Hello, my name is Lisa and I am gay. These words seem so easy to say, just as if I'm saying "I like the color blue" or "I like strawberries". But what does it really mean? How does it effect my life, my goals, my dreams? What will others think about me? Will I be shunned as if I were a cancer? Although very personal, I think it's important to share my discovery and also internal and external struggles towards acceptance. This is my story....

It was a nice summer day back in 1990. The weather outside was hot and humid and almost unbearable. I could feel the excitement in the air. I enjoyed school but what I really enjoyed was staying up late, sleeping in and having the house to myself. Not to mention it gave me more time for self-discovery, as well as time to get into a little trouble.

I was a mere eight year old kid, full of life and innocence, nothing seemed to bother me. I was a bit of a tomboy; some may call me a little rough around the edges. I hadn't worn a dress since, what I like to call "the disaster," back when I was five. Imagine being forced to take a family portrait wearing a red with white laced fluffy dress. That wasn't even the worst part; imagine your sister wearing the same dress. It was a nightmare! Why are parents so cruel?

I had many neighbor friends and we played outside all day until dusk. Our favorite games included kicking the ball over the electric wiring and dodge ball played with rocks. Maybe we weren't the brightest kids around, but we kept ourselves busy. At eight, I thought I knew it all, boy was I wrong.

That summer day back in 1990, I was riding my bicycle to the corner store to buy some candy with my allowance. It was burning a hole in my pocket and I couldn't bear to wait one more day. My mouth was just salivating for a Milky Way bar. On my way to the corner store, I noticed a family moving in and then I noticed her. Before you start thinking it's weird, I don't mean in that way. It couldn't have been more innocent and child-like.

We lived in a small neighborhood so someone moving in was sort of a big deal. As a child, I had a very forward personality so it wasn't unusual for me to walk up to a stranger especially someone my own age that is just what I did. I walked up to her and asked for her name. She said her name was Crystal and she was from Hawaii. I never met someone from Hawaii or at least I had not to my best knowledge. She seemed so nice and welcoming. From that day forward we became best friends.

As I got to know her and her family, they were different than most others in the neighborhood. Her mom, I'll call Ms. X, was unmarried and single. Most kids I knew had a mom and a dad. "Weird", I thought, but maybe he died or he lived somewhere else. It wasn't my place to ask and to be quite honest, I really didn't think too much about it. Ms. X was very nice and was a great cook. Crystal and I would ride our bikes all day and come home to her famous barbeque meatball sandwiches. There is nothing like barbeque on a hot summer day.

Also living in their household was Crystal's Aunt Burt. She was a little older and not as friendly. I didn't see her around much when I was there. I always thought it was strange that her mom and Aunt Burt shared a bedroom but at eight I could only comprehend that they were really close and nothing more.

My parents divorced when I was too young to remember but from what my mom says, my father was abusive and disrespectful. She remarried when I was five to a man who I now call Dad. My mom was open minded and encouraged individual thought but my step-dad was a bit prejudice. He made racist and homosexual comments all the time. His comments never really affected me, that is, until I met Crystal.

Rumors began to swirl about Aunt Bert and Ms. X that they weren't sisters but lovers. I didn't care, I wasn't friends with them, I was friends with Crystal, really, what's the big deal. My Dad sat me down to explain to me that homosexuality was wrong and I could no longer be friends or have contact with Crystal or her family. I was distraught. She was my best friend. Why? What did I do to deserve this? I had no choice but to give up the fight and accept reality.

Things were pretty normal in my life until I got to high school. Freshman year I began dating. Jay was my first serious boyfriend. He was my sister's best friend's brother. He was so dreamy. He had beautiful eyes, spiky hair, and the whitest teeth that I have ever seen. But something was missing. I wasn't quite sure what it was or maybe I wasn't brave enough to admit it.

One Saturday, in June, the summer after my freshman year, things seemed different between Jay and I. He was quiet and distant. We had a great relationship, well, except for one thing, intimacy. His quietness scared me. That day, he looked at me and I knew. I knew what he was going to say. For one moment, time stood still. My heart pounded with fear. Fear that I was, again, losing my best friend. "We need to break up", he said. I was filled with sadness, emptiness and loneliness.

Break-ups are hard to get over. I really never thought of myself as clingy and needy. I always saw those kinds of girls as weak and lacking self-esteem but could that possibly be me? I found myself questioning everything. Who am I? What am I about? What is my purpose? Why am I not good enough?

As time went on, I began to feel like myself. I joined clubs, the basketball team and made new friends. I was getting to know "me" again and I really like the person I was becoming. One day after a grueling basketball practice a classmate of mine introduced me to one of her friends. I never met this girl before but I knew about her. She was one of those people that never learned not to say something if it wasn't nice. She immediately asked me if I was gay. I was stunned. "What, me?," I thought. "No way!!!,” I said. I was embarrassed. She had some nerve. Did I look at her wrong to make her think I was checking her out?

I was upset, confused and pissed off. I didn't understand why anyone would think that about me. Okay, yes, I know, I'm not feminine but I'm certainly not overly butch. I took what nerve I had left in myself and walked outside. I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I couldn't let her know that it bothered me. I sat alone, just thinking. At that moment my mom pulled up to take me home.

That night at home I cried. Maybe she saw something in me that I didn't know myself. The thought that I may actually be gay scared me. I wasn’t ready to admit it. I wasn’t ready to face my fears.

The next couple of years were trying. Teenage years are tough enough without this added pressure. It took a long time but my senior year of high school I was finally ready to admit it. I remember that day like it was yesterday.