Joto, maricón, mariposa, pato — just a few of the words I heard other students (and their parents) call me throughout middle school. Unknown to them, I grew up in an authentic Mexican-American family, so I knew the meaning of their words. Each word was a variation of “f*ggot,” and even the way they said it sounded cruel and disgusting; mariposa no longer meant “butterfly” to me.
Regardless of what people thought of me then, I walked from class to class seemingly unscratched; I would walk home hand-in-hand with the girl I claimed to like, only to find myself hours later sitting in my room in confusion — thinking about boys.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-andrade-pimienta/5-tips-for-bullied-lgbtq-youth_b_1668645.html?utm_hp_ref=gay-voices