‘I Won’t Change You’

In November 2019, Mary Jane Chiles received the type of phone call no grandparent ever wants: Pick up your grandson from school and take him to a crisis lifeline clinic. He’s having suicidal thoughts, the voice on the other end explained.

“He was in high school and was having visions of driving his vehicle off the road and committing suicide,” shares Chiles, fighting back tears.

She drove him to the clinic that day and waited for his parents to arrive.

Max, a sophomore at the time, recognized the distress signs and went to see a counselor, who then called Chiles. A retired English teacher, Chiles lived and worked in Oklahoma, but later moved to Rapid City, S.D., to be closer to her family.

In towns across the country, LGBTQ+ teens like Max are facing similar distress—and the support of their families can make the difference between life and death.

The harmful effects of social isolation

For Max, his struggles began before high school. Despite having a loving family, he faced external challenges.

Growing up in the Midwest, particularly in a culture that was resistant to difference, Max often encountered social isolation and discrimination, Chiles explains.

“There is at times no social exception if you’re not White, Christian, and straight,” she says, remembering a specific moment that highlighted Max’s struggle.

If you or someone you know needs help, call or text the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988. 

It was during a gym class in middle school. The group was trying to complete the presidential physical fitness standards, a series of exercises that typically consist of a one-mile run, pull-ups or push-ups, sit-ups, shuttle run, and sit-and-reach.

“He was outside, trying to complete [the exercises], and when he looked up, he was alone,” she says. “The PE teacher and the rest of the class went inside. Nobody said anything; they just left him.”

Chiles suspected that Max’s peers and some of the adults around him sensed he was gay and intentionally shunned him. “He wouldn’t allow me, as a retired teacher, to go up and confront the school,” she recalls. “He said, ‘It’ll just be worse.’”

Moments like these contributed to Max’s loneliness and anxiety, which became even more overwhelming by the time he reached high school. Then the pandemic­ made him feel even more isolated, pushing him toward suicidal thoughts.

What true acceptance looks like

Chiles feels fortunate that her relationship with Max is based on open communication and unconditional support.

“I have four grandchildren, and they’re very different. We each do things together that they’re interested in,” Chiles says. One likes to ride dirt bikes, another enjoys ballet, the other likes to hike in nature, she shares. And Max likes to play video games or watch the reality TV show RuPaul’s Drag Race.

“He and I watch the competition and discuss the various candidates—who we think should win the show,” she says. If they’re not watching a TV show together, they’ll catch a drag show or go out for a spa day, getting manicures and pedicures.

“In fact, he selected my favorite nail polish color,” Chiles says.

This type of acceptance and support are key in helping LGBTQ+ young people thrive.

Who’s at risk?

When LGBTQ+ young people lack adult acceptance, it increases their risk of suicide attempts, according to The Trevor Project, a national suicide prevention organization.

The group’s “2023 U.S. National Survey on the Mental Health of LGBTQ Young People” found that among survey participants who had shared their sexual orientation with an adult, almost 88 percent reported that at least one adult was accepting of their sexual orientation.

Of those without an accepting adult, nearly 19 percent reported a suicide attempt in 2023, compared with 14 percent with at least one accepting adult.

Max comes out

When Max was a rising ninth grader, he decided to come out to his family, meaning he chose to share his LGBTQ+ identity with them.

“There was no official announcement,” says Chiles, explaining that Max one day started talking about some of his transgender friends, and then dropped an, “Oh, by the way.”

“The only thing his parents said was, ‘Love whoever you want to love, but we demand grandchildren,’” Chiles says with a laugh. She had a similar message: 

Today, Max is a second-year college student, navigating college life with more confidence than before.

“Academically, he’s doing better,” Chiles says. She proudly reports that he is considering a major in psy­chology, a field that may allow him to help others facing similar challenges.

Her message to grand­parents facing similar sit­uations: “If you loved your grandchild before they [came out] to you, just continue to love them,” she says. “They’re the same person.”