Joel Burns tells gay teens "it gets better"

Madame secretary.

[Secretary]: Announcements
by city council members and staff

regarding upcoming and recent events
and recognition of citizens.

-Now Mr. Birch.
-Yes sir.

Mayor as you know, we are gathered
here today in our pink shirts

to bring awareness
to the fight against breast cancer

here in Fort Worth
and across the globe.

But tonight I ask
my colleagues' indulgence

in allowing me to use
my announcement time to talk briefly

about another issue
that pulls at my heart.

Ron, would you go ahead and run the...

The parents of Asher Brown,
who you can see above,

complained to school officials
in the Cypress Fairbanks ISD,

outside of Houston,

that their son was being bullied
and harassed in school.

The bullies called him
"faggot" and "queer,"

they shoved him,
they punched him,

and in spite of his parents' calls
to counselors and principals,

the harassment, intimidation,
and threats continued.

For years, it continued.

A couple of weeks ago,
after being bullied at school,

Asher went home,
found his father's gun,

and shot himself in the head.

His father found Asher dead
when he came home from work.

Asher was 13 years old.

I'd like for you to look at his face.

Unlike Asher,
Indiana teen Billy Lucas,

who never came...
never self identified as gay,

but was perceived to be
by bullies who harassed him daily

at the Greenburg Community
High School.

Three weeks ago, he hung himself
in his grandparents' barn.

He was 15 years old.

Minnesota 15-year-old Justin Aaberg
came out to friends at age 13,

after which the harassment
and bullying began.

It grew as he moved
from middle school to high school.

When he found the harassment
more than he could bear,

he hung himself in his room,
and was found by his mother.

Classmates started teasing
and name-calling Seth Walsh

in the fourth grade.

It continued through
his middle school years,

where other students told him,
"the world didn't need another queer,"

and that he should, "go hang himself."

On September 18, after being threatened
by a group of older teens,

he went home,
threw a noose around a tree branch,

and he did just that.

He hung himself in his back yard.

His mother...
[inhales and exhales deeply]

his mother saw him,
pulled him down.

Seth survived on life support
for nine days

before dying a couple of weeks ago.
He was 13 years old.

Teen bullying and suicide
has reached an epidemic in our country.

Especially among gay and lesbian youth,
those perceived to be gay,

or kids who are just different.

In recent weeks,
New Jersey teen Tyler Clemente

jumped off a bridge, to his death, after
his roommate outed him on the internet.

Rhode Island teen Raymond Chase
hung himself in his dorm room.

And we learned just yesterday
of Oklahoma teen Zack Harrington,

who killed himself
after attending a City Council meeting

in Norman, Oklahoma, where speakers
made disparaging anti-gay remarks.

There's a conversation
for the adults in this room

and those watching to have.
And we will have it.

That this bullying and harassment
in our schools must stop,

and that our schools must be a safe place
to learn and to grow.

It is never acceptable for us
to be the cause of any child

to feel unloved or worthless,

and I am committed
to being a part of that conversation.

But tonight, I would like
to talk to the 12,

13, 14, 15, 16, and 17-year-olds

at Paschal, and at Arlington Heights,
and at Trimble Tech high schools.

Or at Daggett and Rosemont
middle schools.

Or any school in Fort Worth.

Or anywhere across the country,
for that matter.

I know that life
can seem unbearable.

I know that the people
in your household,

or in your school,
may not understand you,

and that they may even
physically harm you.

But I want you to know
that it gets better.

[long exhale]

When I was 13,
I was a skinny, lanky, awkward teen

who had grown too tall, too fast,
who would stumble over my own feet.

I was the son of a Methodist church
pianist named Jeanette,

and a cowboy named, fittingly, Butch,
in Crowley, Texas.

As their son,
and as a kid in a small town,

there was a certain image
of who I thought I was supposed to be.

But as I entered adolescence,
I started having feelings

that I didn't understand,
and couldn't explain.

But I knew they didn't mesh with the image
of what I thought I was supposed to be.

I was a sensitive kid,
but friendly,

I was a band dork.
I played basketball, but not very well.

I was teased like all kids,
but I was fairly confident,

and I didn't let it bother me much.

One day when I was in the ninth grade,
just starting Crowley High School,

I was cornered after school
by some older kids who roughed me up.

They said that I was a faggot,
and that I should die,

and go to Hell where I belonged.

That erupted the fear
that I had kept pushed down.

That what I was beginning
to feel on the inside

must somehow be showing
on the outside.

Ashamed, humiliated, and confused,
I went home.

There must be something
very wrong with me, I thought.

Something I could never let my family,
or anyone else, know.

[council member]
Catch your breath.

I think I'm going
to have too hard of a time

with the next couple
of sentences that I wrote,

and also I don't...

I don't want my mother and father
to bear the pain of having to...

hear me say them.
[crying and sniffling]

[council member]
Take your time.

So I will just say,
and I'll skip ahead,

I have never told this story to anyone
before tonight.

Not my family, not my husband,
not anyone.

But the numerous suicides in recent days
have upset me so much,

and have just torn at my heart.

And even though there may be

some political repercussions
for telling my story,

this story is not just for the adults
who might choose,

or not choose, to support me.

This story is for the young people
who might be holding that gun tonight,

or the rope, or the pill bottle.

You need to know
that the story doesn't end

where I didn't tell it
on that unfortunate day.

There is so, so, so much more.

Yes, high school was difficult.

Coming out was painful.

But life got so much better for me.

And I want to tell any teen
who might see this,

give yourself a chance to see
just how much life—

how much better life will get.

And it will get better.

You will get out of the household
that doesn't accept you.

You will get out of that high school,
and you never have to deal

with those jerks again
if you don't want to.

You will find and you will make
new friends who will understand you,

and life will get so, so,
so much better.

I look back and my life
is full of so many happy memories

that I wish I could share
with those whose photos

were shown up above earlier,
and those who have taken their lives.

Memories that I wish I could share
with the 13-year-old version of me

on that very unfortunate day.

If I could,
I would take the 13-year-old me

by the hand, and take him
to the campaign office in 1992

of then governor Clinton,
where for a very speechless moment

my now partner J.D. Engel and I
saw each other for the first time.

I would take that 13-year-old me
to the first day of spring in 1999,

on a West Texas ranch hilltop,

surrounded by a dozen head
of black Angus cattle

who thought we were there to feed.

And as the sun set,

turning the sky pink,
and purple, and orange,

in a way
that only a West Texas sunset can,

I jabbed my hands into my jeans pocket

and pulled out two rings
I'd literally spent my last dollar on,

and slipped one onto J.D.'s hand,

and asked him
to spend the rest of his life with me.

I would take the 13-year-old Joel
to election night in 2007,

in a room filled
with countless family and friends,

erupting in cheers when it became clear
that I would win my first election,

so that they could see
the love and support for me

that was in the room that night.

And I would take the...
[inhales]

I would take the 13-year-old me
to just a few days ago,

at Baylor Hospital, to see our dad.

[inhales and exhales]

Our dad who's no longer
the 40-year-old tough cowboy

that he was when I was 13,
who I thought would never understand me,

but is now the 67-year-old dad,

still pretty tough cowboy,
who has grown older.

And the 13-year-old me
would see me today,

holding my dad's weathered hand,

and see my dad
as he woke up from his operation.

And him squeeze my hand
and look up at me and say,

[crying]
"Joel, I'm so glad you're here today."

And me say back to my dad,
"I am too, Daddy, I am too."

To those who are feeling
very alone tonight,

please know
that I understand how you feel.

But things will get easier.

Please stick around

to make those happy memories
for yourself.

It may not seem like it tonight,
but they will.

And the attitudes of society will change.

Please live long enough
to be there to see it.

And to the adults,

the bullying and the harassment
has to stop.

We cannot look aside
as life after life is tragically lost.

If you need resources,

please check out
thetrevorproject.org online.

And you can call me, and I will get you
whatever resources you need.

My number is 817-392-8809.

I want to thank those in this room
for allowing me this time.

And to J.D. and the rest of my family,

I am sorry for you learning
of this painful personal story

in this public way for the first time.

But know that I am able to tell it
because of your love for me.

And Mom and Dad,
I'm alive today because you loved me.

Again, attitudes will change,

life will get better,

and you will have a lifetime
of happy memories,

if you just allow yourself,

and give yourself the time,
to make them.

Thank you.

[applause]

[council member] Ladies and gentlemen,
we're going to take a ten-minute recess

and we'll get back to the agenda.
[gavel pound]