I don't have alot of memories prior to the age of 15... and for all of you who have an undersanding of counselling 101, you will know that this is symptomatic of abuse. I am quite aware of this and also know that when the time is right, I will face those issues. Mostly what I know of my childhood (through family stories and such is that I was a loner and that I was very different from my siblings and the kids that I grew up with. Up until I was 15... most of my time out of school was spent in solitary activities and dance class... I loved to dance and it was something that I was good at. Apparently it was something that I took alot of razzing for for... but obviously not enough to make me want to stop.

In late 1974 (I was 14) my father took a job in the Yukon and I was informed that we were moving. To say that I was non-plussed would be an understatement. I had finally reached a point where I was finally integrating into my school... I had begun organizing events (something that I was to discover that I could do) and had discovered the stage. In the early morning of January 1995... we set out for the great white north.

Teen Years In The Yukon

Looking back on it all, my life in the Yukon was a mixed blessing. I was afforded many opportunities and experiences that I would have otherwised missed had I been living in a city... some of them good and some of them pretty horrible.

While in the Yukon I did theatre, got to travel quite a bit (I became involved in politics and even got my scholarship to the University of Ottawa to work as a page in the House of Commons and represent the Yukon).... conversely, I slowly had my sense of self worth decimated by the daily ridicule and harassment by the majority of the community. I was tormented on a daily basis, being told that I was useless, ugly, a wimp... etc.... it reached a point that I actually began to believe all that I was being told. By the time I moved to Vancouver when I was 19, I had no sense of self... and was definately just looking for someone to accept and love me.

By fifteen, I had started working full time in the Hotel in Faro as an escape from my peers. I worked as the front desk and dining room from 4 PM til midnight during the week and on the weekends along with other p/t jobs to fill my days. I figured that if I kept busy with work that time would move quicker and at least the adults in the community would see what a responsible young man I was. (Well, I did garner a certain amount of respect for my abilities... but there was always an underlying tone of disdain in peoples voices).

The Yukon was where I had my first sexual encounter ... unfortunately it wasn't consensual... I was sexually assaulted at a party at the lake by a very large burly miner. I was 16 and his justification was that I was a "fag" and it was what I wanted anyway. This was the first of three such experiences that shaped my concept of not only sexuality but my sexuality for many years. The concept that physically, I was nothing more than an object to be used (and abused) by anyone that cared to was one that took many years to dissapate.

ESCAPE.... LIFE AS A YOUNG ADULT

After graduating high school... I couldn't wait to get out of the Yukon.... and out into the world. I left for University in the late summer of '78. Hitting Ottawa was great. I stayed in residence and was the novelty for the guys. Everyone else was from Ontario or Quebec... but me, I was the guy from way up north. I was introduced as ..."This is Asher... he is from the Yukon". Between classes and working in the House of Commons as a page, life seemed wonderful.

I was approached by a member of parliament (future Minister in the Mulroney cabinet) while working in the Opposition Lobby one day. We were chatting about a paper I was writing about language differences, he seemed impressed and asked if I would like to discuss my ideas over dinner. I was awestruck that anyone in his position would actually care what I had to say and jumped at the opportunity. We went out for dinner the following weekend and he tried to seduce me back to his apartment. I actually had to make him stop the car and threatened to get out and walk home before he agreed to take me back to my residence. That was my first experience with "more subtle" art of "a man manipulating my insecurities".

Over the course of the next few years, I spent time in Winnipeg and back in the Yukon. I ended go back to the Yukon when my brother was in a serious car accident and there was a fear he wouldn't make it. I had just started working as the night auditor for a hotel and recieved a phone call late one evening... it was oldest brother calling to tell me that my other brother had been in an accident.... it was one of those calls that between answering the phone and the person at the other end uttering the first words... I seemed to know everything that they are going to say (this has happened to me several times over my life and they usually involve tragedy). His first words were "There has been an accident..." and the next line was "Pat is in the hospital but they think that he is going to make it". Between those two sentence fragments, my mind was flooded with images and I knew exactly what he was going to tell me. The very next morning we were on a plane to Whitehorse. My brother survived, unfortunately, his best friend that was driving with him didn't. I ended up staying the Yukon, to support my brother while he healed, but more to support my mother.

I went back to work for the Hotel, at first at the front desk and in the dining room and in the bar but within a few months had bought into the lease and was a third business partner in the venture. This was an interesting experience for me. Here I was managing the front desk and bar of the hotel, now in a semi-position of authority dealing with all the people who tormented me throughout my teenage years. Being the bar manager in a tiny mining town that had just two bars, tends to change the way people treat you. Fristly, because most of the patrons work for the mine or construction companies that do contract work for the mine they can't usually make it to the bank in town, so the hotel is like a second bank, often the best place in town to cash cheques. Also, in small communities with little for recreational and cultural activities, the bar is often where people meet to socialize. All of a sudden, people who had treated me so disdainfully, were nicer, friendlier and in some respects even treated me as thier peer. In the beginning I attributed thier shift in attitude as just a recognition that I was now an adult, but it didn't take long to figure out that they just found great advantage in having an "in" with the bar manager. Within a year, all of the feelings that had motivated me to leave in the first place had resurfaced and I needed to escape. I was now 20 years old and felt that I was stuck. I was living an asexual life, knowing that I was attracted to men, but also that in a closed community like this I would never be able to act on them. I had visited a friend of mine in Vancouver in the fall of 1989 and discovered the West End, for me and very many other Canadian men, a Gay Mecca, a place where you didn't have to hide who you were.

By May of 1980, I was flying down to start a new life in Vancouver. A life where I could be who I wanted and in the process, hopefully discover myself. When I arrived, I stayed with my ex-business partner's husband who was now working in the city an set out to find a job, find myself and find love.

� 1996 [email protected]

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