A New York Summary: Part 8 of 10

STANLEY

My nephew Stanley is a 14 year old drama queen. The funny thing is that I'm pretty sure he'll grow up to be a drag queen as well. 

Ever since Stanley was born he has been a salsa dancing, hip shaking, sass bearing little brat. Everyone in my family has pretty much ignored his prancing, though it is undeniable it's ten times stronger than anything I allowed to escape as a child. I envy his freedom. 

Growing up, my family was always trying to change me. They wanted to make me butch. I even remember the day my brothers got me a prostitute. I remember that day with dread. The thing is though they never asked me if I was gay, nor would they ever accept anyone else saying it either but it didn't stop them from reminding me that it was wrong. Long rant short I left home at 17 (running away a couple of times before then) and have stayed away since. My mother was devastated and would beg me to return home but over the years has learned to stop asking. 

Now that Stanley is a ripe teenager things are very different for him. No one has tried to change him nor tell him that his ways are wrong. A couple of years ago he was being severely bullied at school and my family actually pleaded with the city to send him to a private school where such behaviour would be monitored closely. They succeeded and now Stanley loves school instead of being afraid of it. 

I like to think that my family's mistakes with me was the learning curve that allowed Stanley his freedom. Unfortunately for him, he's not very bright (I should point out he has a learning disability) and so I can't see him having the ability to just up and leave for college should things at home be worse. Then again he could surprise me. 

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that he needs their support a lot more than I did, and for that I am grateful for having gone through it before him. Especially since what he has in store for the future is much harder to accept than anything I had in store. 

Stanley's drag name is Cindy Middleton. He's been walking around with a rag on his head since he was a toddler and refuses to be called by any other name. My mother used to think he had multiple personality disorder but little did she know he has just been practicing his performance and gauging his audience. 

When the day comes I'll be sure to applaud him as he walks off that stage.