A minority within a minority.

The life that I had in Kuwait as a young boy was a painful experience for me. From the age of 7 to 15, I experienced many things that people would be ashamed to even acknowledge. I was exposed repeatedly to sexual relations with teens and adult men, some of whom were part of my extended family. My naivete as a boy always reinforced my silence, protecting those men. How could this be wrong if he is such a respectable man in the eyes of my father? I used to ask myself.

In the Middle East and many other parts of the Muslim world, it is common for men in their teens and adulthood to experiment sexually with other guys. The segregation between the sexes in daily traditional Islamic life is a contributing factor to this underground culture. Many of these men get over their childhood experiences when they marry and have children, but there are some, like myself, who are gay by nature.

I was born in Ocala, Fla., but my family soon moved back to Kuwait. I realized around age 7 that I was gay. At age 16--when my family and I were stranded in America during the invasion of Kuwait--I finally opened up and came out to them. Things didn't turn out too well, and my relationship with my parents has never been the same, due to their inability to accept my sexual orientation. They are back in Kuwait, and when I do visit, the subject never comes up.

I left the Middle East in 1990, and when I moved to Orlando, Fla., in 1997 my life as a gay man grew to be more open. I had a good job, close friends, and a decent livelihood in the banking industry.

Then September 11 happened. I was traveling on vacation that fateful day and found myself stranded in Denver. The airport searches were a lot more intrusive and thorough, especially for me. On the plane back to Orlando a man in uniform was seated beside me, and I realized later that he was probably an air marshal. It was only when I was back home that I realized the gravity of what had happened that tragic day. Terrorists, most of whom were Saudi nationals, had hijacked planes and had used them to attack this wonderful and open country of mine.

When I went back to my job at the bank the following Monday I was surprised to find three senior managers waiting for me. I hadn't even clocked in yet and these guys were firing me on the spot. I was one of their best employees and I had nothing bad on my record. It was the first time I truly felt discriminated against in my country, and this time it was not understandable.

The next few weeks were even worse. I was virtually trapped in my home for almost three weeks watching hate crimes occurring on the news and fearing for my safety. I felt like I was closeted again. As an Arab-American living in Kuwait, I was subjected to much discrimination; I was constantly being physically beaten and verbally abused by my father and peers just for being the odd one out, and post September 11, I felt this coming from my fellow American citizens. It felt like being a minority within a minority, and the discrimination from my employers and the public hurt.

Months later, when things calmed down, I decided to get more socially involved by giving back to the local gay community. At a community center, I registered and started my own organization, Reflections, which caters to gay, lesbian, and bisexual people in their 20s and 30s.

The abuses and challenges that I've been confronted with in my life have been the driving passion that has enabled me to be more active and vocal.

The reason why I want to tell my story is because I feel like there are so many gay people among the millions of Arab-Americans in this country who may be able to relate to my life.

There are many other gay individuals like myself, not only in America but in the greater Islamic world, and these people don't have a voice, because if they speak, they are at risk of being ridiculed or even shot dead. I am willing to take this chance to bring something out of the closet and make it an open debate in the restrictive and intolerant Islamic culture.

As told to Kevin Kumala