An open letter to the LGBT kids who feel lost and scared: You are not alone
I started writing this at 4:00 a.m. with tears in my eyes, so I’m sorry if this is a bit scattered. I am so angry, and so sad.
If you aren’t familiar with me, my name is Elijah Daniel. I am mostly known for doing very dumb things. I really hate being serious, and I make an effort to make everything into a joke. I try to find the humor in everything, because I feel like laughter is the best medicine on this planet. But this is a time for anger, and change. I have to be serious for at least a few minutes. I wanted to write an open letter to LGBTQ kids, or any kid who feels like they don’t belong, or feel alone in this world.
I never thought I would have to write a coming out letter. and I never really wanted to. I thought we were past the whole “coming out” thing. But after this weekend, I’ve realized we are not. We have such a long way to go.
It’s so easy to get comfortable and forget how it was to be closeted, to be scared of being you.
I want to sincerely apologize to the LGBT youth for neglecting to use my platform to help them, and make them feel less alone. It’s so easy to get comfortable and forget how it was to be closeted, to be scared of being you. Terrified of people finding out, what they would think, or do. That was so fucking scary. I grew up gay as hell in an extremely religious family, in rural Michigan, homeschooled on a farm. I know that feeling.
Reading about the horrifying Pulse attack, I felt that fear again. I mean, the fear is still always there. In the back of your mind—when you feel like you can’t hold hands in public, or go certain places, or be “too gay” in fear that people won’t want to work with you. That fear of being who you are. But I haven’t felt it in this capacity in awhile. I’ve been fully out for two years, and I live in Los Angeles now. I don’t really have to worry about some guy wearing camouflage in a pickup truck yelling “faggot” at me anymore. California has been so accepting. I’ve never felt more okay with being me, and that is such an amazing feeling.
But what I have neglected is the millions of LGBT kids who live every single day crushed by those fears. Terrified of being themselves. .
Earlier yesterday morning I saw a video—it was a mother crying, sobbing, terrified. Saying her son was at Pulse in Orlando the night of the massacre, and she still hasn’t heard from him. I couldn’t stop thinking about the video all day. She was so heartbroken. All she wanted was for her son to be okay. I’d never wanted a happy ending more than I did for her.
I opened my phone at 11:00 p.m. and saw her son was one of the confirmed dead. My heart sunk so deep, I was so fucking sad for this woman. I felt her pain. That could have been any of us. I immediately texted my mom saying “I love you” while ugly crying like Kim Kardashian. I tweeted:
A girl responded on Twitter with a screenshot of a text from her mother, where her own mother said she wished her daughter was one of the victims in the shooting. My heart sank again. I am so lucky to have a loving, accepting family now that I forget what it was like when that wasn’t the case. When I wasn’t able to text my mom about these things, or feel comfortable being myself. When I felt like I didn’t have anyone to talk to. So many other people starting responding to the girl saying they relate, and they’re going through the same thing. How? It’s 2016, how are so kids still going through this? This is so wrong.