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Remember that I was out of the closet at the age of sixteen. My parents knew I was gay; I'd had to tell them.

The moment to tell my barber I was gay just never came up.

I was about 15, 16 years old when my father first ran for mayor, and that's where I cut my teeth.

My hair used to be real long, and my parents were encouraged when I cut it. They thought I was going 'straight,' but I was just getting weirder - at least in their eyes. I was getting into the punk thing.

I was in the closet, so to speak, until after the fifth year when I was cancer-free.

I was a closet straight. I think I wanted to be gay because I thought it was arty and interesting. And also, I was phenomenally shy with girls.

I came out to my parents as gay, and then I realized, you know, four or five years later, that I wasn't really happy, no relationships were working, and there was something missing in my life, and you know, I was doing drag, performing and stuff, and I realized through that arc that I was much happier doing that.

By the age of 9 or 10, I knew that I had to cut my own cloth and make my own way.

It wasn't a secret that I was gay. I'd come out to my parents during my junior year of high school, on the day that I also wrecked the family car.

For three years, I had embarrassing haircuts.