Role Models

"Well, obviously we're not supposed to buttfuck these kids." -- Wheeler

Earlier today, I was sitting with a friend in his attic bedroom discussing life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Really, we were discussing drugs, alcohol, anonymous sex, and the price of tea in China, but life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness just sounded like a better way to start out a post about being a role model and specifically growing up gay in Omaha, Nebraska without any real male role model to speak of, and especially no gay role model. This came up because while discussing the less-than-savory aspects of my life with this friend, he brought up setting a good example for our younger siblings. He was speaking metaphorically because he has no younger siblings as of now, and it got us to thinking about how we grew up, and how we learned to be the us that we are today, and I thought it would make a good blog post. I should mention as a preemptive warning that I haven't really slept, and I'm running on caffeine so this post may suck monumental


I was born on October 11, 1984, at approximately 2:08 in the afternoon. It was a Thursday, if I remember correctly, and I do because I'm amazing. My mother was, and remains, Sheri Krimmel, and my Father was, and I'm pretty sure still is, Richard Perez. There's no telling with him though because drugs have a pretty heavy effect on people so, I'm pretty sure he's thought himself to be a number of people throughout his lifetime. That's neither here nor there, and I digress. I was born to my single mother, and, for the most part, she remained that way which meant that I never had a solid male figure-head in my home life. Being an only child for six years was rough enough, but being an only child without a father-figure made things especially awkward when asked questions about my family. i didn't really have anybody to teach me how to be a boy, and was, in fact, ridiculed by several of my mother's boyfriends through the years for my obviously feminine tendencies.

As Psycho has taught us, "a boy's best friend is his mother," and this was especially true for me. Even today, I showcase several characteristics of my mom, from mannerisms, to speech, to spelling and punctuation, even to how we sign our names. Our Ks are almost identical. She and I share several of the same morals, and belief systems and ironically we have developed separate from each other, which lends credence to the idea of Nature winning out over Nurture. It's interesting though, that even with the steady influx of my mother's male friends, I never identified with any of them, and those I did connect with were fairly feminine in their mannerisms already so I didn't have the masculine male figure to connect with.

Naturally, my mother knew I preferred men at a very early age. I myself remember insisting that I was going to change my name to Cornelius because he was Prince of the Fairies in Thumbelina at the age of six or seven. My favorite movie as a child was The Last Unicorn, and one of my mother's boyfriends once threw out a collection of My little Ponies that I had cherished in an effort to butch me up a bit. I thoroughly loathed him for the remainder of my life. I still don't care for him in fact. Clearly, I was a momma's boy, and that is how I would remain the the bulk of my existence. Even now, if I have a problem, or I just need to cry, my mother is the person I turn to. If I need advice or direction, I give her a call, and if I am having an emergency she is the person I trust. These things do not lend themselves to learning how to be a man though. They especially don't lend themselves to being a gay man. My mother did the best with what she had, which was very little, and for that I would like to say that I don't blame her too much.

When I finally admitted my sexuality to myself, and then to my family, I was still at a loss as to what it meant to be a gay man. I had never really defined myself prior, so it was weird for me. So, I did what I'm pretty sure every gay teen in America does. I turned to television. I came out around 2000, so I've only been an out gay male for about 11 years, which is less-than half of my life, but I was lucky, in that I had television to teach me how to be a gay man. Regrettably, television doesn't come with a realism filter, so instead of being Josh, I was a fabulously gay man as played by Josh. I put on the affected lilt in my voice, and popped that up two octaves, I wore outrageous clothes that were clearly drug-induced, and I told myself that this is how I was supposed to present myself.

If wasn't until I transferred to Omaha North High School and met Brad Fuglei that I found my first gay role model. I should clarify that I highly doubt Brad wanted to be a role model. If he knew that I was looking to him as an indicator of who and what I should be, he probably would have been disappointed in me, and might have even scolded me for not just being myself, but whether he'd like to believe it or not, Bradley Matthew Fuglei made it ok to be gay at Omaha North. He paved the way for gay teens to be comfortable, out and proud in a predominantly African American, lower-class, conservative school in North Omaha. For those reading elsewhere in the country/world North Omaha isn't the good side of town. It's the wrong side of the tracks and as close to the ghetto as you're going to get in Omaha. Anybody who doesn't agree never lived near 24th & Fort.

Brad taught me a lot about being gay. So much in fact that when he left North High, I went on to take on the responsibility of being the resident gay kid at North. After his death, I was the one Principal Haynes called into his office to talk about how the school was taking it. I was the one he asked to write the little note that went out to all of the teachers to read to their homerooms. For the incoming freshmen, I was the one who made it acceptable to be gay or bi in the halls of Omaha North High. Even four years after graduation, there was still some mention of me at North High. I showed up in November of 2007 and was greeted by Joseph Manley, the new choir director, as if I were an old friend. He even asked me to explain to the current show choir who Brad Fuglei was, and why there was an award named in his honour at North.

Without knowing it, I had become a role model at a very young age. Lately, I've had a number of younger people confessing their sexuality to me. Being the first grandson, declaring my sexuality and bringing boyfriends to family functions has made coming out infinitely easier for my cousins, and should either of my brothers decide they're going to be gay now, they'll have an effortless time doing it. It's weird to see this climate changing in Omaha, because I can remember a time when holding another man's hand was a lynch-worthy offense. Now, I can't imagine not feeling comfortable with holding my boyfriend's hand, if I had one, in public.

As the need for me to be a role model has faded, I've noticed a tendency to be less than angelic in my presentation of myself. While I was predominantly well-behaved in high school, and through my time in Arizona, returning to Nebraska, I've found that time has caught up with me, and I find myself doing and being things that don't represent a good role model. It's an interesting development in my growth as a human being, and something that I've had a lot of fun, and sadness, with examining and documenting.

I guess what this post boils down to is that sometimes, you don't know when you're being a role model and it is during those times that you teach the most fully and completely. Likewise, when you feel the expectation to be a role model, sometimes it causes you to overreact and overthink, which lends itself to slip-ups and pressure which eventually lead to mistakes. So, as a former role model, and present confidante, my advice is to be yourself, and not to blame your parents for messing you up.