The Gay Child

By Silas Scott

Perhaps now more than any time in recent history, Americans are debating issues around and trying to understand The Gay Child, Transgender kids, and gender expression. With the banning of books, and random laws meant to control teaching and the knowledge children seek to understand themselves and feel supported; truth and discussion around personal identity, equality, and the right to exist have become daily battles. LGBTQIA+ adults have a responsibility to speak and fight for those too young to have a voice, personal agency, and self-understanding. 

Silas Scott was an introverted, overly-religious, child of the 70s; growing up in the fading era of the free love culture. Isolated in a small town, he tried (perhaps in vain) to hide the fact that he was Gay from his large and loving but dogmatically conservative family. He turned to animals, books, TV, and a few female family elders for understanding and slow self-discovery. 

His imagination and exploration lead to writing, drawing, singing, and other creative endeavors. Wild years of partying and awkward socialization with his discovered tribe and chosen family settled into quieter self-actualization and marriage in his middle years. 

He now tries to find justice and authenticity for his troubled past lives by protecting and helping those in the current world. This book is an attempt to provide insight for all those parents, siblings, friends, and other family members seeking to understand what it's like to be a Gay child. The content isn't appropriate for young children, but hopefully will assist Gay teens and adults to recognize the feelings and experiences many of us share in common. Some of Mr. Scott's story is likely unique to him, but stereotypes exist for a reason, and there things about being a Gay child in our society that are mostly universal. This book is meant to expand empathy and remind readers that love is love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independently Published
• Release date: Oct 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215894712

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

I was a Gay child.

This is what qualifies me to write about this topic. There is much in today’s news to cause me to worry about LGBT kids and to fear for Gay and Transgender people in general.

In this era of Trumpism, despite having a Democrat President at the moment, much in the news and public discourse is causing confusion and unrest around the topics of sexual orientation, gender identity, and gender expression.

There are still no actual laws that specifically protect the human rights and equality of Gay and Trans or Queer people. Hopefully, the proposed legislation to codify same-sex marriage and interracial marriage will pass and become law. Time will tell.

So in some regards, being an educated, informed, adult Gay person is more fear-inducing than it was to be a Gay child.

When you are a kid, knowing that you differ from your family and classmates in some important and fundamental way that you can’t explain is terrifying. We are tribal. It is instinctive to wish to fit in. To be the same.

This is why the very old argument that being Gay is a choice—a lifestyle choice—is absurd. No one would choose to be an outcast. To lose family. Sometimes your parents, your oldest and closest friendships, your classmates, church, your God. These people are an especially primal need for a child. Necessary for survival, not just security and acceptance. But many Queer kids don’t have the acting ability—the camouflage—to hide their true identity. Sometimes they don’t even know their environment demands it until it’s too late. That’s why so many LGBTQ kids are homeless or dead (from suicide.) The adults they believe they can depend on through ANY scenario; having been strongly programmed by older generations, religion, societal mores, and even laws—fail to do the right thing. To love and protect their children UNCONDITIONALLY and at ALL costs. It’s tragic, it’s weakness, and it’s misguided.

Sometimes, the adults realize later they were wrong and make amends. Becoming the guardians (the sanctuary) they should always have been. Sometimes they never do, and the Gay child is forced to make their own way in the world with the help of chosen family. It is tragic for everyone involved, but adults can reach out to the resources available for help. Kids may not know how to do that, and ultimately their parents have control over them, and to a large degree can isolate them from potential helpers. This is a reason that so many Gay people don’t come out until they are self-reliant, living on their own, and supporting themselves. Usually, as adults. Suppressing your natural identity and avoiding romantic and close relationships until this unnaturally late stage has many damaging long term (sometimes permanent) effects. Life (which always has challenges) is magnitudes more difficult for a Gay child.

However, you assume that acceptance or tolerance from that small group of people (whom you hopefully believe loves you) is really all you need to make a life in the world. To be accepted by society at large.

You do not know that there are laws that govern some of the most basic aspects of life. Laws and social mores that can affect your ability to marry the person you love. Whether you can work to financially support yourself. That determine whether you can adopt children. Whether you will be tolerated in your church—allowed to serve your God in a public capacity. You probably don’t understand that your home or car might be vandalized if people know too much about you. It is likely beyond your imagination that someone might beat you up or even kill you just for being yourself.

When your age reaches double digits, and you begin to understand that the kind of discrimination—the unbridled fear and hatred labeled by judges, doctors, and knowledgeable people as transphobia and homophobia—not only exists, but in many places is more acceptable and normal than being Gay; you learn you were right to be afraid. Being a Queer person isn’t safe—even in America.

So, the fears that occupy your mind so much of the time as a Gay child are justified. No one wants to live a life of shame and terror, and no one should have to.

The Gay child’s worries are about losing love, of not fitting in, and sometimes about disappointing God.

The Gay adult has usually found a way of navigating or at least living with those issues. And hopefully they have found Queer community. But rather than their fears fading into the past, they are usually over-written by more self-confidence. By self-actualization that brings some peace and the kind of fluctuating, ever-evolving happiness that most grownups enjoy. However, these respites from insecurity and self-doubt and trauma are always temporary. At least for anyone paying attention. For all the people who live outside the small Gay meccas that exist sporadically in some cities. Because the observant know that the law is still not truly on our side. Court interpretation isn’t always permanent. And there are dangerous people; too often spurred on by politicians and religious leaders with their own agendas. People that are dangerous because they fear what they do not understand or are desperate to feel superior to someone. To anyone. Every Gay adult has a Gay child living inside of them. And we have to try to heal them. We can tell them, It gets better. But, we can’t guarantee their safety. We can’t promise everything will be okay. Sometimes you can ignore it for long stretches, downplay it, but the trauma continues. The only thing I can say with certainty is: God loves you as you are Little Gay Child.

If you enjoy or are informed by my perspective and experience, you may wish to check out the other memoirs I’ve written. They cover a variety of very specific topics, but because they are my personal stories, some will be repeated in some form or to some degree. There will be some overlap. However, if you are interested in the particular topic of the specific book, you will find knowledge, opinions, and insights. I hope each book will help you or provide a point of view you find valuable.

CHAPTER 1

My Childhood:

Luck or divine selection—I'm not sure which—determined the parents to which I was born, but I was blessed. I was the first child of happily married young parents, and I was wanted. My only biological sibling—a brother—came two years later. We lived in a trailer home on top of a hill. Our parents adored us. We had kind babysitters, grandparents nearby, and countless cousins in our age range. My brother and I were as different as night and day. I was the bashful, introverted one. Obsessed with animals and making art. He was the future athlete, with no attention span and too hyperactive to sit still. He was always outside and on the go.

My first memory is as an infant. I was in a carrier—what would someday evolve into the baby car seat. My parents sat me briefly on the ground as they were loading the car or something. A black and white or calico cat came over to investigate what I was. I clearly remember the cat, slightly larger than me, looming over me as it inspected the contents of the carrier. I don't remember being afraid—just curious. One of my parents quickly intervened, and we were on our way.

The next thing I remember is my dad coming to see me where I was staying with my beloved grandparents. My mom had been in the hospital for a few days and I was two years old. It pissed me off. I had been unable to see her, and when she returned home, she was bringing a baby brother. I didn't even want to meet him. He was already consuming all of my mother's time and attention, and my father was entirely too excited about him coming to live with us. I remember that if the baby had been a girl (no one knew until birth back then) it was to be named Amy. So to demonstrate my displeasure with the newbie, I insisted on calling him Amy for a bit. I don't remember much about him as a baby, but I had soon accepted him and made peace with the situation.

He wasn't like me. I was the epitome of shyness. Reserved and perfectly behaved. My bubby was out-going and boisterous. Despite our differences, we got along to the degree that is typical in a two child family—especially when the two must always share a room and a bed.

My next distinctive memory is of starting kindergarten. I went half-days. I didn't want to go, but I already knew my cousins, and the elderly teacher was the sister of one of our babysitters—so I quickly adjusted.

In those days, pre-K and daycare did not yet exist. When kindergarten began (at 5 years old) I had not yet learned any of the basics, beyond maybe the alphabet and counting to ten. There was much to learn, and that fascinated me. We spent much of the day in games and free play so that we could learn socialization and how to be part of a community.

We were mostly intelligent kids with a similar background, so we got along pretty well, and the adjustment was fairly smooth.