Laverne is an actress and a transgender woman whose story takes us from her childhood experiences of being bullied, to the transphobia she experiences as an adult, and the acceptance she finally receives from her mother. Continue Reading to watch Laverne’s story.

You can find out more about Laverne at her website, find her on Facebook and follow her on Twitter.

TRANSCRIPT:
My name is Laverne Cox and I’m from Mobile, Alabama. Until recently, I have had a tremendous out of shame about the bullying I experienced as a child. Whenever something would happen and my mother would find out, she would yell at me and say well why didn’t you fight back. Why aren’t you fighting back. And she would also say, what are you doing to make them treat you like that. So, I felt like it was my fault. We took the bus to school everyday. I have a twin brother. They, the kids couldn’t beat us up on the bus because the bus driver was sort of watching in the rear view mirror. But we knew that as soon as we got off the bus we had to take off running or we’d get beaten up. And for years, I joked that I was a very fast runner as a child. And it was sort of my way of deflecting from how painful it was, to sort of feel like I was always in danger. Up until that point, everyone was telling me that I was a boy. I was 8-years-old, and I was just convinced that I was a girl. The therapist told my mom and she yelled at me that boys are this way and girls are this way. And it was just this big thing. And, I again, internalized a lot of shame about the way I was thinking about myself and about who I was. I loved to dance as a kid. I was always dancing around. I would dance  in the supermarket. I would just dance everywhere. Back when PE was in schools, when the kids were doing free play I was off dancing to music that was always in my head. And I always sort of had characters that I was playing and making up. So I begged from 5 years old  to 8 years old to be in dance classes and my mom finally found a program for me. And I believe that that saved my life. I did try to commit suicide once, when I was about 11 years old, unsuccessfully. But if I didn’t have school, my mom’s a teacher, and education and reading and something I loved and that I was good at, I don’t think I would have survived. I didn’t feel safe at all as a kid.

And I’ve had moments like that as an adult, but the difference with me as an adult is that I have support now. I have people in my life who support and validate me as who I am. As a kid, when kids were saying all these awful things about me I thought that was the truth of who I was. And as an adult now, I find myself wanting to go back into oh people are saying this about me it must be true. But then I’m like, well  no. I have people around me who are supportive and who are amazing who love me and are like no, what these people are saying about you is not who you are. And I know that that’s not who I am.

This past Christmas, my mom and I were, we were just talking and we hadn’t talked about the bullying stuff but you know, she, my mom she’s very aware of what’s been going on in the news with all the bullying stories. And she, it just sort of came up and she just said, just out of nowhere she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to deal with it.” She had her way and she thought that was the way and it didn’t work. And she loves me, and she supports me, and she’s proud of me. And that’s all I really wanted as a kid to have my mom be proud of me. That’s all I wanted. And she is, so that’s kind of amazing.

I was taunted a lot throughout my early academic years in school. My voice was softer than other boys. I didn’t necessarily want to engage in the same activities that other boys did. Although, I did play football and basketball with my male friends and was quite good at it. However, five minutes later you could find me jumping double dutch and braiding hair with my female friends, and in complete heaven. I knew I was different, but the teasing and harassing that “friends” put me through, made me feel like I couldn’t be myself.

Now don’t get me wrong, growing up was a wonderful time for me. I had two parents and two step-parents who were extremely loving and supportive of me. I mean, our family could rival that of the Cosby’s, we’re so close. Yet, for some reason, I didn’t think that my family would be accepting of who I was; the true me. My family and I would have many discussions about loving me and accepting me for who I was, but I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I would hide my feelings; lie about them. Keeping them a secret. Why? I don’t know. Unlike many other families (especially in the black community), I wasn’t being shunned. Not once was I told I would be kicked out of my family’s house, or better yet, condemned to eternal damnation. Yet, I just couldn’t find the strength inside me to be as open and honest about who I was. First with myself, and then with others.

As time went on, I continued to hide my feelings. I “dated” girls to save face. Actually, the only time I kissed a girl was in a game of Truth or Dare. HA! By the time high school arrived, my focus shifted. I had found my true calling which was dance and enrolled in a performing arts program where I was surrounded by others who were different: lovers of the arts, other gay men and women. Everyone had a story, but loved one another exactly the way they were. I didn’t realize it at the time, but dance would become my medium to share with the world who I truly was.

Senior year rolled around, and something happened to me. I met someone. Not a girl, but a boy. We became completely enamored with one another and started dating. Secretly. Somehow, all of those feelings that I grew up with came flooding back to me. The teasing and taunting I had grown up with made me feel like I had to keep this man that I was in a relationship with hidden. I prayed a lot. Asking God to help me find the strength to accept who I was, but also to find the courage to be able to share who that person is with the world. I don’t remember exactly when it hit me, but with those prayers came understanding, acceptance, peace, and forgiveness. I eventually sat down with my family and closest friends, and shared the good news with them. I WAS GAY HONEY and PROUD! Tears were shed. Not because I was gay, but because I had finally come to a place where I could feel free.

As time has gone on, I’ve learned more and more about myself as a black gay man. It is a constant work in progress, but I’ve discovered I can be macho, proud, strong, and gay! I’ve learned not to define myself as how others see me, but only by how I see myself. As a performer, our goal is to always be as open and honest with our audience every night that we hit that stage. I don’t think that I would be able to do that night after night had I not found acceptance and love for myself first!

Amber shares a touching story about her mother, which gives a hopeful reminder that not all coming out stories in the black LGBTQ community are bad. As Amber says herself, “my experience is that people of color, when I hear their coming out stories, there’s always some element of tragedy or real struggle or estrangement from their families, and while that certainly has been the case with a lot of people, it wasn’t my experience.” Continue Reading to watch Amber’s story.

TRANSCRIPT:

My name is Amber and I was born in Okinawa, Japan, but I am from Atlanta, Georgia. So my experience is that people of color, when I hear their coming out stories, there’s always some element of tragedy or real struggle or estrangement from their families, and while that certainly has been the case with a lot of people, it wasn’t my experience. And I think it’s important to also get that story out, that it’s not always going to be this really terrible experience and you’re not going to feel completely alone and estranged from your family. Because with people of color, really with anybody, but people of color specifically, our family unit is incredibly important and you go through a lot with your family. So feeling estranged with them at any point is particularly debilitating. So that wasn’t my experience and I thought it was important to get that out.

Super Bowl Sunday, 2004, I was headed to a Super Bowl party and I was talking with my mom on the phone, I was trying to get off the phone with her. And right when I was trying to get off the phone, she asked if I had anything I wanted to talk with her about, or anything more I wanted to say. And I said, no, I think I covered it, everything’s going well, classes are going great, you know, trying to get off the phone. And she said, well, are you sure you don’t have anything you need to say? No, no, I’m all set, think we covered everything. She goes, well, what about Allison? And Allison was this girl that I dated. So she was asking if I wanted to say anything about Allison, and I said, no, I don’t have anything to tell you about Allison. And she waited a little longer and she was like, Okay, I guess I’m going to have to walk you through this. So I was silent, I had no idea, well, I think I had an idea of what she was referring to but it was just so out of the realm of my understanding of how this process works that I just wasn’t ready. And so she said, Okay, Mom, I am… and I was silent because I had no idea what I was supposed to say. And she said it again, Mom, I am… And I just started crying. I never finished the sentence, I never went through it, I just broke down and started crying. I just said over and over again I’m so sorry, I’m just so sorry, I tried so long to be perfect, I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I was just broken-hearted and I felt that I had broken her heart. And she just saying it’s okay, it’s okay, I love you, it’s okay. And we eventually got off the phone, I don’t remember how I got off the phone, but we got off the phone.

The summer of that year I ended up going back home by myself this time and we were cleaning up the garage and I remember having a series of conversations that summer about what it meant to be bisexual because that’s what I came out as, because I was bisexual, I’m still attracted to men, I just wasn’t dating one at the time, and the questions she asked centered around… I mean, the very first question she asked me was, okay, okay, okay, you’re walking down the street, and Denzel Washington is coming at you from this end and Halle Berry is coming from you, who do you look at? They were ridiculous questions, but they weren’t questions asked out of malice, she was really truly trying to understand. And they were difficult questions to answer because, I would look at Halle Berry but that’s because Halle Berry is just generally more attractive than Denzel Washington but maybe that’s because how gay I am, but it’s also more than Denzel Washington is a little older, but it got to be a little bit of a headache. But it was nice that she stayed engaged and she was always asking silly questions like that.

My mother passed suddenly in 2008 and tragically, and when I was dealing with my grief with her passing, I remember Googling her and looking up some of the obituaries and things people had to say. And I stumbled across an article that one of her former students of Virginia Tech had written and people say incredible things about my mom. About her eloquence and her beauty and her grace and her way of just making people feel comfortable and at home. And all of those things mean a lot to me. But this student wrote this article and he said that what meant the most to him was that she was the greatest LGBT ally that Virginia Tech students ever had. And I don’t want to get choked up, but of all the things I’ve ever heard of my mother, that absolutely meant the most to me. And I just feel so blessed to have had that in my life. And I just wish other people could be so lucky.

Khary’s story focuses on the importance of not just finding another gay friend when you’re becoming aware of your own sexuality, but finding a gay friend who is also black. Continue Reading to watch Khary’s story.

TRANSCRIPT:

My name is Khary, I’m from Queens, New York. My story is really about what it means to be gay and come out as a black gay guy and really how friendship plays into that process. Me and who’s currently my best friend Gary, we both went to Cornell. We actually met at a nightclub called Octagon on 33rd Street. But again it was one of those moments where you know the face from campus but you know you’d never make the approach in a gay club, it just kinda seemed to expose yourself a little bit too much. But immediately upon getting back to school, you know there’s that bond, that instant bond. Like, I’ve seen you out, I know what’s going on with you. You know, let’s hook up and then let’s be friends.

In black greek culture on any college campus there’s this inclination to be competitive and kind of not fraternize with different groups. But we immediately had a connection which was amazing. But you could tell, you know, at school there was a lot of chatter going on. “Well, these are an unlikely pair” and “how did these two become friends?” I always knew that I didn’t feel connected to other boys growing up. And, you know, it was that moment where it was like “Ah this is what it’s supposed to feel like. This is what having a friend or, you know, a brother’s supposed to be about.” And especially being black and being gay we’re all coming from different families of different religious backgrounds and beliefs and we’re coming from different socio-economic backgrounds. And, you know, a lot of us wound up having opportunities that put us in places that you wouldn’t expect to see us. So, you know,  there’s a discomfort, not only with being black, but then you know, later on the kind of weirdness of  being gay and it creates a bubble that’s difficult to live inside of. There’s this moment I guess, and I would say most boys probably experience this where you haven’t quite resolved the sexuality, your sexuality yourself, right, you’ve not come to grips and said “Oh, I’m actually gay, ok, I understand what that means.” But people are talking about it you know people are kind of inquiring about it and you’re kind of forced to make a decision as to what your stance is going to be. And what was great about this relationship was that it was a place that I could feel safe and say, “You know what,  you know, I am gay, you know, and I’ve got someone who can support and do that.”  But again, I think that  there was this  moment of getting caught up in, you know, the fun of being gay and being young but not realizing that there was a world asking, “Well, why, what’s going on with you, why are you detached?” And that really was our, you know, those were our parents at the time. “Well what’s going on? You know, you’re home every weekend but we don’t really see you. You know, where are you?” There was this kind of cloud of mystery.

New York City in the 90s was bananas. The most vibrant you know, kind of time to be doing night life. You know, at least for us. So I can remember one Thursday night, and you’re downstairs and this is the time cell phones just came out. So cell phones weren’t small and compact they were pretty obnoxious things. So I can remember the phone ringing, and, you know, it’s, the question simply is, and I can tell the disco music’s is in the background, drag performances are going on, and you know how crazy and outrageous those can be. And the question is like, you know, “Are you gay?” And at that moment, I had to make a decision, as to whether or not the answer was going to be truthful or whether or not it was going to be more lies. And at the time, I guess that was what it was. I was lying. Under different circumstances the answer probably would have been no but knowing that you know your best friend is there to support you, and, you know, the moment feels right, it allowed me to say yes. Really. Absolutely. And I’m okay with that. And whether you choose to support me right now at this very moment or not, there are people in my life, and specifically like my best friend at the time, who you know still is, to say “It’s okay, and it’s cool and let’s do this and let’s explore this, and let’s have fun, and let’s travel, and get crazy.” And that whole moment. So really, the coming out process was a little bit joyful.

Stephen Winter’s story was the last one we filmed, but was the one that tackled the issue of race in the LGBTQ community head on. He even challenged the purpose and necessity of having the Black Community Spotlight, much less being created by a gay white man. His honesty and frankness is refreshing and I thought it would be the perfect way to start the week. Continue Reading to watch Stephen’s story.

You can contact Stephen on Facebook.

TRANSCRIPT:

My name is Stephen Winter, I’m originally from Chicago, IL. I’m here to talk to you about this time this guy named Nathan called me and said he wanted to talk about black gay issues. It was a journey within myself I went through this week when I was trying to figure out, as someone who is perceived as gay and perceived as black, can respond to someone who is perceived as white and is perceived as gay, who has a great intention of putting together this special section of this website which is lovely and will continue to be even lovelier, without pissing myself off, because I don’t want to be the black guy. And so for every single thing I did this week, and I had some business to do, I had some art to do, I had a couple different towns to visit and a whole bunch of people to meet, and in my mind, on a regular week, I’m Stephen Winter, art guy, film person. This week, I was Stephen Winter, does not want to be black gay guy first, still wanted to have relations with men and dudes, still wants to proudly operate under a society where cops think I’m black, which is fair, but did not want to respond in a way that would help perpetuate what I think is a status quo that should really be moved beyond.

My father was from Hungary, Czechoslovakia and Austria, and he was a Jew-turned-Catholic, he was fleeing the Nazi’s. An emigrant and a refugee. My mother was from Jamaica, the Caribbean. As far as we can tell, two or three generations back, were all from that island. And she was fleeing of course British colonialists control and economic, social issues. They both came to Chicago in the 40s. Without being too, well, sometimes they were dogmatic about it, sometimes they weren’t, but what they did say to me very clearly was that, You’re mother is considered black, your father is considered white, but we’re not. I’m Jamaican, I’m Czechoslovakian, you’re our child. You’re American. And you are wonderful. And so you shall be. But out there in the world, and later when I grew up and started experiencing the world it soon became clear that race is a construct, but what you are is what cops think you are. The blacker you look the blacker you shall be treated. The whiter you look the whiter you shall be treated. So my parents made it clear to me that out there in the world I was going to be treated like I was considered, but here inside, I shall be me. First, an American. First generation. The pride and joy of two worlds of families both escaping things and bringing something else to bear.

And then I grew up in Chicago for the most part and pretty soon became queer, we’ll put it, then when I left my little queer teenage world and went out into the grander world where gay exists, it became very clear that gay in that context meant white. And everybody else was kind of visiting. So if it was a sit-com opening from the 80s, The Gay World, it would be Welcome to the Gay World, here are your main characters, and special guests! The Black Guy, The Asian Person, The Drag Queen, The Bull Dagger. The gay white men in the front, everyone else sort of shoved aside. It would appear that the gay, and I’m not talking specifically about the L and the B and the T and the Q, but the G…seem hellbent on continuing this into the century, which is the exact same rubric of understanding each other that upon my first visit at age 17 in a gay bar in the north side of Chicago with three young me of equal under-age status who were of European descent, they were allowed to go into the club, I was asked for three pictures of ID. And it turned out that in Chicago at the time, there was a wave, regardless of how old you were, for black people to be asked for more ID than white people at certain clubs because they didn’t want black people in that club. And if you did have three IDs, two had to have pictures, there always was something going on. Folks protested against this, but that was my first experience at the gay bar at age 17. I didn’t get to go in, that was my almost first experience.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Throughout the years my attraction for girls just grew and grew. I knew I’d go to hell if I had these feelings so I just kept trying to hide them and avoid it. When I got into middle school I noticed that I started to have more feelings towards girls. It was a hard time because I wanted to take them to dances, I wanted to have my first kiss, I wanted to be that couple that walked around school holding hands but I knew I couldn’t. I was so upset that I had these feelings, it made me so angry inside because I knew it was wrong and I just wanted it all to go away. Then I got into high school…

Freshman year was the last straw. I couldn’t take it anymore. I realized that this was me and that I needed to stop fighting it. So I came out to my friends towards the end of the year. They were very accepting and I was so relieved because I thought they were all going to freak out. Sophomore year was when I really started to come out about it. I started dating girls online, while having boyfriends on the side at school so my mom would never find out. I felt terrible for using them but I needed a way to distract my mom. Then I started dating girls in real life (not online). I did this without my mom knowing all the way up until senior year. It was about 2-3 months before graduation. I was dating this boy named Bradley. I finally told him that I was a lesbian and broke up with him. He was so heart broken that he texted my mom and told her everything, and I mean everything. So my mom went online and she found my other myspace. The myspace I had kept hidden for so long. She came into my room and flipped. Screaming and saying the most terrible things I had ever heard come out of her mouth. She took everything I had (computer, TV, guitar etc.) and then she called everyone in the world and told them. I was so hurt, I was so done with it I just wanted to die. It didn’t help that my grandma who meant the most to me wasn’t on my side either. So I stopped going to school for about 3 days. I tried meeting my girlfriend at the time somewhere to run away but my mom followed me in her car. I threw a big rock at her bumper so she called the cops on me. I hid and the cops left. Then when I came back home my mom told me to get out of her house. I said okay and started to leave but then she told me I “had” to go to my dads or she’d call the cops and say I ran away. I didn’t want to go to his house, I barely even knew the man, but I ended up going there anyways because I didn’t want to go to Juvi.

At this point in my life I gave up on everything. I skipped classes, I smoked in the hallways, I took pain pills. I didn’t care. One class period I sat in an empty hallway crying. Some boys in wood shop saw me and started throwing wood blocks at me laughing. I just got up and left. I stood over the railing on the second floor of my school when nobody was around and planned to jump, but something told me not to. I told myself that I already came this far and that I needed to finish. I somehow managed to pass my classes and graduate, but I didn’t pass my math proficiency so I didn’t get my diploma right away. My mom and dad would not stop arguing on who was going to take me to my graduation. They both said they weren’t doing it because the other one needed to. So my friend ended up taking me, even though my mom and dad both went. My mom never ended up throwing me a grad party, she gave all my announcements away and she never ordered any grad pictures of me. She said I wasn’t “really” graduating so I didn’t deserve anything. My dad threw me a small party but I was too upset about everything to really pay attention. Almost a year later I finally passed my math test and received my diploma. I am now living with my girlfriend of almost 2 years and I could never be more happy. My point is, don’t give up. Keep going because things will get better. With, or without your family’s support.

Two years ago I broke down in front of my parents and begged them to fix me.

I walked into an office after New Years Eve - after the last of what I had stashed away was ingested. After the last drops of any reservation I may have had dissipated into the lining of my stomach. I walked into an office with my mother and sat down, dazed - hung over - red eyed - wheels in my head spinning like they were rocket powered. The very next day after my breakdown - my third breakdown… or my fourth breakdown…

It’s hard to keep track of the breakdowns - it’s hard to keep track of the years. Of the faces. Of the names. Of the places that you wouldn’t be able to name if you had to point them out on a map to a police officer, but that you recognize INSTANTLY if you ever catch a glimpse.

You see glimpses of people in the trees - of strange shadows in the windows at dusk - and it’s all your brain showing you what you want to see. And all you want to see is your madness - your sexual repression - your indulgence - your insanity becomes your closest ally.

The only one you’ve lived with all these years. The only one you’ve convinced yourself will EVER love you…

I sat in the office and the woman behind the desk was clearly incredibly religious - something had gotten a hold of her in her earlier years and gave her hope. And I thought “more power to her” - but if you really asked me what was going through my head at that moment, I think that woman behind the desk knew better than I did. I barely knew where I was, I was so fucked out of my mind. And as for WHO I was… I’m still figuring that out.

But she set me up with an intake and my first “class” - to teach me how to live again. On my own. Without alcohol, without drugs - something on the way to becoming who I always was.

And that was the thing - two years ago, I discovered WHO I AM. And he was still that boy from the before-times. Before I thought coming out and being gay would fix me. Before I said “no, I don’t want to wear that… but if you want me to - if that will make you like me and talk to me, I’ll do whatever you say.”

“I hate this music, but if you will talk to me if I dance to it - I’ll do whatever you say.”

“I don’t want to be slutty, but if you will hold me if I am - I’ll do whatever you say.”

“I don’t want to put that inside me, but if it will make me feel whole for a second - I’ll do whatever you say.”

“You mean, I’ll feel better about ALL of this with a powder? With a liquid? With an inhalant? Well then… I’ll do whatever you say.”

I’ll do whatever you say…

Two years ago, I learned that this is NOT how you live your life.

Two years ago, I began to learn that you are not here for ANYONE else but yourself. That you’re first line of defense is something called “a boundary.”

Two years ago, I learned that I don’t HAVE to like people to LOVE them.

Two years ago, I stepped into an office with a group of people… and I told them… I AM AN ADDICT.

And so it began…

Two years ago, I came back to life. I rose from the dead for the second or third or fifth or tenth time… BUT IT WAS FOR THE LAST TIME.

Two years ago, I decided to LIVE AGAIN. And more importantly, that I had a choice… and I wanted to learn the things I never learned. To live the life I had up to this point, never lived.

To be loved like I’ve never been loved and to LOVE like I’ve never loved.

To SEE the world in some new light. To become a SURVIVOR.

Today: I AM A SURVIVOR.

And today… I’m still learning things. I’m still moving through the shit of what I did when I was DEEP, DEEP, DEEP in denial and addiction. The people I tried to please.

I was raped. I was sexually assaulted. I lied. I stole. I cheated again and again. On good people, too.

I never gave some people a chance to get to know me.

I grew paranoid and suspicious… but, in my defense, that happened LONG before I ever put a drug or some unclean stranger inside my body.

We’re not just working on ten years of substance abuse - we’re working on YEARS of tortured memories.

We’re working with a scared little boy who needs to grow up and realize tomorrow is never promised… but RIGHT NOW is what you make of it.

I picture him often… and I talk to him. And I tell him that I love him - I try to teach him patience and the art of trust - and I hold him to me and say:

“There are lessons you still need to learn… before you can move on.”

And he looks at me like he knows.

NEW YORK EVENT - Tuesday, January 31

*Gallery Bar, 120 Orchard St.
*Tuesday, January 31, 6:30pm - 10pm
*El Dorado Rum Open Bar 6:30 - 7:30
*Tickets: $10 advance, $15 door, purchase here: http://www.ImFromDriftwood.com/Event *VIP Tickets ($100 or 2 for $150) get you Open Bar all night, 5 free raffle tix, bottle of El Dorado rum, signed I’m From Driftwood book.

*Introduction by actress Laverne Cox.

Silent Auction Item:
* Long-time activist, Avram Finkelstein, who designed the “Silence=Death” poster, has donated a print of “The People’s Fountain”, 2010, Woodcut
* Mark Fisher Fitness: a fitness consultation, 3 weeks of unlimited classes, and $100 gift certificate to any membership package.

* 1-hour photo shoot with Dirty Sugar Photography

Raffle Prizes:
* 2 tickets to “Memphis”
* 2 tickets to “Disney’s The Lion King”
* El Dorado rum
* Babeland vibrator, lube and tickets to workshops
* 1-year subscription to IKONS Magazine
* DVD Box Sets of Californication, Dexter, and United States of Tara
* $100 Seamless Web gift card
* 5 tickets to “Too Much Love Makes the Baby Go Blind”
* More on the way!

Special Thanks:
El Dorado Rum
Lesbian Herstory Archives
Transgender Legal Defense and Education Fund (TLDEF)

- - - - - -

PHILADELPHIA EVENT - Thursday, February 2

*Thursday, February 2, 6:00 - 9:00pm (*story screening starts at 7)
*FREE BEER ALL NIGHT (21+ Strictly Enforced)
*Suggested donation $10 at the door
*Raffle Prizes

Featuring new stories from familiar Philadelphia faces…

Amber Hikes: Stimulus and Arouse party promoter.
Gary Hines: Radio host, community activist, and nightlife archivist.
Shara D. Howard: Attic Youth Center board member and talented musician.
Tyrone Smith: key organizer and elder of Philadelphia’s black LGBT communities.

Special Thanks:

William Way Community Center