My introduction to Jehovah's Witnesses occurred when I was 10 years old, in 5th grade. In 6th grade, at age 11, I came face-to-face for the first time with with my true identity.
I had a "girlfriend" named Melissa from about 3rd grade to 6th grade, and had in mind the thought of growing up, getting married and having children of my own; only they would be cared for in a way that I'd never experienced myself; the 'cycle of abuse' would be broken with me! All of that changed one day in 1974 when I saw the inside of the boys' locker room after gym class and one of the students came out of the shower showing off what he had going on "down there." That image burned into my brain and awakened a part of me that I didn't even know existed; but I knew from that moment on that I was "different." It wasn't until the following school year, 7th grade, that I learned the feelings I'd been having had a name, "homosexuality," and that such feelings were wrong, unnatural and "abhorrent to Jehovah." Thus began an identity crisis that would plague me for the next 30 years or so: how can I claim to worship Jehovah God while, at the same time, having homosexual thoughts and feelings for some of my classmates??
I was one of those kids who got picked on and bullied nearly-incessantly from 4th grade until my senior year (it got so bad once in 5th grade that I picked up a chair intending to hit smash it into one of my tormentors' heads; this happened only once more in 7th grade, though I never actually hit anyone—though not for lack of trying, mind you). Interestingly, though, I was only rarely teased about being homosexual; I was targeted for the simple reason that I had a very short fuse and would inevitably respond to taunts by throwing a temper tantrum. There was one incident in high school, however, when someone did revile for being homosexual (or, as I was about to find out, "a faggot"). It was one of the most profoundly-devastating moments in my young life.
Right after my introduction to the Witnesses in 5th grade, I met a young Witness named Michael whom I'd seen at the Kingdom Hall one night. He and I became fast friends, practically inseparable for the next several years. Sometime around 8th grade, he transferred to a different school in a neighboring town so we rarely saw each other through most of high school. One afternoon, though, while waiting for the school bus, engaged in conversation with Michael's girlfriend-at-the-time, Kathy (who hadn't transfered), Michael came to pick her up, saw me talking with her and stormed up to me screaming, "Get away from my girlfriend, you faggot!"
I remember being utterly speechless and thoroughly confused. Here was one who I respected above all others—who'd helped me study the Bible during lunch breaks, helped me face religious intolerance and opposition at home and tried to help me overcome the homosexual feelings I'd been struggling with—calling me a "faggot" in front of dozens of classmates! I was completely humiliated.
That was my first encounter with that level of homophobic bigotry, and it came from one I'd thought was a "brother in Christ," a fellow worshiper of "Jehovah God." As devastating as that encounter was, it was not the last or the worse that I'd experience from fellow worshipers; the next encounter would be far worse and would expose to me for the first time the horrifying level of bigotry against homosexuals on the part of elders whose role should have been to help me overcome my weakness and build up my faith in God so I'd have the strength to do so.
What happened with the elders at the local Kingdom Hall in 1981 would help change the course of my life forever.
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