In a previous issue
of The Independent Gay Writer, Jeffrey L. Williams brought us the
real-life story of "From
Kenya, With Love" (Part one). He makes a departure from that story
in this issue with his observations of a street kid.Bryce in the City©
by Jeffrey L. Williams
| Jeffrey
L. Williams... I have been writing since I was at least ten years old. My very first completed book was called "Luthoria" and it is a little over six hundred pages long. I began writing it at the age of eleven and finished it by thirteen after two and a half years of hard work, research and dedication. In recent years, I have had my work published in major newpapers and magazines all over the United States and everyday that list is growing. Currently, I am contributor to a NYC area gay and lesbian magazine. Please write to let Jeffrey know what you thought of his article. He will be glad to hear from you. In coming issues, watch for Part Two of "From Kenya, With Love," and Jeffrey's own coming-out story. |
Bryce in
the City... If you were to walk through Penn Station in midtown NYC, you may run into Bryce Jenkins, a seventeen year old gay teenager living on the streets and surprisingly the product of a somewhat privileged upbringing. When I first met Bryce, he was shifting through the garbage cans in search of food. He didn’t look too shabby to me. His clothing was in pretty good shape and his skin was clean and clear almost as if he had just washed it. When I approached him, he asked me for a few coins so that he could have a candy bar or something to eat. I reached down into my pocket and only found a twenty dollar bill and my debit/credit card. Instead of telling him that I was not comfortable with giving him my last twenty dollar bill, I just took him to the nearest luncheonette for a sandwich and a warm bowl of soup. During our lunch at the Au Bon Pain café, Bryce began to confide in me the ins and outs of what I learned was a terrible life and upbringing. He also told me that what I had seen when I first met him was an illusion of sorts. His clothing was in pretty good shape and they were from Old Navy but he was not shifting through the trash for food. It turns out that he was looking for a newspaper in search of either a job or a place to learn a trade so that he could find a position in the future. His story to me was one of great intrigue and terrible pain and sadness. The night that Bryce’s life came crashing down on him was on probably the worst day in his life. It was December 11th to us but to Bryce it was his seventeenth birthday. The day began as all his prior birthdays had. He woke up to his parents and older sisters Manny and Sarah singing happy birthday to him and giving him his gifts. His parents had bought him a new Courtier watch and his sister bought him a collection of DVD’S of his favorite artists. It certainly gave no impression that anything would have gone wrong but it did, drastically and within hours of his traditional birthday song. At around seven that evening, Bryce received a call from his friend Carlos Montoya. Carlos and Bryce had plans to take him out for his birthday to a gay club on Long Island, NY. When the plans were being made over the phone, Bryce’s mother, Terri Montoya had picked up to call her sister when she overheard Carlos talking about how hot the boys at the club were and what he should wear. Terri heard that the club was theme oriented and the theme of that night was “jungle.” The theme was that everyone had to dress like an exotic animal from the jungle. When Terri overheard the conversation, all hell broke lose—and that is putting it mildly. Terri—not your traditional bible pushing, right wing conservative anti-gay zealot—just broke through Bryce’s door and took away almost every luxury he had in his room including his DVD player, surround sound stereo system and a forty inch television set that he bought himself for his high school graduation. Bryce was overwhelmed by his mothers thrashing both physical and verbal. While destroying several of his belongings and most of his priceless items, Terri grabbed a few plastic bags and ordered Bryce out of the house immediately. Not coming from a broken or abusive home, he was kind of shocked and surprised at his mothers’ almost dangerously aggressive attack on him. “When she started to throw things at me from inside of my closet and yelled to me to leave her house and never return, I knew that she had finally found out my secret. This is the reason I never wanted to tell her anyway.” Though Bryce knew that she would find out one way or the other, he didn’t know just how she would react. Most will say she reacted not unlike many parents, others would argue that she did the right thing when faced with the sad reality that her son was a “fag.” Bryce put it simply when he said, “This was the way she wanted it. This is the way it is. This is what I am and I am not sorry.” Bryce is now faced with another dilemma, how is he going to get himself back on track? He has refused to be taken in by his friends; besides he would only be allowed to stay temporarily anyway. Bryce did the unthinkable and the unimaginable; he decided to live out on the streets and start from scratch as if he was reborn at seventeen years old. While sipping on a cup of coffee and finishing up on his teriyaki chicken sandwich, Bryce told me of stories about his life on the street as a result of his parents and his sexuality. When Bryce first slept on the street, he had just his watch, which he said was his only real connection to the former life he had. After he had awakened the following morning on Seventh Avenue and Tenth Street, the watch was gone, but his hopes were not. Every morning when he woke up hungry and cold, Bryce would shift through the morning papers in whatever newsstand would allow him to browse and make appointments with employment agencies only to be turned down because of what his current financial and living situation is like. Bryce has an amazing view on life. He sees everything that has happened to him as a challenge that he has to overcome. He feels that he has been given the opportunity to see just how strong he really is. He thinks that he has had it easy for so long that he has to finally fend for himself like a man should. I guess one can see where he is coming from because his mother is a successful interior designer and his father is a market researcher, so he and his two sisters had never known what it’s like to earn an honest dollar through hard work from a nine-to-five job. Aside from his amazingly positive outlook on what has been a horrible life these last four to five weeks, I learned that some of us who even have it pretty hard in life with our bills, have it pretty easy when we compare ourselves to the fortunate who was at one point privileged. As the day and our conversation closed, Bryce extended his hand to thank me for allowing him to tell his story. I must admit that when he extended his hand, I felt a little ill at ease with touching it, but as Bryce pointed out to me, I was wearing thick leather gloves and our skin would not make contact. At that point I removed my glove and shook his hand and wished him luck in the future. Bryce then looked at me and thanked me one last time then disappeared into the cold, NYC darkness. |