I have not felt since childhood that I was born into the wrong gender, the wrong body, as transgender individuals feel. But I understand something of what they are going through: By the age of six, my identity, as a gay man, was set.

Until the third grade, my family owned a two-family house on Homes Ave., two blocks from our current home on Longfellow Street. Our family members were devout Catholics and I attended St. Peter’s School until the third grade, when we moved to North Cambridge, where I continued at St. John’s School. In the first grade, as was the custom, I made my “First Communion,” a Catholic coming into “the age of reason” ritual.

As part of that ceremony, the kids were given a small prayer book along with other religious tokens. One section of the book was dedicated to a devotional practice called “the Stations of the Cross,” which commemorates the trial and execution of Jesus by the Romans. Each station had an illustration and in one of these a Roman soldier was pictured as a muscular young man with a skin-tight pink (I kid you not) T shirt. I was attracted to and fascinated by this illustration. This was not a choice of mine or the result of indoctrination by others. I was not “groomed” by my straight parents or anyone else. But looking back now, I understand that my sexual identity was already set at the age of six. I kept that little prayer book for decades.

At that time, I had no words to describe my reaction to the illustration of a man who looked like he had just walked out of a gym and onto a “Station of the Cross.” My fascination was not born of a religious experience; it took me twenty-five years, laced with confusion, denial, fear and self-loathing, to accept that my excitement and attraction to men was a defining aspect of who I am.

During those decades I knew no gay men. My straight Catholic family were not haters, but homosexuality was so foreign to them that there weren’t even gay jokes in our house. I was alone in my ignorance and turmoil. I am the oldest of twenty-two first cousins, on my mother’s side. My mother was the matriarch of her generation and, as her son, I was raised to become the patriarch of my generation who would father children with a woman. I was a public-school educator at a time when becoming known as a gay man would end my career, so fear kept me from self-awareness.

Growing up, I dated girls, and then women. I lived with a woman who assumed that we would one day marry. I even proposed to a woman. But I was never physically attracted to any of the women with whom I was romantically involved, or any other women, for that matter. I was only sexually attracted to other men.

When I finally came out it was after years of work with a straight therapist, I was overjoyed immediately because I finally knew who I was. I was also extremely lucky to be accepted by my family, friends, and colleagues. I was fortunate that it was a historic moment with overlapping movements of liberation: feminism, gay liberation, civil rights, etc. I became the co-chair of Dorchester GALA (Gay and Lesbian Alliance), managed a state Senate campaign for an openly gay candidate (Kevin McFadden) against a world class hater incumbent, changing politics in Dorchester forever, fought for marriage equality, and was a co-founder of DotOut, which is still going strong.

My six-year-old self wants to wrap my arms around every child who has awakened to the knowledge that their gender was mis-assigned at birth. Their sexual identity was not a choice and it was not the result of indoctrination or grooming, but it is real and an indelible part of who they are. I want them to remember that the sexual identity of the straight haters also was not a choice of theirs or the result of indoctrination or grooming. I want them to know that they can survive the hatred of those for whom cruelty is the point, even a pleasure. I want them to hear that we have fought them before, and we have beaten them repeatedly. I want to say to them, “Cling to those who love you. Take strength from those who will fight for you. Learn to fight. Your turn will come to stand up for others who are oppressed: there is a great variety of oppressed people, but all the haters are the same.”

June is the month celebrating the fight against hate: LGBTQ+ Pride, Juneteenth, and Father’s Day. Celebrate every person’s right to their own identity. Raise up love, and in so doing, fight hate.