I feel that my greatest talent is finding ways to intersect my passions together. I'm a busy college student with specific talents and passions in musical performance, teaching, and LGBTQ+ activism. As I continue through my education and pedagogy classes that work towards preparing myself for the world of teaching, I have grown strongly with intertwining my talents and passions to provide the best education and experience for my future students. Firstly, one of my earliest dreams was to be a rockstar. After fifteen years of studying piano and vocal methods, I started to include my knowledge of classical and jazz styles into my band (which will be releasing our first EP later this year). This band has grown so much that we were able to open for the infamous LovelyTheBand last April. I plan to take my joy of contemporary styles and incorporate a wide range of music into my curriculums to inspire students to find the joy and relief in music education. Ever since my past choral director sat at our piano and sang a song that embodied his love for us, it inspired myself to want to bring such a passion into the classroom for others. Asides from performing, a lot of my musical studies conjoin with my teaching methods. I dream to become a choral teacher, and I have put much of my musical knowledge towards teaching, where I have now have conducted, accompanied, and assisted several choirs as a student-in-training. Lastly, as an LGBTQ+ educator, queer curriculums, pedagogy, and inclusivity is an extreme priority. Through my years of activism and curriculum building with JMU's SOGIE Programming, I have been implementing inclusive pedagogy into my lesson-planning, providing more diverse repertoire and inclusive language. I'm bringing a new age of passionate teaching to our future generations.

Today’s media is full of queer representation. As we continue to commercialize new technological developments and our Millennials and “GEN-Zers'' arise from the generational shift, minority communities can finally be given the spotlight they rightfully deserve. Through streaming services, heartwarming LGBTQ+ stories can be viewed at the touch of a button, yet a trend can be easily found. Most of these stories cover the topic of “coming out:” a straining process that takes a lot of preparation and courage to go through in today’s society. In the media, it all looks so simple. I only wish these films could have truly prepared me for the hell that I faced as a victim of outing. I was never raised in a church, yet my family based their traditionalistic values on their biblical ideologies. Generationally, I was meant to carry down the tradition of being a white and heterosexual bigot, and with living in the conservative south, I wasn’t alone. With a family whom I strived to receive validation from and an area built on “God’s plan,” being a closeted gay child was the most frightening experience. I was caught between a rock and a hard place - I could either live my life committing self-identity fraud or become disowned, and this decision had a deadline. Life-changing actions start with little steps, and my first step was to confide to a close friend about the secret I had been withholding. Unfortunately, that first step led me off the cliff, for within a week, everyone would know. My personal life became the dinner gossip for every family, ultimately finding its way to my own. Relationships crumbled, my family turned dysfunctional, and any chance of parental validation was stripped from me every time I heard the cursed word, “Faggot!” I could only view myself as the slurs labeled by others as I was thrown into a life I mentally wasn’t prepared for. How could I ever love and accept myself when no one else would? No kid should have to bear the mental trauma that I had, and with that, a purpose was born. I want to be the person that can be looked up to. Though I lost my financial family support for education, I found the motivation to pursue music education. Music was a friend that guided me through the tumults and turmoils of being outed in High School. When I would play piano, sing, or compose, my grandiose problems became controllable and I found therapeutic relief. Using my education and musical passion, I plan to dedicate my life towards providing acceptance and validation to all LGBTQ+ youth, which is something I never found through my childhood. There is still a high rate in depression and suicide in LGBTQ+ youth, and having at least one figure in a person’s life can make a difference, especially when our school systems severely lack queer inclusion and education. Once I left for college, I began an AIDS education campaign for more inclusive grade-school curriculums, I volunteered as a peer educator to spread LGBTQ+ education on campus, I’m writing a musical handling identity acceptance, and I’m leading demonstrations to better educate our citizens on the issues facing the queer community. These little steps that I’m taking are just the beginning of my work yet to come. I faced my childhood trauma and turned it into something greater: a spotlight on our queer youth. I like to think that I would make my younger self proud. If my closeted, adolescent self could see me now, maybe my childhood would have been different. I overcame the stigmas, the adversities, and the mental trauma and shaped it into a cause that will fight for the safety and acceptance of every young kid who lays awake at night wondering when someone will love them for who they truly are. I work hard for them, but, I have dedicated much of my time to others that I often forget about myself. I am a proudly gay man, but even with all of my work and accomplishments today, I still struggle with self-love. It is ironic to see someone advocate so much for self-love, yet that same person finds it difficult to do for themself. Some parts of me haven’t fully recovered from my childhood, and I sometimes think that I never will, but I believe that trying for myself is my biggest accomplishment I have against my adversity. Life-changing moments just have to start with little steps at a time.

It is fascinating to think that I can attribute my self-acceptance as a gay man to the discovery of electricity. The connection is quite simple once broken down. In ancient Greece, amber and silk rubbed together and generated an electrical spark. By the 18th century, Benjamin Franklin connected static electricity and lightning through a key and a kite. As the years continued, electrical conductors and motors were invented, bringing electricity to the people. This lead to a rapid increase in technological developments, ultimately leading to Apple Corporations' introduction of the "iPhone". Then, the internet turned wireless and easily accessible through companies such as Verizon and Sprint. Finally, people could call each other at any time of the day, leading to the infamous call I received from a concerned and sympathetic friend back in 2018. Growing up as a child in rural, southern Delaware was difficult. I was raised on traditionalistic family values that had been passed down generationally. In fact, a majority of the surrounding area strongly worshipped protestant ideologies, and as a closeted gay child, I was their antichrist. I was hiding behind a mask, especially for my family, yet I knew that this mask would inevitably have to come off. The most frightening aspect of having to come out was that my family was strongly homophobic, and validation from them was all I ever sought for. I was caught between a rock and a hard place, where I could suffer through life as someone I clearly wasn't or be disowned by my family and peers. I knew I had to come to a decision. I had finally come to the conclusion that I needed to start the process of coming out by starting small and building from it. The first step I took towards sanity was telling a close friend of mine whom I trusted to accept my identity and keep it secret. This would lead to my ultimate end. By the following week, the entire high school knew about my secret. Friendly gossip lead to family table-talk and facebook messaging, ultimately finding its way to my parents. Any chance of validation was eradicated by the cut-throat first word that left my father's mouth: "Faggot!" And with that, my friendships became distrustful, my relationships collapsed, and my family turned dysfunctional. My life was in shambles, and I didn't know where else I could turn to. Then, I received a call. This call came from another close friend of mine that I had known for years. Her and I would sing and practice music together as kids, and we stayed close as we grew older. She had called to check on me, and after hours of talking, I had received not only acceptance, but guidance, validation, and comfort from her - something that I had been seeking for since I first knew. After being thrown into a tumultuous stage of my life, her call brought relief and balance, and I continue to inform her that her selflessness is a leading cause to my self-acceptance today. If it wasn't for the discovery of electricity, the invention of phones, and that inspirational phone call, I would never be the proudly gay man who spreads love and advocacy today. My friend and I now have left our hometown of Delaware and continue to study Music Education at James Madison University, where our friendship only continues to grow stronger. If one thing can be learned from this, it's that calling someone in need can make a difference and even save a life. Good thing I remembered to charge my phone.

I am a victim of being outed, and my personal experiences guided me to study music. Growing up, I was raised in a house that was not strictly religious, yet based its traditionalistic family values on Roman Catholicism and protestant ideologies. In rural, southern Delaware, our population was vastly covered by white and straight "children of god", overtaking all of the beach houses and country-club neighborhoods. I lived on the outskirts of suburban life, where you couldn't drive down a road without finding the Confederate flag. To simply put it, as a closeted gay child, I was scared. There was a time that I used to impress my parents. I had the girl, the grades, and the "dream" of becoming an engineering major. To my father - an acclaimed cook, NRA member, and licensed prick - I was becoming a child he wanted, and validation was what a son only ever wished from his father. There was only one issue: I was gay, and by high school, the mask of a heterosexual republican was slowly falling off, showing a queer leftist. To my area, I was the antichrist. I remember finally gaining the courage to confide to a close friend about my true identity, and when I did, the wave of relief that rushed over my body was therapeutic. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, for when I walked into school that next week, it was known by all. School gossip lead to family dinner talks and facebook messages that ultimately lead to my parents' awareness. From there, everything was ruined. My friendships became distrustful, my close relationships collapsed, and my family turned dysfunctional. Any chance of validation from my father was eradicated by his very first word of acknowledgement: "Faggot!" To an atheist high school student, it seemed like the apocalypse was real. Fortunately, throughout the tumultuous times of a newly admitted member to the LGBTQ+ community, there was only one thing that was steering me from insanity, and that was music. Throughout my childhood, I had dedicated a lot of my time (aside from hiding my entire identity) to music. I was the head of our musical theater department, a local classic-rock performer, a composer and playwright with performed works, the top pitched-percussionist in the county for 6 years, the top tenor in the state, and performed in NAFME's All-National Mixed Choir Ensemble. When I would play piano, sing, or compose new works, I would forget about my external troubles. Music was my own source of mental therapy. It took me years to realize this, but once the lightbulb appeared over my head, I knew what my purpose was. Desensitized from hate, I decided to direct my attention towards my studies. I halted my engineering work to hone my musical capabilities and begin my advocacy for minority communities and the LGBTQ+ community. Nowadays, I study Vocal Music Education at James Madison University with a cumulative GPA of 4.0. Along with my studies, I am the Outreach Coordinator and Peer-educator for SOGIE Programming, where I hold meetings, host podcasts, and lead lectures for college students about LGBTQ+ education and societal inclusion. Along with my extracurricular work, I continue my advocacy through my HIV/AIDS Education campaign and my LGBTQ+ inclusion protests. I continue to partake in these activities to ultimately lead me to my final goal: to spread music in schools to minority students. I want to be there for students in schools, whether they are members of the LGBTQ+ community or others, and be a person that they can seek for acceptance, guidance, or validation with their identity. This was something I never received as a child, and no student should have to go through the troubles I went through. Using my musical and advocative experiences, I plan to bring more inclusion to our schools, a typical subject that is severely lacking in many. I have come to realize that music's role in my life is to guide me through life's turmoil and anxiety towards felicity and self-acceptance. Music's power to help me become the proud, gay man I am today is inspirational, and I plan to dedicate my life to bringing music to the future generations of students yet to come. I may never be able to have a peaceful childhood I can look back to, but with music, my life now is bliss. I'll continue to ensure that my future students love themselves and each other for who they are. Music is the solution.

This photo is of a protest that I organized and led on James Madison University's quad. The demonstration was to educate our students of the issues within our nation's judiciary branch. With the recent appointment of Amy Coney Barrett to the Supreme Court, I gathered many students and protested for the separation of Church and State within a largely politicized 6-3 Conservative-Majority Supreme Court. With 77% of the court interpreting the constitution based off of their religious practices, many minority communities and non-protestant religions are both under-represented and in danger by our judiciary system. I needed to take a stand.

I find this meme funny because I have severe childhood trauma as a closeted gay child. Growing up in rural, conservative Delaware was hard when most of the people that I knew, including my parents, were very homophobic and against the LGBTQ+ community. Every time that a homophobic or transphobic joke or slur was said, I would have to laugh, for showing that it bothered me would have caused a lot of anger within my family, especially with my ill-tempered father. So, to survive, I would have to act like I agreed or thought that their jokes were funny. At that time, I still lived in their house and lived off of their bills. Now, I am self-sufficient and have to pay everything on my own while I prepare to move into my own house and work to pay off the student loans that I am swamped in. I find this meme funny and close to home because it represents my childhood, and comedy is my only coping mechanism I have for dealing with traumatic moments of my past.

If money wasn't an issue, I would still continue my studies as a Vocal Music Education major with a minor in Music Industry. Ever since I was a child, music has enthralled and inspired me. I began to play piano at the age of five and never stopped. Once I approached middle school, I met my mentor who led me down the path of Classic Rock. From there, I have been training in how to perform in rock bands and gigs, and in the summer of 2020, I had my own weekly show in Ocean City, Maryland. Along with the keys, I have been also training my voice to sing classically and modern. Performing in choirs provided therapeutic relief, and I continued to work throughout high-school to reach first-chair in my state, place in Nationals, and become admitted to study Vocal Music Education at James Madison University. Music has always been a close friend of mine, guiding me throughout the tumults and turmoils of my childhood. After having rough conditions at home and being outed as gay in high-school, life was never easy, yet music brought me peace. That is why I want to bring music to all in need. In the scenario of not having any issues with money, I would take my education and bring it to communities across the world. Since I plan to mix both musical studies with LGBTQ+ inclusion and acceptance, I would work to help communities that face harsh conditions for their LGBTQ+ citizens and provide guidance through music. I am aware of how cliche this sounds, but music has been known through many scientific studies to release anxiety and increase serotonin. While spreading my obtained knowledge worldwide, I would also work towards understanding their culture and relationship to music. Music plays a different role in many communities, and taking the time to understand and appreciate these cultural meanings is another big step towards worldly equality. With my time and money, I would also work towards funding this musical that I am currently developing to produce at JMU. This musical touches close to my heart as it covers LGBTQ+ acceptance, self-love, mental health, and inclusion. I plan to produce this musical in the hopes that it will inspire those who watch it to love themselves and all others they know and come across. Without any issues with money, I would strive towards expanding it into a nationally known production. There needs to be a lot more representation in the media and arts for LGBTQ+, POC, and other minority communities. If I saw a lot of LGBTQ+ characters in the media when I was a child, there is a chance that I wouldn't have struggled as much growing up. Lastly, with the unlimited funds that I hold, I would work towards helping students pay off their student loans and debt. I currently sit in a lot of debt as I continue my educational studies because my parents refuse to contribute to my education. For this, I work several jobs and study over 19 credits a semester (with all A's might I add), barely having any time to focus on myself. Students shouldn't have to go through the struggles that I face daily as I lay in financial instability. I would work to help every student study the major of their choice at the school of their choosing. After reading my response, you must be cracking up at the fantasies that I hold dear to myself. I will admit that I am still a child at heart, but even without this money, I still plan to contribute to all three of these actions. I want to bring music to the world for the purposes of spreading equality and fulfillment. I want to finish this production of mine that can be used to inspire someone who may be closeted and just needs a push in the right direction. I want to also help others achieve their own personal dreams as best as I can as a broke college student. If I never had an issues with money, I would accomplish these right away. For now, it is taking me one small step at a time. Fortunately, one small step in the right direction as a broke student is better than being rich and holding your ground.

Self-love is difficult to address as it connects to my childhood trauma as a closeted gay kid. Growing up in rural, conservative Delaware was hard when religious, heterosexual norms were praised. Local students who came out were chastised by their families and their peers, and if I were to do the same, I knew my outcome would be worse. In the past, I always strived to impress my parents, especially my father. He was never a man to show love. To my father, love was a sign of vulnerability, and being shot would be more pleasurable. Never receiving validation, I strived towards being what I wasn’t: a masculine, straight, far-right republican child who was taught to avoid “disgusting” homosexuality. By high-school, I was exhausted of being someone I wasn’t, yet I still hadn’t accepted the truthful fact that I was a gay, leftist child in republican territory. Unfortunately, my time of self-preparation was stripped from me when a close friend, who I confided to, outed me to my school and family. Unprepared, uneducated, and thrown into a life I had not yet established brought me to ruins. My mother was embarrassed of me, and with my father, any chance of validation was obliterated by exceeding usage of the term “faggot!” It was hard to love myself when no one else would. Many friendships of mine were destroyed. I didn't have parents that I could trust or confide in. My depression sky-rocketed and many thoughts of suicide ran rambunctious throughout my mind. I wanted to be normal. Normalcy was full of warmth. When I thought of normalcy, I thought of family Christmas dinners, movie nights, or having your girlfriend meet your parents. After I was outed, my family turned dysfunctional. Now, whenever I am home, we only have silent dinners, where the air is broken by a cough or the mental acknowledgement that the elephant-in-the-room must be addressed. But it has never been addressed. As I prepare to move out, all I can think about is the "nevers". I will never be able to have that close relationship with my family. I will never be able to have my future boyfriend meet my parents. I doubt they would even go to my future wedding. I'm not saying I want to live in a Hallmark movie, but at least those movies have their happy endings. I mostly blame myself for the downfall of my family, and I believe that this has lead to my difficulty in fully loving and accepting myself. I dedicate all of my time to my LGBTQ+ activism and teachings, my college studies, and my support for others in need, yet I hardly dedicate time to myself. I want to love myself. I try to love myself. Maybe loving myself will take longer than I thought, but as reflect on my childhood, I never think about changing it. I am now at rock bottom, and going up is the only option I have left.

The day I realized that I was gay was the end of a childhood that I considered happy. To start, I wasn’t raised religiously, but my family practiced traditionalistic values based on religion. Roman-catholic views reflected strongly on my mother's Italian and father's Irish family trees, though I never went to church. As a child, all I ever wanted to do was to impress my parents, especially my father. He was never a man to show love. To my father, love was a sign of vulnerability and being shot would be more pleasurable. Never receiving validation, I strived towards being what I wasn’t, and that was this masculine, straight, far-right republican child who was taught to avoid “disgusting” homosexuality. Once I had reached high school, I had started a relationship with the all-star girl of the school and the girl of my parent's dreams. She was the drum major of the marching band, at the top of her class, and the only problem with her was that I was gay. For once, my parent's were proud and happy of where I was, and it felt therapeutic. As time went on though, my anxiety and depression began to rise as I knew the time to come out was coming soon. I had known one of my classmates that had came out to our school, and the social reaction was explosive. The way that the student population had handled his brave action was horrific and worsened my own personal process. You see, the county of Sussex, which can be found in lower Delaware, is full of white, republican families who strongly practice traditionalistic or religious views. It is hard to travel five miles without spotting several confederate flags and "Trump 2020" poster signs. As a closeted gay child, living in this area struck fear in my heart, but I knew I would need to come out soon. In my junior year, I had confided to a close friend of mine about my true identity as a gay man, and there was a wave of relief that filled my entire body and soul. Ironically, this was the worst and best decision of my entire life. A week after the big reveal, I had walked into my high school and found out that the entire student population knew. I was practically outed to my high school before I could ever understand myself. Every relationship I held close was affected. The worst of it all was with my parents. My mother was embarrassed, and to this day I do not know if I could ever confide in her again. My father was a different story. Any possibility of acceptance or validation from my father was destroyed by his first word that came out of his mouth: "faggot!" We haven't spoken much since, but from the little conversations that we have held, this derogatory term wouldn't be his last. The remainder of my days in high school were difficult as a gay teen in a school of homophobic adolescents. It was here that I knew that I needed to join advocacy efforts to protect and support the future generations of LGBTQ+ youth. Nowadays, I am a student of James Madison University studying Vocal Music Education. At this institution, I have grown greatly in my self-acceptance and advocacy efforts. When I was a child, I could hard accept myself for being gay, but seeing that I am proudly out and expressive excited myself. I also work as a peer educator through a program called "SOGIE Programming", where I teach college lectures, host podcasts, and hold meetings for other students about LGBTQ+ education and inclusion. I have also led several protests about LGBTQ+ equality within our justice system and continue to develop my campaign for my old high school to provide stronger safe-sex/HIV/AIDS education to their students. Maybe I had never received validation from my parents, but to feel accomplished within myself is all I ever needed. These experiences are just the tip of the iceberg, but have made me realize many things about today's society, and a big part of that involves the hate I still receive at my university. I have been shared many dirty looks by those I pass as I walk down the street with my high heels and make-up on, or by the way I talk, or by the way I move my hands when I get heated up. I love to explore my feminine side, but unfortunately, my femininity still affects the masculinity of other. Although LGBTQ+ equality and acceptance is growing, there is also a growing ignorance towards prejudice that still attacks the community, and that is what I have realized from my experiences. The world may never change how minority communities are treated. As of today, gay marriages and families are still attacked by our justice system through threats towards "Obergefell v. Hodges" and "Fulton v. City Of Philadelphia". The transgender communities are at risk with the several bills that are trying to be passed that allow genital checks on students to participate in sports. We may be farther along on the road to success, but as we venture down this road, obstructions continue to block our paths. It breaks my heart to see all that continues to go down within our nation as well as others globally. In the end, my experiences have helped me understand the world. It is a dark place, and no matter how hard you work to be comfortable with being yourself, there will always be people who try to shoot you down. My father never showed love to prevent vulnerability, but we must do the exact opposite to create a safer and more inclusive society. Life in the LGBTQ+ community is going to be full of many hardships, but the biggest takeaway from my experiences is that life is not meant to go through alone. The more we join together as a community, the harder it is to try and shoot us down.