April 20. The Day of Silence.  A day where we remember all those who have taken their lives as a result of bullying related to their sexual orientation. A day I am glad I can still take part in.

Nearly two weeks have gone by since I celebrated my one-year anniversary of coming out and, while this may seem inconsequential, it marked a turning point in my life.

I was driving home from the beach with my mother April 8 of last year when I told her I was gay. It was impulsive, something that even up to that point, I was not sure I would say. It was a decision that had kept me up the entire night previous, with no clear solution.

I remember sitting alone in my grandmother’s beach house, awake at 2 a.m., reading article after article online, trying to decide whether I would tell my mom — how I could tell her. I remember the tears streaming down my face as I read stories and statistics of teens getting kicked out of their house after coming out to their parents. I remember thinking, “How can I live with this reality? How can I face the fact I’m gay?”

In the years and months leading up to my coming out, I had often contemplated killing myself. Numerous times I had gone so far as to think about the logistics of such an act: Would I jump or swallow pills? Stab or hang myself? Could I fall from my bedroom window — or would I have to go higher still?

I never could decide, but I think if I could have, I would have followed through.

My freshman and sophomore years were particularly hard as I struggled to accept that I may be gay, but when I got to my junior year I experienced true depression. Having lived with the constant fear someone would guess my secret for nearly two years, I plunged to new depths of despair when my father did just that.

I quickly tried to deny it, to push him away from the very idea, but when I got home that night and heard him discussing matters with my stepmother, I knew I had failed.

I don’t think I ever came so close to actually killing myself as I did that night.

Thinking back, it’s times like this that truly evidence how much further our society has to go before we reach a point we can say we truly accept homosexuality. If we do not change how we talk about gay people in the public sector, this fear of being “outed” will continue to torture queer youth everywhere and will continue to result in gay suicides.

While I never faced the bullying that so many others do, I was constantly confronted with the reality that my society was generally against my existence. At school, people threw around anti-gay remarks as generations past had done with racial slurs. At church, I was told to pray for the gays, because without accepting Jesus Christ into their hearts and renouncing their ways they would surely go to Hell.

My pain was never physical; it was always mental. I was never harassed or beaten, but I still bear the emotional scars of my earlier years. In some ways, I think it would have been easier to have been beaten. Then, at least, the wounds would have healed.

Although I was never bullied or harassed for being gay, I know what it’s like to be driven to the point of deciding between hanging yourself or throwing yourself out a window. I know the inner turmoil you go through when coming out. I know the pain, but I also know that it gets better.

It gets so much better.

When I came out to my mom last April, I expected the worst; what I got was the exact opposite.

My mom joked with me that day, saying this meant she could start pointing out all the cute guys she saw. My best friend and I spent the next evening discussing the guys at our school. And in the weeks that followed, I found myself inundated with new friends and peers who accepted me for who I was.

Without that support, I doubt I would be around today. Without that support, I would have made up my mind about how I was going to kill myself and I would have followed through. When I came out, I was in such a dark place, had my mom not accepted me, I could have committed suicide that night.

It’s hard coming to the realization you’re gay. It’s harder still getting to the point where you can talk about it with someone else. But, when you do, you realize there’s a whole community waiting for you.

The Day of Silence is a chance for us to show those who have yet to come out that a community that accepts gays does exist. It is a chance for us to show those who have come out that we, as a society, accept the gay people in our lives for who they are.

Through the simple act of staying silent, we not only show our support for a community traditionally estranged and ridiculed, but we show our commitment to protesting the derogatory remarks that result in gay-youth suicides.

We cannot pray the gay away. We cannot estrange the gay community and hope it will go away. We cannot bully the gays into submission. There was a time when that may have worked, but that time is not now.

Times have changed and complacency can no longer continue. By taking the vow to remain silent for the day, we can help show that gay bashing is no longer acceptable. More importantly, however, we can help show the gay community — both closeted and openly gay members — that we support them and we pledge to protect them from the derogatory comments made against them.

Together, we can show the silent suffering discriminatory remarks inflict upon our community.

For more information, visit www.dayofsilence.org to find out how you can help end the silence.

Austin Wright-Pettibone is an Inglemoor High senior.