A senior in high school and freshly 18, I hit my rock bottom. It wasn't cataclysmic. In fact, it was horribly private. Being gay and in the closet, I felt completely alone with a secret that I feared, if anyone knew it, would completely destroy me. Every new day was a burden and depression draped me in heavy garments. This was the time when I would come home from school, shut the door to my bedroom, sit on my bed, and stare at the wall. While I later found that wall-staring works quite well for Zen-types, I only did so because I had hardly enough energy to do much of anything else.
But on January 1st of 2013, I had an idea: "I'm going to come out the day after graduation! That way, I won't have to face any threats in the hallways or former friends who might reject me." It was fool-proof and only about six months away. To track my progress and build anticipation, I began marking off each day with an "x" on a calendar. The first week went well enough, but by the end of the second week, my mind was close to exploding from the pressure. The truth was clawing its way out of me, and I was scared.
On January 15th, just as school ended for the day, a friend pulled me aside and spilled some beans of her own. As co-chair of The Glammy's–- an Academy Awards-style student event–– she got the scoop early that I'd been voted "Class Actor" by my classmates. I wasn't terribly surprised as I had been in some of our school plays and musicals, but then it hit me. I wouldn't be waiting until June. The event was only three days away.
Over the following days, I anxiously tossed and turned the idea over and over in my mind. How would I do it? A speech? What would I say? Should I even do it at all? Flooded with thoughts, I turned to reason and created a pros-and-cons list. It seemed like the smart thing to do, but when I saw how my "cons" side just kept going, and going, I wasn't really encouraged. Fortunately, and like most gay high school students, I had a favorite English teacher.
I approached Mrs. Frantz after class with my pros-and-cons list in hand, and sheepishly told her what I was plotting. I showed her my list and waited in suspense while she looked it over. After some time, she put down the paper and pointed out something that I will never forget for the rest of my life, something that I had overlooked. Yes, my "cons" side was twice as long as its counterpart, but nearly everything that I had written there was just a hypothetical. The "pros", on the other hand, were nearly all guaranteed. I was stunned, and now even more confronted: Do I allow a litany of hypothetical negatives to get in the way of guaranteed positives? I thanked my teacher and I left.
As soon as I got home, I opened up my computer and began to type. As a theatre kid, I was not a shy public speaker, but my fingers quivered as I typed out the words of my speech. I called in my father, and showed him what I'd written. He took my computer, made a few edits, and handed it back to me with the words, "I am so proud of you. Go get 'em, tiger."
With only two hours until the event, I called up a friend. He had been outed to his parents a few months prior and his father not only stopped speaking to him, but went so far as to pretend that my friend didn't even exist at their family's dinner table. The contrast between my experience and his was stark, and I asked if he would bring his camera that night to film my speech. I explained that I wanted to dedicate it to him, and to every LGBT person who felt trapped, ashamed, or rejected. Thankfully, he agreed.
It was 7:00pm on January 18th, 2013 when I heard my name called from the stage. Stepping up to the podium, I gripped it tightly and pulled out my speech. The spotlight was shining directly into my eyes, my heart was beating out of my chest, and the tunnel vision setting in told me that I was in danger. The thought entered my mind "If I speak these words that I've written, I am going to die." As the fear of death itself arose, and I stood at its door, there too appeared the courage to do what I'd come there to do. In a fraction of an instant, I pushed past Death and stepped into Truth.
What you see here is by all counts the true beginning of my spiritual journey in this life. One moment I was living a lie, threatened with death by terror and hopelessness. The next, I was free, basking in the grace of freedom and courage. As soon as I finished my speech, I was met with overwhelming love and thunderous applause from my classmates. Yes, Mrs. Frantz was right–– my fears were all indeed hypothetical–– but what actually surprised me most, was the intensity of the weight that had been lifted off of my spirit. It was truly as if a physical weight had evaporated from my being and I had been let out of prison for good.
The intention I had set, to speak the truth for those who could not, found its way into the homes of millions of people around the world as my speech went viral on YouTube. I was flooded with messages and letters from LGBT people and allies who shared their stories with me. Many of them were suffering, but most were offering of genuine gratitude and a renewed sense of hope. I was in awe to witness how one moment of truth could create an international ripple, how lighting one candle could also ignite millions more.
Understandably, this experience inspired me to dedicate the remainder of my life to serving those in need. Since then, I have dedicated my vocational energies to social justice, politics, and over five years running a national nonprofit organization. Yet, as I progressively deepen my spiritual practice, I'm discovering more and more that I crave to be of service to others through the healing arts, teaching, and serving my local community here in Boulder, CO.
Although I have changed considerably since the day I gave my speech, now ten years ago, what hasn't changed is the gratitude I still feel for the truth, which strengthens and authenticates me.
– Jacob
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