I don't know why.

There was an article in the South Bend Tribune the other day that focused on a report that homosexuality may be linked to birth order. Apparently, the odds for being a homosexual male go up as your birth order number increases. I just thought, “bullshit.” I’m the first and I have no younger brothers. The article did get me thinking about a subject that comes up in my head quite often. Where does homosexuality come from? Is it nurture or nature? To tell you the truth, I don’t quite know for certain. With my own experience, I can certainly entertain the notion that it might be nurture. So I am going to share something with you all that I have never told anyone else.

I have been sexually abused. I wasn’t raped or anything like that so I am hesitant to say that I was abused. I was only a few years old when the first thing I remember happened. I’m even surprised that I remember it. I was living in Germany at the time and a friend of a family member took me into the bathroom. I didn’t have to go at the time but she pulled down my pants and then she pulled down hers and told me to stick my dick in her. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I remained soft and was only able to hold it up to her spot. It wouldn’t go in. She must’ve realized that this wasn’t such a good idea so we dressed back up and she told me never to tell anyone. So I didn’t. For a while, I just thought it was a weird thing she wanted me to do.

My dad got stationed in Florida after Germany and we ended living at the naval housing at Key West. My mother used to hang out with a bunch of other Filipinos that were there. I was allowed to roam a bit at the park that was there and sometimes I was in the care of this one guy. I remember him kissing me. These were long, lingering, wet kisses on the mouth. I liked it. After a few “sessions” he stopped. I asked him why and he said, that he shouldn’t do it anymore.

While I was still there in Key West, an older neighbor boy came over to my house. It was odd as he never played with any of my friends or I. Seeing as all my other friends were not around and I was doing nothing but writing on the pavement with sidewalk chalk, I eagerly accepted his offer to hang around. We ended up going into my house where we played fort using the couch and a sheet. In the darkness, he asked me how I wanted to be kissed. We frenched so that we were quiet. We did it for a while and even moved to the bedroom. I can remember how good it felt. It was like exploring and I remember how intrigued I was about how sometimes, if we didn’t coordinate just right, our teeth would bump together. Then he stopped, pull downed his pants and said that we should suck each other. I stared. I wanted to do it but thought that it could be gross because that’s where your pee came out. I said that I didn’t want to. It killed the mood. I wanted to go back to kissing but he didn’t. I even offered to go ahead and suck him if we could start kissing again. It didn’t happen.

There was Jon, but he belongs in another post.

With all that had happened in those years, I wonder if my sexuality is the result of them. For a while now, I have come to the realization that it doesn’t really matter how I ended up the way I am. I am gay and as far as I can remember, I always have been. I go back to the day when I was asked how I wanted to be kissed. I remember what went though my head and I know that I what I felt for other boys was gay. Maybe it was nature all along.

I don’t think the question should be about where homosexuality comes from. I’m more concerned about why it should or shouldn’t be accepted.

Thank you.

Yesterday I went to the library in town to do a few things: email some high res photos, study a little for the LSATs and donate the book, The Full Spectrum, which was mentioned in the previous post. I was emotionally moved by some of the stories and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to let go of it. Since finishing it up a few weeks ago, it has remained in limbo (my backpack.) Would it join the rest of my books in my bookcase, or would it join the thousands more in the public library?

I only became aware of this book through Brian’s site. In his post, he challenged his readers to make the book donation. I never felt I should donate because of his challenge but I think that his intentions mirrored mine which eventually popped up. Books that deal with queer issues are not easy to come by in the surrounding communities. If the book finds its way into one other person’s hand, then I feel it was worth the awkwardness (continued below.) I keep imagining that closeted youth, finding the book, going to a quiet corner, and reading it. It’s a bit romantic, but I hope that I did a little something to advance our cause even though I still feel a little on the outside.


The longest three seconds of my life:

As I was leaving the library to go home, I went up to the circulation desk. Now, I’ve seen this same lady work the desk for quite a few years. We may not know each other, but we definitely recognize each other.

“May I make a book donation?” Oh yes, I practiced this line so often in my head that I made sure to get the grammar correct.

“Sure!” The lady replied almost too enthusiastically.

Gulping, I opened my bag, pulled out the book, and laid it out in front of her. I made sure to watch her face and see the reaction. With her big smile and lit up eyes, she picked up the book and began to read the title.

“Okay,” big pause, “thanks…”

She never looked back up at me and I turned to go.

“Thanks,” I said.

As I opened the door, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her take the book and lay it on a chair behind the desk. I wondered if that book would ever go into circulation.