Discovering my sexual orientation in a violent, poverty-stricken environment was not easy. I remember the first time someone called me a “dyke” at Markham Middle School. At that time I was a punk rocker, wearing ripped jeans and men’s shirts. I didn’t yet consider myself queer — or even really know what that meant — but I was already aware of homophobia. Not until junior year of high school did I begin to explore my identity. Jordan High was reflective of the area that I lived: It was dangerous. Race riots broke out between Latinos and Black students, and students were not welcoming of gays. I did not feel that teachers, administrators or counselors could support me. [Read more…]