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ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: When my mom told me we were leaving for Omaha, Nebraska, I didn't want to go. It would have meant me moving for the 17th time. I didn't want to leave Minnesota. I had become comfortable here. It was the first place in my life I felt accepted. I told my friend Alex from high school what was going on. And Alex's grandmother, Jeri Ezaki, said I could stay with them. Hello. Next thing I knew, I had a new family. Can I get a hug now?
JERI EZAKI: Yes, you can--
- Thank you. Grandma Jeri, as I call her, lives three blocks from Lake Harriet in South Minneapolis. I started living with her when I was 15. So what really just possessed you to bring this completely socially awkward, mentally unstable child into your house that you had never seen or heard of before?
JERI EZAKI: Because Alex vouched for you--
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: [CHUCKLES]
JERI EZAKI: --for one thing. And besides, you needed a place to stay. And although we don't have much room in this house, we made room for you.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: I slept in Jeri's basement and became part of her family for four months. But one day, I got a call from my mom in Omaha saying she was cutting off my health insurance. I don't want my medical bills piling up on Grandma Jeri. So I decided to go back to my mom in Omaha. That was a mistake. After I moved back in with my mom, everything went downhill.
I was always depressed. We were always fighting. I was in and out of the psych ward, trying to run away from home, doing badly in school. Then in the last month of my junior year, I was raped by a close friend of mine, an older man that I had trusted and admired for some time. That's when Alex said, "You're coming home." When I moved back in with Grandma Jeri, she noticed a change.
JERI EZAKI: I think when I realized that you really knew who you were is when you were able to say on the phone to your mother, "Mom, I'm gay. And that's not going to change." I think that was a turning point for you to be able to say that straight out to your mom.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: I remember my mom saying she was sorry. When I hung up the phone, Grandma Jeri gave me a hug. But eventually, I felt like I didn't want to be a burden on Grandma Jeri. I moved out. Then I got kicked out of the place I was staying. I bounced around to some shelters and friends' couches. But by February of my senior year, I found myself behind my high school, Avalon Charter School in St. Paul, sleeping behind the trash cans.
I actually tampered with the idea of sleeping in the trash can, which was full at the time. But it seemed like a dangerous idea to fall asleep in the trash can. I mean, I was cold but not cold enough to risk my life. So I slept-- well, waited to sleep behind the trash can. And then I moved on to the docking area behind the school just because I also saw some people walking by.
And again, another dangerous thing for being out homeless is there are people who mug you when you're sleeping, people who make sexual advances towards you when you're sleeping. I eventually ended up getting on the bus two blocks down the street on University and Snelling, and I rode the bus until 6:00 AM. I scraped by a few more nights like that before I got a spot in a shelter again. According to advocate Rocki Simoes, my story is fairly typical of what she sees at avenues, a 15-bed youth shelter where she works in North Minneapolis.
ROCKI SIMOES: The vast majority of queer youth who are homeless in this state are youth of color.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: I fit that. I'm Black and Native American. Simoes says the problem of gay homeless youth really came to light in Minneapolis after District 202 opened in South Minneapolis in 1992.
ROCKI SIMOES: The community center was intended to be a drop in center for queer youth, and we didn't anticipate that so many of those queer youth would be homeless and that we would be needing to look at resources around housing and homelessness.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: Four years later, in 1996, Simoes started pairing gay teens who were homeless with people who had spare bedrooms. The host home program helps about 10 to 15 teens and young adults a year. In 2006, the Wilder Foundation reported 13% of homeless youth in the Twin Cities were gay. Simoes says the national numbers are higher, more like 20% to 40%. Gay kids who are homeless have two strikes against us. We don't have any financial security and we don't have parents watching over us, helping us make good decisions.
I needed advice on relationships, so I turned to Dan Savage. He writes a relationship advice column called Savage Love that's published in alternative weeklies around the country. My views on relationships are based on the advice he gives. Savage says most of the teens who write to him want advice on coming out to their parents or finding other gay teens so they don't feel so alone. He doesn't get a lot of letters from kids who are homeless.
DAN SAVAGE: Well, I've heard from kids who were thrown out of their houses. I've heard from kids who are engaged in survival prostitution. And that's, you know, very depressing and sad, you know? I've been doing this for 18 years. Those letters now are so far outweighed by parents writing me who want to do right by their kids that they believe are gay or know to be gay, who want my advice about how to be good and supportive. And that's a real sea change.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: Savage likes to hear from parents trying to help their kids. He's concerned about the parents who'd rather avoid dealing with their kids' sexual identities.
DAN SAVAGE: You can't do that to your gay teenager. They can't fly blind like that into adult sex and adult relationships.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: Because I do see that a lot with-- even with parents who accept their kids--
DAN SAVAGE: Quote unquote, "cool about it." They don't want to meet the boyfriend.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: Exactly. Kind of like my mom. [CHUCKLES]
DAN SAVAGE: Which is crap because then you're going to be taken advantage of. You know, one of the things you go to your family for when you first start dating is they're more finely-honed BS detectors. They may be able to spot a pattern of abuse or a jerk because they've got more experience.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: I don't have those parents Savage is talking about, screening my dates or paying the bills. I've been getting by on my own.
[BEEPING]
Oh, you have coupons for me, sir? I'm sorry.
SPEAKER: I do.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: I've held a job at Cub Foods in a diner for three years. Even when I was homeless, I took the bus here and made it to work on time every day. Regular customers like Lilas Freitag check up on me and make sure I'm in school.
LILAS FREITAG: He's my favorite, so--
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: [CHUCKLES]
LILAS FREITAG: --I always have to look for him.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: You were the first person to pester me.
LILAS FREITAG: Yes, I was. Yes, I was. Well, it was good to see you again. Stay warm, whatever you do.
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: I never really had a home growing up or a close family. And now Minnesota will always be my home, no matter what. I have a life here. I'm taking classes full time at Minneapolis Community and Technical College, paying my rent, and getting health insurance through my job. I still worry. There is a 50/50 chance I'll end up homeless again. But for the most part, I've made it through the worst and I have hope in myself. For Minnesota Public Radio News, I'm Roy Lee Spearman Jones.
Oh, you came prepared, sir.
SPEAKER: Yeah. [CHUCKLES]
ROY LEE SPEARMAN JONES: I think you're like--