Street kids struggle to own their image
By Jay Corcoran
When Yuri Peresnyakov turned 21 on March 1, he gave himself an unusual birthday present. He called his parents in Yekaterinburg, Russia, to tell them he was gay.
His father disowned him, ordering him to vacate the apartment in Charleston, S.C., that the father had been subsidizing for the son. Rejection is not unusual for many young people who reveal gay, lesbian or transgender sexual orientations to their families. Some seek solace and self-respect by moving to New York, a place known for diversity and acceptance. With that in mind, Peresnyakov left Charleston and arrived in New York on April 4.
On a cool night in early April, Peresnyakov stood outside Sylvia’s Place, an emergency shelter for homeless lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youth in Midtown Manhattan. As he watched the endless stretch of cars that feed into the mouth of Lincoln Tunnel between 9th and 10th Avenues, he tried to make sense of the last month and his new surroundings.
“I feel misplaced, like I’m on a roller coaster of emotions,” Peresnyakov said. He lit one cigarette after another.
Peresnyakov is not alone. The teenage years can be particularly rocky for young adults who wrestle with the images they want to project to the world. But when a young person struggling with sexual orientation or transgender issues has no family or community support, an already fragile self-image often shatters.
“It touches some core issues to be rejected by your family and be homeless when you are young. It’s a sense that I am not good enough to have a home and a family,” said Kate Barnhart, director of Sylvia’s Place.
More than 3,800 young homeless people lived in New York City last year, according to a survey conducted in 2007 by the Empire State Coalition, an advocacy group devoted to the rights of homeless youth, runaways and street youth. Sixty-two percent of that group identified themselves as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or unsure.
Many of the young people move in and out of foster care or turn to alcohol and drug abuse, prostitution, drug dealing and abusive partners as they try to mask the trauma of rejection, Barnhart said.
One of the places where young people seek help in developing healthier self-images is Sylvia’s Place. Founded in 2003 and named for the late activist and transgender woman Sylvia Rivera, the church basement doubles as a kitchen during the day and dormitory during the night and provides shelter for 20 young men and women. Without a job, money, friends or family, Peresnyakov found a bed here on the ground floor.
“I feel like I am a character in a novel. Only I wish I was reading it and not living it.” Peresnyakov said.
He vacillated between an image of freedom and self-acceptance and an image of being pathetic, fueled by his parents’ rejection of him.
“Maybe it’s true?” Peresnyakov said. His voice cracked and he blinked rapidly to keep back his tears.
Another resident at Sylvia’s, Aoife Murphy, 18, could have just walked off the set of “Gossip Girl,” with her red hair and large hoop earrings.
A poet and performer who said she had been in foster care since she was 12, Murphy said she had moved in with her grandfather, whom she described as an alcoholic, when she was 16, but left after he pulled a knife on her. Then she spent a few years bouncing between friends before ending up at Sylvia’s in December.
After six days in New York, Peresnyakov felt determined to get a job and rebuild his life. Looking at a group of homeless men on a Greenwich Avenue sidewalk, he shuddered and quickened his pace. “I have to find a job,” he said.
After spraying himself with Victoria’s Secret women’s perfume and applying makeup to cover his blemishes, he visited about 10 Chelsea and Village restaurants and coffee bars, asking for work.
Although he might have to live in the shelter indefinitely, he is not happy there. “The people are nice but it smells and you have to use the blankets from everyone else,” he said. “I am afraid to put my head on anything.”
Peresnyakov came out of one restaurant with a huge smile and “a thumbs up” sign.
“I think they are going to call me for a dishwashing job. I am so happy,” Peresnyakov said. “If you had told me six months ago that I would be happy to get a dishwashing job, I would have told you, ‘You are crazy.’ But I am happy. I have hope.”
Less than two weeks later, no one had called Peresnyakov about a job. Too depressed to look for work again, he called his friends in Charleston, who paid for a one way ticket back.
In Charleston, he plans to find a job and save enough money so he can move back to New York.
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