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Zusatztext Judy Shepard executive director of the Matthew Shepard Foundation Every parent should read this book. It's a wonderful resource that I wish had been available to me. Informationen zum Autor Kevin Jennings is cofounder and executive director of the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) and a Harvard graduate. Klappentext Focusing on the day-to-day experiences of adolescents confused about their sexual identities, " Always My Child" provides the psychological insights and practical strategies parents need for supporting their kids and coping themselves, and guides them to understand their gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered son or daughter. Introduction When I was growing up in rural North Carolina in the 1970s, I honestly thought I would grow up to be President. After all, that was my birthright as an American. I lived in a country where anyone who was determined and worked hard enough could aspire to the highest office in the land. I planned to live out that American dream. However, from an early age, I realized that something was amiss. I knew I was gay long before I had heard that word or knew what it meant. I remember at age six or seven being more fascinated by my brother's bodybuilding magazines than by his Playboys, but somehow knowing that this was information I should keep quiet. As I grew up and came to understand what these feelings meant, I recoiled in horror from myself. Being a boy who loved books and who shied away from grade school machismo -- a boy who didn't always conform to the gender expectations of my small-town world -- cast me out. By middle school, my classmates had labeled me the "school fag." The relentless taunting was cruel and soul-destroying. I began to hide in the library during any unstructured time in the school day so I wouldn't be beaten up. I'd eat lunch alone in the hallway to avoid cafeteria teasing. I'd spend every Sunday night battling my "Sunday funny feeling" -- a euphemism for the fear-inspired nausea that the prospect of returning to school on Mondays always brought. When my family moved to another small southern town in 1979, after my sophomore year, I started in a new school and decided to shed my unfortunate past. I pursued what I thought was "normal" with a vengeance. I dated every girl I could literally get my hands on, earning a well-deserved reputation as a big jerk who always tried to see how far he could get on the first date. I was the biggest teller of fag jokes and ridiculed anyone who suggested anything decent about gay people. What I really hated was myself, and this I could not escape from, regardless of how often I got drunk or stoned, no matter how deeply I retreated into music or magazines, soaking up hours behind the locked door of my bedroom. I never told my mom that I ate lunch alone everyday. I never revealed that my insides felt chipped away by meanness and alienation. I never let on that I thought I would never fit in anywhere. Only once, did I test the waters. I told her that I was gay and then quickly denied that it was true. That's a common thing LGBT people do. You kind of come out like a turtle, look around to see if it's safe. If it's not, you stick your head back in and scurry away. The most important thing in my world was making my mother proud; I couldn't -- I wouldn't -- risk letting her down. So I bore the burden of my secret shame alone, wondering if my loneliness would ever abate. YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO If your child is LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or questioning -- terms we'll define later) her day-to-day experience probably mirrors what mine was. While it's true for many LGBTQ youth that there's an unprecedented level of acceptance and support, it is also true that these remain extraordinarily difficult times for young LGBTQ people. And, like me, I bet one o...
