Noticed: Alan Ilagan a Decade Ago

Noticed on Alan Ilagan:

In a small town it’s hard to find acceptance in being different, and before the advent and ubiquity of the internet there were limited venues for seeing or accessing any positive gay role models. That’s all I was really saying in the letter, and if putting myself out as a small example of what some other searching boy or girl might be looking for, I felt it was worth any risk.

After a few days of agony and misery, I knew that I had to do it. I was twenty-one years old, and though I didn’t quite feel like it yet, technically I was an adult. I drove to the newspaper office and handed the letter directly to the editor, asking that nothing be changed.

Returning home, I felt a wave of relief, as well as a sense of slight trepidation. I can’t explain it, I just knew I had to do it and now it was done. I walked into the family room and simply told my parents that I had submitted the letter. The hard part was over. No matter what anyone said or how people reacted, my heart was at peace. The fact that every single response was overwhelmingly positive and supportive only reaffirmed that my decision had been the right one - and the only one.

I have to thank my friends Chris and Missy - both were incredibly supportive at the time (and have been ever since). There were difficult and scary moments, and these two important people provided some badly-needed reassurance.

Looking at the letter again ten years later, I am struck by how simple it is. How strange that such a little thing caused such tumult for me and my family, and probably others. How wonderful, how sad, and how tender a time it was, and how glad I am that it’s in the past.

——————-

JULY 31, 1997

TO THE EDITOR:
This is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write. Almost all of my friends were opposed to it, citing “shock value” or “sensationalism” as its only reason for being. Initially I took their advice and remained silent, but then realized that such silence was precisely what was wrong with the world. I write this now for the teenager who sits in his room ready to slit his wrists or shoot himself in the head because of the way he was born but can never be. Five years ago that boy was myself.

I am a gay man. It has taken me almost 22 years to say that, the majority of which were spent in guilt and denial. Being gay was simply not an option for me. I learned at an early age that “gay” and “queer” were labels of social death, derogatory words used mainly to ostracize anyone slightly different from the mainstream. I also heard words like “faggot” and “sissie” used against those held in contempt of popularity. While not always hurled directly at me, the impact of mere casual contact with such hate forged the idea that “gay” was not good, not acceptable, and certainly not something that anyone would want to be, much less announce.

For a few years I tried to live within the parameters of a “normal” heterosexual lifestyle. I had girlfriends and laughed off the question of sexuality when it arose. Sadly, the result of such a veiled life was an intense self-hatred. All the vile words uttered about homosexuality turned inward and gnawed away at my heart. I tried to pretend it away, but how could I deny who I really was? The hatred I witnessed made me bitter and unhappy, culminating in several attempts at self-destruction. I couldn’t understand why people who didn’t even know me would condemn me for the way I was born.

For far too long, I have allowed myself to be silenced by shame. My sexual preference is not something over which I have control. Those who think this is a choice may want to question why I would choose a path that has some people condemning me to hell and others viewing me as disgusting or sick.

There are some who may find fault with my writing this in a public forum. Why should I have to put this in your face and force the issue upon you? I suppose it’s because I wish I read something like this when I was growing up. There was no role model, no television ad showing two gay people holding hands, no acknowledgement of our existence. I write this now for all the times I’ve seen a heterosexual kiss at the movies, in the magazines, at the mall, or on the street.

In an ideal world I would not have had to do this. In an ideal world the fact that I’m gay would not be an issue. No one would ask because no one would care. In such a world, labels such as “gay", “straight", or “bisexual” would be as ridiculous as categorizing people by their hair color.

This is not an ideal world. Being gay has become my most salient feature for many people. It is one of the first questions asked about me and it is often the first thing said when others discuss me. For that reason alone, this letter needed to be written. In the best of all possible worlds it wouldn’t matter what I do as a gay man, but what I do as a person.

It is with more than a little apprehension that I send this letter to be published. But for that one person who is still afraid, who is thinking about giving up and who sees no viable options, I offer myself as an example.

I have to believe that we, as a people, have the capacity for growth and change. I must believe that Amsterdam as a community will meet this challenge and reach the point where we rise above our differences in race, religions, and sexual preference and connect as human beings. If I did not have such faith, I would not have written this, nor would I be here today.