I am a flamboyant, freethinking, tattooed, makeup-loving, kaleidoscope haired, licensed cosmetologist. (If you haven’t figured it out yet, I am gay. Surprise!) But these are not the features that make me most interesting or garner the most animus from others. I am also a Republican. (Gasp!)
I was born impoverished in a small, drug-infested town to a drug-dealing mother. My big brother has Asperger’s Syndrome, and my sister –two years my senior—got pregnant at age 14. Living in extreme poverty, I was either under the roof of whatever hotel we could afford, or homeless, living under the drooping, and torn fabric of an automobile roof. A drug dealing, and addicted mother is not exactly going to spend what little money she has wisely. This made us homeless for most of my childhood.
From an early and impressionable age, I was taught by my mother that “people who own a car and live in homes instead of apartments are evil rich people.” She would exclaim that “all republicans are evil Christians who use God as a way to hold power over us poor people,” and it was their fault we were living on the street or in random seedy hotels.
I believed her.
When I was 13 years old, the California foster system entered my life. My sister (with her baby in her arms) and I routinely escaped the confines of foster care to find our mother. Mom would attempt to hide us from the social workers, but they always found us. As an adult, I now realize that a home built around a nuclear family structure home is considered normal for good reason, and is exactly what we desperately needed. We, being indoctrinated by our mother, perceived such home environments as oppressive prisons.
When my sister turned 18, she was able to leave foster care. I was only 16 at the time, so I was left to fend for myself in the system. This was especially hard for me. My sister was the most important person in my life. She was my protector, the one who fought for me, told me I would be okay, and the only person I KNEW would be there for me no matter what.
I ran away from the foster system one final time—this time to live with my sister and her child. For about a month, I was on the run before being caught again. Brought before a judge, he bluntly asked, “You are not going to stop, are you?” Defiant, I replied “NO!” That’s when I learned about emancipation. The judge explained that since I was just shy of my 17th birthday, I could qualify for emancipation with the stipulation that I get a job and pay my sister rent. I took the judge up on the offer.
Soon, I moved in with my sister and her “undocumented” boyfriend. Life seemed to be looking up for this boy as I tasted freedom without fear of being hunted down. Part of me was resistant to the idea of conforming and getting a job. To overcome this, I focused on my goal of getting back with my sister where I would feel safe. The clouds were just over the horizon, however. Within four months of living with my sister and her “undocumented” boyfriend, I obtained a job and enjoyed my experience of earning money. That first paycheck gave me an incredible feeling. My work efforts were represented right there on paper! Contrary to what my mom had told me, being paid for work by a business did not feel evil. In fact, I felt the opposite. My paycheck made me feel more confident, and determined to succeed.
When my medical benefits, meager as they were, kicked in, I was finally able to go to the dentist. What a wonderful feeling. On Friday of that same week, I toured some new apartments with my sister, and signed a lease. Following that happy and monumental event, I left to spend the weekend at the beach with a friend. My sister stayed behind with her child and boyfriend.
How did a poster boy for the Left turn into a Republican? Keep reading.
My weekend was off to an amazing start. My very first dental appointment down, it was time to see the ocean. Almost 17 years old, I had never seen the ocean. What an amazing sight to behold. The ocean was mesmerizing. I remember passing through the neighborhoods of beautiful homes and people that reminded me of the stereotypical rich people you see in the movies. They looked just like the “Republicans” my mother claimed were evil and mean. Some tried to engage me in conversation, but I ignored them. In my indoctrinated mind, they were “evil Republicans.” Everyone who was rich, or appeared to be rich, had to be a Republican. Only the poor were Democrats, I thought.
The next morning, I received the worst phone call of my life. My sister had been murdered by her boyfriend. Somehow, I had felt safe around him for months. It turns out he was an illegal alien and known MS-13 gang member.
Words cannot describe the devastation I felt. My sister was to most important person to me in my life. I could not even begin to imagine life without her. Yet here I was, stripped of everything I had ever known…ever thought was reality….I began to see the truth of how scary and bad the life I had been living was. Desperate, I wanted never to be a part of that existence again. It seems even in death, my sister was protecting me, guiding me. The next reality felt as if a knife that had already been thrust into my world was being pushed even deeper and turned even more. This reality was that the apartment lease I had signed on Friday largely depended on my sister’s income. Homeless again, this time I was truly on my own. I had been betrayed by a man I considered family. My sister and I had been inseparable until we were separated in the most horrific of ways.
Next to my bedside, I showcase the picture I have had of her since the funeral. Still in the same frame, now broken, I refuse to change it.
I am not going to describe the case itself in high detail. Just know it is a lot harder to convict an illegal alien than an American citizen. That made me so enraged! Perhaps the cruelest part is that he was allowed to attend the funeral. He was escorted by police, but got to attend nonetheless. Think about that: a murderer, who was living in the country illegally, attended the funeral of the woman he killed. Thanks to the Trump administration, some laws have changed since this occurred 10 years ago.
While, once again, homeless and helpless, my friend, who accompanied me on my trip to the OC (Orange County), allowed me to stay with him in Huntington Beach until I could get my affairs in order. Living in Huntington Beach, I got a local job and worked my way up to sales associate. I soon enrolled in school. School opened my eyes to some of the harsh inequalities of the programs put in place by the Democrats. When I went to sign up for school, I had no parental income to declare, so I was listed as an independent in the college system. Applying for grants and as much financial aid as possible, I quickly discovered the racist politics behind affirmative action. As a white male, I was discriminated against. As I discovered, you can get a grant for every skin color except white. You can even get one for being a woman, but not for being a male. Instead of the “privileges” I am constantly told I have as a white male, I found suppression. During this time, from my perspective, the Obama administration was eight years of amazing speeches, broken promises to all minorities, racial animus against whites—and no progress.
I was able to attend school by taking out loans, which I am still paying. Determined to honor my sister and make something of myself, I graduated at the top of my class from nursing school, and again a few years later from beauty school. By that point, I had come to see the love people have for their homes and families, and wanted to experience that myself. My mother was so wrong.
NOT EVERY PERSON WHO OWNS A CAR AND LIVES IN A HOUSE IS RICH.
I was lied to. It was these “middle class, evil Republicans” who took me in, trusted me to make something of myself and showed me that rules and discipline are not forms of abuse and torture but instead are there to help shape us into contributing member of our society.
By the time I turned 24, I had gained a love for hard work and the results it brings. I started giving back to charities, coordinating charitable events, and giving back to groups ranging from LGTB causes to Veteran associations. I was very well known and active within the OC LGBT community. In fact, I was the only person outside of drag to be hosting clubs and events on the mic. I never talked politics with any of my friends within the community. At the time, I thought I had made unbreakable life-long relationships. Boy, was I wrong!
Now fast forward to 2016…
By that time, I was popular in the LGBT scene. I ran for a socio-political position known as “Mr. Gay OC”. It’s a position wherein a person represents the gay community of Orange County at places and events, such as town hall meetings, store openings and various speaking events. I was the first candidate in 5 years to have corporate sponsorships including some from out of state! Beating every other candidate in fundraising, I was widely considered a shoo-in. Having nailed all the stages at that point, all that was left for my crown was to win the fashion segment and the questionnaire portion. Being the only contestant who was also a hairstylist (a very well-known hairstylist), I knew I had it in the bag. I was wrong.
Rarely discussing politics with my constituents, I knew I had become more Republican-leaning, but never viewed that as an issue. Naive, I thought I was part of a community that celebrated tolerance and freedom of thought and choice. On stage, having just rocked the swim wear competition, it was time for the questions. Sailing through the questions I was finally asked, “Who will you be voting for in November?” I answered, “well I think this country needs some structure and based on my examination of the campaigns, I find we will obtain more structure and better value for all Americans by voting for Donald Trump!” You have heard of mic drops. Well, this was instead a collective jaw drop. Abruptly, I was informed of my unfitness to represent the gay community. Just like that, in less than 25 minutes, I had thrown away the contest and my reputation.
I lost my events, was blacklisted from the gay community, and received extreme amounts of hate, both online and in person. “Hate” is saying it lightly. I had to stop going out to gay events. Then November 8th came, and Trump won the election. Although I was happy, I was in more fear than ever. My fears were validated as I started receiving death threats almost daily. My home was vandalized, my car was vandalized, web and social media pages were created labeling me a drug addict. My personal history was broadcast in a dark light to dehumanize me, and I was ostracized from the LGBT community. I was alone again. Ever since moving to Orange County, the LGBT community had been my safe place. Everyone I knew and had been able to go to for help had othered me. I was no longer welcome. Thinking it could not get much worse, I was physically assaulted.
Backed into a corner, I was determined to prove that the Left had brainwashed all my friends, and I wanted them to know it. I started making videos on Facebook live, and studied both sides in-depth. I used social media to speak out about what is going on in the LGBT community, and the left’s plans to use my community, and other minority groups as political puppets against the Republican Party. To me, the Republican party fights with moral integrity, love, and strength. They do not play identity politics like the left. I find they take a much stronger, principled stand for individuality and tolerance. I have received almost nothing but support and love from the right. I never got a chance to prove myself or prove these things to my friends. Supporting Trump was enough to lose them all. So, I got new friends, a strong connection to the Republican Party, and a respect from the right that will forever stay with me.
Through social media, I have been able to open so many minds about the right, and explain why I am now a Republican. I have been fortunate enough to be able to change points of view as to what a Republican should “look like.” I have been deeply humbled by people telling me my videos have brought their families together. Many young people like me thought that because they are gay, wear makeup, and/or do drag, or simply are a bit androgynous, they must vote democrat. That is a stigma I am determined to dismantle. Our sexuality, skin color, or lifestyle should never dictate our vote or ideology. Yes, I have been through a lot in my life. I have experience extreme poverty, homelessness and hopelessness, loss and hostility, yet I was able to make something of myself when all the cards were stacked against me, because our constitution put forth the framework for a country that will allow me the freedom to succeed. I do not look at my past and remember it as a nightmare, but instead as a struggle. It is a path that brought me to where I am today, warts and all.
If you take anything away from my story, focus not on the sad parts but instead the strength and determination to stand with a nation that uplifts one another, gives equal opportunity to rise, and a party that does not use their own people as victims to further their political power. I will forever vote red, so long as our constitution is the determining factor. Remember, always treat every American with respect. We do not have to live the same lifestyles or believe in the same gods, or even agree on the same things, but we all do have to live in this world among diversity of all sorts. All should respect each other as equals regardless of age, sexuality, religion, race, sex or location. I don’t mean this in a liberal fantasy sense where we only uplift those who we feel should be, or by putting down some groups to uplift others. I mean it in an AMERICAN, hardworking, respect for all people and groups under this beautiful constitution sense.
I know that if it is possible to be a rough-around-the-edges, makeup-wearing, tattooed, F-Bomb dropping, gay boy, who enjoys a beer or five can find a home in the Republican party, so can you. VOTE RED.
We are victors, not victims.
This column is in dedication to my beautiful angel, best friend, and coolest person I have ever met–Kimberly Ann Martin 1986-2006