Turning Pain Into Pride
Capitol Hill Organization Helps Gay Teenagers Make It Through a Difficult Age

By Jennifer 8. Lee, Washington Post Staff Writer

For hundreds of teenagers, the pink pastel house with the wrought-iron fence on Capitol Hill is a sanctuary in an often hostile society. They come from the inner city and the suburbs, united by a common sense of loneliness and, for some, a secret -- they are gay.

The 14-year-old Sexual Minority Youth Assistance League -- the formal name for the nonprofit center -- targets a population that grapples with sexual identity on top of ordinary adolescent fears and doubts. More than 900 youths use its services annually.

For some, the league has helped make the difference between life and death; for others, the center has provided the break between addiction and independence. It has brought young gay prostitutes off the streets and has found foster homes for gay teenagers.

Lauren Weiner, 16, first came out as a lesbian to friends when she was in seventh grade. During eighth and ninth grades, classmates threw her books out of windows and called her names. Weiner contemplated suicide. More than once, she cut her arms with a razor.

"The thing I wanted most was to be like everyone else at my school," Weiner said. "I knew that normal kids cried and felt pain. I felt the only way I could feel like them was to feel hurt."

Weiner started going to support groups at the center a year ago. She credits the organization for helping her rise from depression to pride. Now, Weiner speaks at local high schools and sits on the league's board of directors.

"Before, I was self-destructing and not being very constructive," she said. The league "has let me take my anger and channel it to something positive."

The Sexual Minority Youth Assistance League advertises its services in high school newspapers and in the Blade, a local gay weekly. But word of mouth is its most powerful magnet.

On Saturdays, the center buzzes with dozens of people who come in for the support groups and for socializing. They lounge comfortably in the living room on brightly colored couches, watching television or chatting. Shelves containing gay literature line the walls, and a large rainbow flag is draped along the stairs. People sport stickers emblazoned with the slogan, "There's more to love than boy meets girl." Safe-sex kits are available in small, plastic bags.

The league has a $300,000 annual budget. Sixty percent of that comes from personal donations, 25 percent from foundations and the remainder from local governments.

The organization offers comfort for young people who sometimes feel alone in their struggles, and it offers a social scene alternative to adult gay clubs.

"It's given me a place to explore my own identity, to be in a setting so I don't have to look around and see only heterosexuality," said Brett Harris, 17, of Annapolis. "We can use each other to lean on and grow on."

The league is particularly helpful for those who are not open about their sexuality. "It's important for my mental health to meet other people who are like me and not keep it all bottled up," said John, 21, a gay Fairfax resident. The support groups are helping him gradually come out.

"It's very important that I need to come out. I can't live a lie," said John, who requested anonymity because his family and friends do not know he is gay.

About 40 percent of the league's youths come from Maryland, 30 percent from the District and 30 percent from Virginia. More than 60 percent of the league's clients are minorities. Most of the volunteers are white, but the league is actively recruiting a more diverse group of workers.

Craig Bowman, executive director for the league, said that youths who come to the center are getting younger. He estimates the average age has dropped from 18 to 16 in the past couple of years.

Dave Grossman, 14, of Rosslyn, found the league about two years ago in the Yellow Pages. "Kids are coming out younger and younger because society is letting them," he said. "Developments in the media are helping teens feel more comfortable and come out."

The league provides a hot line, support groups and free HIV testing. It works with the nonprofit Helping Individual Prostitutes Survive to bring young gay prostitutes off the streets. It is recruiting gay couples to act as foster parents. Such a program is needed, Bowman said, because 26 percent of gay youths leave their homes because of conflicts with their parents over sexual identity.

Tony Quintilla, 19, moved out of his house after telling his mother he is gay. "She's very religious and didn't take it very well," he said. "It took her a year to get used to the idea."

Quintilla dropped out of school and spent two months using drugs and alcohol. He eventually moved back home and graduated from high school. Part of his turnaround he attributes to the league. "I used to talk in a fake low, deep voice that was like acting. I got sick of it. I didn't want to be a fake gay man who is not himself," Quintilla said. "I feel so comfortable I can be as gay as I want, show my true colors."

Return to P.E.R.S.O.N. Project Home Page