Grade 10, Providence Academy
If somebody in my community asked me, “Why are you gay?” I wouldn’t be able to give them a proper answer or excuse that would satisfy them. Why was I like this? I had no idea. For the past seventeen years of my life, I have never felt comfortable in my own skin. It seems like when other people were born, they were already comfortable with their own skin and body being given whichever gender they belong to. I was born male, being given the name Felix and having my pronouns decided for me, being he and him, as if to say there was nothing beyond me. What if I’m okay with that, what if I feel like “he”, but I don’t display the masculine personality a male is meant to have? Of course, these were thoughts I kept to myself. I had never dreamt of telling my family the real truth of who I truly was, because my physical state and information were enough to convince people of my gender and what was I meant to be. Coming from a very religious family of God-fearing Christians, my sexual orientation would only be seen as a sin. I would not tell my father; he would kick me out of the house for coming out of the closet. I thought of telling my four brothers but remembered how they got at me for my obvious feminine energy, as if it was not enough that they were my father’s favourites for being so tough and manly, and loving anything that had to do with violence. I even contemplated telling Mbalentle, or Rosie as I called her. She was my stepmother; I tragically lost my biological mother to cancer. Rosie was the most understanding person in my entire life, but despite that I feared she would not understand.
As I walked into the chemistry class, I felt a surge of emotions running through me. This class has a memory that will forever be engraved in my mind. This was the class that made me. On the 2nd of June 2022, I walked into this class, the same set up, the same white walls with posters of chemical formulae and the periodic table of elements at the back of the room, the same nostalgic air of paint and ink. The only difference was that my table was occupied by someone at the same window seat which was my favourite side to sit. He was Lukhanyi, a new student, and he truly made my heart skip a beat the moment I laid eyes on him, and I’m guessing he felt the same because he seemed rather happy to have me as his desk partner, and we instantly hit it off. We were always together at school, and even after school, until we decided to take our relationship to the next level by dating without the knowledge of anybody, because we knew how closed-minded people could be in our community.
Sadly, he moved back to where he originally lived; that was the first time I ever truly felt heartbreak, and I could not confide in anyone. We eventually lost contact, and I have healed, finding comfort in music, but I still have days when I think about Lukhanyi even now in the present, and every time I walk into the chemistry class, I always stop for a good five minutes to think of him and our first encounter.
As we were learning, a girl walked in and grabbed everyone’s attention. Mr Ndlovu introduced her as Monica. She was tall and had flawless brown skin, big kinky Afro hair, hazel eyes, and a smile brighter than the sun. She looked like Christmas morning. Everyone was immediately drawn to her. She was instructed to sit by me, and I was stunned by her beauty as she extended her hand and I shook it back. That was the first time I saw people envying me. She was so kind and funny, we instantly became close friends. Monica and I are total opposites, but I guess that’s what made us great friends. Eventually I started noticing that Monica, doesn’t like boys and that’s when I found out that she is lesbian. At this point chemistry became my favourite class, because this is the place where I found people who understand me.
I instantly became more interested in Monica; she knew and understands herself, categorising herself as a fem. She was confident about her sexuality and paid no mind to what people had to say about her. I was inspired by Monica and wanted to learn from her. After school Monica invited me to a spoken word event two blocks away from my house. I fell in love with spoken word; it was peaceful and filled with self-expression. I listened to various artists, each word cutting deeper into my heart, every melody leaving me in tears. I kept coming. I started joining in and a lot of people liked my work. I met amazing people who were more like me, and it felt good to know that I was not alone. I truly met someone who grabbed my attention when we met; his name was Owami and he was the most chilled person I had ever met. Days later, after finally feeling like I belong, I woke up to my father kicking my door down in anger, his veins popping out of and his eyes bloodshot, as he slapped me so hard I saw stars. Behind him, my brothers stood supporting him. I did not understand what was happening until Rosie came running in and stopped my father for almost killing me. In tears and confusion, I asked what I had done so wrong, and in a cold and disappointed voice Rosie told me that my secret of being gay was out to the whole world. That’s when I found out that someone had leaked a video of me in spoken word where I was strongly emphasising that I was gay. The next couple of days at home were a nightmare, with my father and brothers calling me a disgrace to the family, and Rosie completely avoiding me all over the house. School wasn’t any easier, with everybody looking at me weirdly or people giving me lectures on how I wouldn’t go to heaven for choosing to be gay. I was truly depressed until Monica said she was tired of seeing me like that and she made me realise that there was no use in being depressed and feeling sorry for myself. Then she and I devised a plan.
Monica helped me to organise a spoken word event. You might be asking why I would organise the same thing that caused my downfall, but the reason I did was to be able to tell my part of the story and allow the words to sink into people and make them understand me. On the day of my spoken word event, I gave my poem in front of my community. I talked about everything that I had been struggling with, including my identity crisis, social anxiety and self-acceptance, and the journey I went through, from feeling like a nobody to actually feeling like a strong individual who could accept and love themself. In passing I mentioned how my community could learn to accept and love their children regardless of their sexual orientation, and at the end, I got a standing ovation and people in the community started treating me with more respect. It felt good to know that I was accepted in my community, but the best part was how other people also had the confidence to come out.