The cyber-bullies have been out in force again over the past couple of weeks.   This time, the target has been 12 year old Ronan Parke, a contestant on the UK reality TV show Britain’s Got Talent. So, what did he do to bring attention to himself? Well, he ‘looks and acts gay’.

The extent of interest in Ronan’s sexuality has led to google auto-suggesting that he is indeed ‘gay’. In addition, a google search reveals queries not only in relation to his sexuality, but also his gender. To top it all off, on the evening of the Britain’s Got Talent final, Twitter was awash with homophobic Ronan Parke tweets.  

This is a 12 year old child we’re talking about. I’ve been shocked by it, but I can’t say I’m surprised considering that the Internet provides protection in the form of anonymity to anyone who wishes to spew hate filled diatribe.

I was an effeminate child, and I can’t imagine having to deal with all that crap being thrown at me.

When I played with my Action Man doll, it was to role-play Barbie’s date for the evening.  My best Christmas was when I got the Crystal Palace (She’Ra’s awesome pink home) and a full set of She-Ra figurines. She-Ra was He-Man’s twin sister, therefore I could dabble in doll-play without acquiring the angered scowl of my parents.

I was a target for bullies at school, to the point where I attempted to train myself to act more straight. I altered my then high pitched squeaky voice, and became mindful of my mannerisms, altering any that might give cause for alarm. I was being called ‘poof’ and ‘faggot’ long before I had any inclination that I was gay. I thought those terms referred to someone who preferred to do girly things rather than boyish things. I had no idea that there was any sexual meaning.  

I grew up in a Roman Catholic household, in an environment were being gay was not on. Therefore when I finally discovered my sexuality, I almost bore holes on my knees praying to God to resolve the situation. I even trained as an altar boy at the local church to get into God’s good books. However, I was more fond of the robes I wore than the Church though, which really should have given me an indication that my Church-fest wasn’t working out.  

When I finally got to grips with my sexuality, it was no thanks to all the people who had made it difficult for me.

What is the point to my ranting? Being the ‘different’ one was difficult then, without the Internet. At least when I got home from school in the evening, I could block out the bullies. For today’s kids, I imagine there is little escape. What with Facebook, Twitter and whatever other social network they are on, the bullies have an extra edge on them.

The frightening thing is that in regards to Ronan Parke, it is entirely possible and likely that both kids and adults are posting those horrible messages.

I would like to give them all a kick up the arse!  

It’s that time of year again, May 17. As the campaigns role out for their final day, I thought I’d share a few personal thoughts.

My personal journey has not been about changing others attitudes (except when I do HIV work), but rather about changing the ones that have been etched into me since my childhood.

The Jesuit maxim remains true: give me the child 'til the age of seven, and I will show you the man. If the time to mould a child in to the adult you want for a life time – personally I’d call it brainwashing – is true, then imagine growing up always being on the outside.

I was a sickly kid with asthma. Getting HIV was nothing as I grew up medicalized from day one. The nurses at the Children’s Hospital were better friends to me than anyone at school where I always stood outside even the earliest cliques.

Fellow students, even in the early grades, never included me in recess.  Then came the bullying. The daily harassment began about the age 13. I’ll spare all but one of the details as we all have our stories.

One thing was my voice. I was mocked regularly. It didn’t take long for me to hate my voice, which is an extension of my physical presence. Since I was told I was worthless everyday at school, and even my voice was bad, I shut it down.

For years people would say, “Speak up, you’re mumbling.”

Years later, the quiet voices of the past haunt me in everything I do. Yet, I’ve worked hard to rebel against those voices by throwing myself into public speaking and other activities that say “I’m not a shy, insecure person.” But really, I am. It surprises people sometimes because they buy in to whatever public persona I’ve had.

As I rebelled I created very large safety bubbles to be in. Yes it’s easy to be in your face with everything in the gay community, the recovery community, etc. But step outside of that and the old tapes start playing loudly in your head.

This has been what I’ve been doing lately, stepping, if not leaping, outside the protective zones I’ve created.

I’ve decided to convert to Judaism. It is an intensely personal and private decision. My attempts at writing about it have always gotten deleted. Yes there are some things in life for which I have reverence.

One reason for hesitation is responses such as:, “Oh I hope not, you know what they're like.” And in response to going to Israel, “I’d never give them any of my money.” That is from someone I know and respect, but maybe a little less now.

The progressive liberal lefty folks I’ve gotten to know are very cool, and for the first time in my life I’m working at ditching my internalized self-hate.

Here’s a group of people where I can simply be myself outside of my bubble and be respected. Yet it’s been a process to get to where I’m at today.

The two subjects that caused me internal conflict were:

a. Work:

This means revealing very residually my HIV status, since I publish a website for people living with HIV. I’d painfully skirt around that one. Yes, me Mr “Out”

It’s usually because of the ensuing questions. When I went to somewhere else, someone asked me what conference I was going to, and I replied that is was an International AIDS conference

The response: What are you sick?

b. Gay:

I’ve had assumptions made about sexuality, and you know while mingling over some hummus and bread, I don’t really feel like getting into that either, but this may be changing.

The transition began two weeks ago where I’m sitting at a house with a bunch of Kensington Market hippy Jews mostly in their 20s and 30s.

The same question comes up in a one-on-one conversation, and I squirt by it. Then later on, as group, while chatting, it comes up and I straight up and tell them. Their reaction: Wow that’s really cool.

Every second Friday night I attend this group called Makom, which is headed up by this very cool & young (in his 30s) Rabbi who moved here from New York. There is no physical location for this group and we meet wherever we can. The last few weeks it’s been in an artist's studio on College st.

Most who attend are in their 30s, some younger, some older. Last Friday night the rabbi asked me over for Shabbat dinner. I feel a moment of anxiety come over me, but then it faded.

At the table, the rabbi is sitting next to me and we start chatting. The subject of work comes up, and I tell him what I do. I also told him two weeks ago I wouldn’t have told him as once I get outside of my protective world and I don’t know someone, I put up a wall.

“Why’s that?”

“Because of the HIV and the ensuring questions and assumptions.,”

Then I said to him, “At some point I have to take the walls down and be real.”

I felt free. My experience in the progressive Jewish community has been such a liberating world.

The discussion at the table at one point drifted to the gay couple on Modern Family, and how this one woman loved them as they were so much in love, in her view.

Rebelling against my true nature and shyness of the past never did get rid of the old baggage. Who knew that finally I’d tackle these issues through what seemed a completely unrelated path.. This has been one of the beautiful unexpected consequences for this personal journey I’ve been on.

These are my thoughts on International Homophobia Day.

What are yours?

So here in the United States of America, the southern states, (those below the Mason Dixon line) are known throughout history as being very intolerant of minorities. Thosestates are also notorious for being anti-gay, and now one state in particular, Tennessee, has taken this to a whole new level of ridiculous-ness!

Earlier this year the Tennessee state senate introduced the “Don't Say Gay” bill, which would, make it unlawful to say the words “gay” and “homosexuality”, or even discuss the topic in Tennessee schools.

On April 21, 2011, the bill was passed by the Tennessee State Senate by a vote of 6-3.

When I was growing up, my family lived in Clarksville, Tennessee. I attended public school there, and I remember there were some pretty strict rules as to what was and was not allowed  For example, boys attending my middle school (grades 6-8) were not permitted to have a long or even shaggy haircut. A boy could be suspended from school for showing up with a pierced ear. In fact the only jewelry a boy was permitted to wear was a necklace bearing a cross or some other acceptable religious symbol. I remember one boy in my class being forced to remove his Star of David necklace because it was not a school-authorized jewelry item. So this new “Don't Say Gay” bill does not entirely surprise me.

What it does do is scare the hell out of me. Middle school is a very difficult time for any kid. Puberty sneaks up on you, your face gets taken over by acne, your voice starts to squeak and you start getting hairy in places that were bald before. Add to that feelings, both physical and emotional, that you have never felt before and you have the perfect recipe for a neurotic adolescent boy.

To make matters worse, middle school is a bully's paradise. I know. I was there! I was short, had a super squeaky voice and more body hair than any of the other boys in gym class. Let me tell you, it's loads of fun to have all the other boys in the boys locker room start scratching themselves and hooting and hollering like monkeys at you when it was shower time. I went from feeling like I was all grown up to a circus freak in seconds flat! And on top of that, being gay. I imagine Dante's Inferno an amusement park compared to a middle school boy's locker room.

And now those scared, picked on gay boys (and girls) have absolutely no hope of solace. Let’s face it, not very many boys at 12 or 13 are going to go to their Mom and Dad and say “I'm getting picked on cause I'm hairy and gay!” Most would rather face the torment than do that. I know that was the case with for me.

And now the state of Tennessee says that these kids can't even talk to a school counselor or teacher about what is going on with their bodies and emotions. They are to be left stumbling blindly around in the middle school jungle all alone. And people are shocked by the extremely high adolescent/teen suicide rate we are seeing in this country? What do you expect when our kids are reaching out for our help and the law says we have to turn our backs on them?

As gay people, we have made great strides since the Stonewall Riots of 1969. Legislation like this pushes us back a few steps, and a few steps is all it takes to crumble four decades of fighting for equality. If we have any moral fibre at all we will not stand for that!

Thank you for reading.

XXOO Danny