October 15th, 1997 to October 21st, 1997

From the Publisher ...

The Power of Choice

Statistics can seem overwhelming, and they rarely represent the very personal struggles of everyday people. There are a wide variety of studies indicating that gay and lesbian youth are at increased risk for suicide. But what can really be done to prevent teens like 14-year-old Robbie Kirkland or 17-year-old Jacob Orosco-and thousands more-from killing themselves?

I take this issue very personally, but I have also never before discussed it so publicly in a gay and lesbian newspaper. Two years ago, when Crain's Chicago Business selected me for their 40 Under 40 business leaders award, somehow the reporter got me to discuss college life and how it translated to a career in "alternative" journalism. For the first time, I opened up about my suicide attempt, as a sophomore in college, age 18, 1982. But in the 13 years I have worked in the gay and lesbian press, I have never felt comfortable telling about how close to the edge I had come.

What brought me to that edge? Primarily, a fear of broken dreams. I wanted so much to be an "objective mainstream journalist" like my parents. I was studying for a journalism degree from Drake University in Des Moines, and became increasingly frustrated at classroom discussions about "objectivity." I always stood out as the only student who believed there was no such thing as objectivity-that every journalist brought with them a set of biases, and had to work hard to overcome those biases. I refused to work for the student paper, and instead published a women's monthly newsletter that was very lesbian inclusive.

But while I was "out," I was not quite "proud."

I felt I was wandering toward a future without my first love-journalism.

On a cold winter night, I took a glass of water and a bottle of pills and headed for the frozen soccer fields. But the water froze and I returned to my dorm room-still determined to end a tragic life before it could begin. I recorded my words on paper until I could no longer write. Ever the journalist, I turned on the tape recorder for any final words of wisdom to those who would find me. I wanted to make sure they knew there was nothing they could have done to stop me-this was my decision alone.

Only bad planning and incompetence saved my life-I soon realized I probably would only "succeed" in doing permanent internal damage. So I called for help, and ended up in the hospital for a week.

But why? There's no simple answer when asking any person why they would want to end it all. No arguments, persuasion, begging or guilt-tripping will succeed. Ultimately, that person alone decides to choose life, or not.

I had help from friends, but primarily from one courageous source.

Ironically, my writing teacher that semester was Mark Doty-now a very famous and award-winning gay poet. But back then, he was a visiting teacher who, like most others, was not open about being gay. In my diary for the course, I revealed my suicide attempt, and the school's reaction of forcing me into therapy in order to remain at Drake and in the dorms.

Mark took a very incredible step in responding to my words-he came out to me about his own struggles with being gay, and assured me that it could and would get easier. He risked his job and more for me, and I felt not only honored, but I also felt hope. His courage helped me through the next difficult months. I decided with firm conviction that no matter what the cost to my career, I would be a boldly out lesbian. I decided I may be a typesetter the rest of my life, but I would be a happy and out typesetter.

Strangely, I feel as if that suicide attempt 15 years ago actually liberated me for a life of freedom no one could touch. No laws or hateful stares, no harassment or discrimination, would defer my dreams. My family was forced to quickly assess their opinions and become supportive-no matter what. My friendships remained strong and critical to my survival.

The thought of suicide is a continual presence in my current life. It is the reason, ironically, that I choose to live. For I am here on this planet by choice-and because I choose to be here, the opinions and actions of others will not get in my way. Failure or success do not matter-living my life openly and proudly are what has made me happy.

The way to the hearts of gay and lesbian youth is not by lecture, but by example. When we choose to live openly and happy lives, we become role models for others to do the same. It is not just celebrities who make good role models. In fact, celebrities would not have come out were it not for the thousands and millions of everyday folks who came out before them.

We can't judge the choices of gay and lesbian youth, we can only show them a positive alternative. We can be their family if they are shunned by their own family. We can be their friends if their own friends turn on them. But we also must not pressure them to fit into some idea or ideal we have for them, or force them into roles they are too young to fill. We can provide the sunlight, but we cannot walk in their shoes.

Laws and activism are useful tools. But even if we were granted full equality tomorrow, the hatred, fear and violence would not end. And most importantly, legislative changes will do nothing to remove the pain from the hearts of young gays and lesbians. It has taken more than laws to change America's views of Blacks and women, and it will take more than laws to make it easier for gay and lesbian youth to triumph over the vicious homophobia they can face both at school and at home.

-Tracy Baim, Publisher

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