, it only made me more of a target.
Now it wasnât just students who ignored me, but after word of my sexuality had circulated throughout the faculty room, some of the teachers wouldnât talk to me either. And those times when someclassmates did acknowledge my existence, it was to address me by my new name.
Fag.
People called me a fag. Usually behind my back. Sometimes to my face. Looking back, it was hard to tell which was worse. But almost as bad as the name-calling were the persistent looks of disgust I saw out of the corner of my eye every time I walked down the halls.
The jocks were the worst. I avoided them whenever possible, but every week when it came time for gym class, I knew I was in for another round.
âJack, why are you so gay?â one classmate asked.
âWhy are you so bad at math?â I lamely responded.
Iâd try to look away and signal that the conversation was over, but it never worked.
âDid you hear about that gay kid that got beat up?â he asked with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
I ignored him. But I knew what he was talking about. In school we had discussed a story about a young man who had been beaten up for being gay. He was beaten so severely that he ended up in the hospital. They never caught the people who did it.
âYouâre next!â he shouted.
Thereâs just no place for me in this world.
I needed to visit Uncle Ted in the worst way. He had beenhospitalized since the beginning of the year. I tried to see him as much as possible, but somehow a few weeks had slipped by without a visit. I hadnât told him of the problems I was having, but now I was thinking it was time to come clean. If anyone could point me in the right direction, it was Uncle Ted. He always knew what to say.
As soon as I walked into the hospital room, I was taken off guard by how dramatically his appearance had changed. Although it had been only four or five weeks since I had last seen him, it looked like he had aged twenty years. All his hair was gone, and he was thin and pale.
âHi,
What actually happened wasnât like that.
There was no grand announcement.
There wasnât even an in-person announcement.
The coming out of Jack Andraka was announced via text message.
Thatâs right. I came out via text message. LOL.
I fired off the text to Logan. It was simple, direct, and to the point. âI am gay,â I wrote.
The most dramatic moment came before tapping the âsendâ button. Believe me, that was hard.
Logan didnât act surprised at all to receive my text confession. In fact, she acted like she already knew. She was just happy that I had told her the truth.
That went well! Maybe I was onto something. I told her to spread the word. And she did.
As soon as that text was delivered, I felt a small bit of relief and a lot of terror.
What will my friends say?
What will my teachers say?
Clinging to the chance that this actually might work, I waited. I didnât have to wait for very long. The next day I went to school and the entire student body was talking about my sexuality. Instead of winning over my classmates and teachers as I had hoped, it only made me more of a target.
Now it wasnât just students who ignored me, but after word of my sexuality had circulated throughout the faculty room, some of the teachers wouldnât talk to me either. And those times when someclassmates did acknowledge my existence, it was to address me by my new name.
Fag.
People called me a fag. Usually behind my back. Sometimes to my face. Looking back, it was hard to tell which was worse. But almost as bad as the name-calling were the persistent looks of disgust I saw out of the corner of my eye every time I walked down the halls.
The jocks were the worst. I avoided them whenever possible, but every week when it came time for gym class, I knew I was in for another round.
âJack, why are you so gay?â one classmate asked.
âWhy are you so bad at math?â I lamely responded.
Iâd try to look away and signal that the conversation was over, but it never worked.
âDid you hear about that gay kid that got beat up?â he asked with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
I ignored him. But I knew what he was talking about. In school we had discussed a story about a young man who had been beaten up for being gay. He was beaten so severely that he ended up in the hospital. They never caught the people who did it.
âYouâre next!â he shouted.
Thereâs just no place for me in this world.
I needed to visit Uncle Ted in the worst way. He had beenhospitalized since the beginning of the year. I tried to see him as much as possible, but somehow a few weeks had slipped by without a visit. I hadnât told him of the problems I was having, but now I was thinking it was time to come clean. If anyone could point me in the right direction, it was Uncle Ted. He always knew what to say.
As soon as I walked into the hospital room, I was taken off guard by how dramatically his appearance had changed. Although it had been only four or five weeks since I had last seen him, it looked like he had aged twenty years. All his hair was gone, and he was thin and pale.
âHi,
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