From Fag to FAB

Since this is my first attempt at blogging in an exceptionally long time, I though it best to first get acquainted, which usually implies that you get to know everything about me starting from the beginning. Feeling privileged much? I hope not to bore you, as I tend to digress (a lot), but I think it’s important to know where a person came from before you understand that person’s outlook. I chose “From Fag to Fab” as my title because that is the best 4 words to describe my journey in life thus far.

It all started in Ville Platte, LA. Yes I spelled it correctly—it is where I’m from. As the name suggests, or as you might imagine, it’s a very small place. When you are different, you tend to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. The first time someone called me a name was in Mrs. Kim Soileau’s class in 3rd grade. A boy named Josh Soileau looked at me and asked me if I were a queer. I’m not sure if he really knew what he was talking about, because I sure didn’t, so I answered yes because I though maybe we could become friends; he was a cool kid back in the day. Then it all started. Every day a kid would tap me on the shoulder and ask me if I were a boy or a girl. The word fag was thrown around a number of times. Since I wasn’t even sure what gay was or what queer or fag meant, I never told anyone about my daily abuse. I had my mother believing that everyone liked me. I knew I was different, but I didn’t know how or why.

The thought of ending my life occurred to me many times as a teenager, but then I was too weak (some might say gay) to follow through. And besides I love life why would I do such a thing. Having no one to talk to because you fear what they are going to say is one reason.

I bet you’re thinking aww poor thing. Some might think I’m throwing a pity party for myself—when in fact I’m not. Actually I finally realized that if I weren’t a fag, then I wouldn’t be who I am today.

I liberated myself soon after high school. I began to understand my feelings. First I battled with acceptance. I lived through the death of my mother. I slowly went from the town fag to my own person. No one in Ville Platte really knew me for who I was, because I hid behind my faggot persona. I had to release myself from the anger and betrayal. After my psychological cleanse, I was able to let myself become involved with a man. I’m still with this man today. It’s been a long relationship with its own ups and downs but I’m a better person now. I’m happier now more than ever. I woke up one day and decided that I’m not a fag instead I’m FAB.

Of course this is the blog shortened version of my story. There are a ton of gaps. I just didn’t want to bore anyone, so I’ll just post more later. Now that you know me will you follow my posts? Much love!