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"My Name Is Chris Wilson"

Chris Wilson was a year or two ahead of me in high school. He was gorgeous. Blonde, dark brown eyes, sculpted chest, cocky attitude, impish grin, and more. I wasn’t in love with him; I was in lust with him.

Everyday in gym class, yeah, mostly in gym class, I would see him and see how his shirt would be unbuttoned... to just the furthest it could be so unbuttoned without it being all the way unbuttoned... and it was all too much for my mind. I remember particularly well one time when a female classmate enjoyed playing with his buttons for several minutes while they both smiled and lingered suggestively.

I never really met Chris Wilson. I'm sure he didn’t know who I was. But his impact on my lustful mind during my high school years was treacherously close to madness. I still go blind reminiscing sometimes.

A few years later, I went through the early stages of the 'coming out' process. For the uninitiated, this can include short or long periods of time during which one toys with the idea of possibly coming out. It's like seeing what might happen if you put your toe in the pool and if it will be warm. For me, this initially involved late night phone calls to the Gay Hotline number I found in the phonebook.

I was so scared to call. Each time I called I panicked that somehow someone would find out. But I so desperately needed to talk to someone about what was happening. I was all of 18 years old and lost in a heterosexual suburban world.

My first phone call with them was all about how I hated myself and I hated these homosexual thoughts and I was a terrible person and sinful and I would cry and cry. And these gentle souls on the other side of our local LGBT hotline would try their best to listen and console and advise. They and I finally, during one later call, agreed that it might be good for me to meet other Gay people and they found a men's group that met clear across the other side of the city for me to go to. And I wanted to meet other Gay men by this time because I wanted to see who else was out there. And I was lonely.

I went to my very first meeting in the basement of a church where about 6 or 7 men sat around in folded chairs. Each one introduced themselves. "My name is Chris Wilson," I said.

Well, I couldn’t use my real name of course. And 'Chris' was close enough to my name that I thought I could recognize it. And well, I didn't figure Mr. Wilson would ever know I usurped his name while in my closetary adventures.

For a long while after that I continued to be "Chris Wilson."

On November 12th, 1989, 4 months before I would officially Come Out publicly to my family and friends, with my toe still dipping into the water occasionally, I said my real name for the first time to someone Gay.

His name was David Weeda and he was marching with ACT-UP Kansas City during the "March for Women’s Lives" rally in Jefferson City, Missouri at the state capitol. He and a few other Gay men from the newly formed ACT-UP chapter had joined the many women’s groups from around the state to show a pro-choice, progressive voice to then Governor John Ashcroft (R-Missouri). As I saw David and his friends being out and proud and vocal, something rattled inside me, that maybe, in this crowd of people I didn’t know, I could be myself. I went up to David, asked him what ACT-UP was, and walked with them briefly. And then I told him my name. My real name.

In that moment, I suddenly felt scared and devastated and nervous and joyous and clean and lighter all at the same time. I went to my first ACT-UP Kansas City meeting shortly after that March where I sat among numerous Gay men in a downtown complex talking about AIDS and activism. I told them my real name that night too. And David was sweet and talked to me before and afterwards.

I didn't really understand what ACT-UP was at the time or where all history of activism had come from or what happened in NYC with Larry Kramer and his speech and all the deaths and devastation around the country. I didn't really know much about any of it. All I knew was that it was the first Gay place where I didn't feel I needed to be "Chris Wilson" anymore. I was me.