Meet the third of five Lake Highlands High School students to appear in our May 2017 issue about graduating seniors who, despite facing incredible obstacles are (to quote Lin-Manuel Miranda‘s Hamilton), young, scrappy and hungry.
Derek Gonzalez (Photo by Danny Fulgencio)
Derek Gonzalez wears side-swept bangs that dip below dark brows and obscure one eye; black-rimmed glasses cover his cheeks and magnify thick lashes. He speaks softly, but Derek says he is finally sure of himself and wants to share his story, even if it means upsetting certain family members, all of whom he loves beyond measure. “I am an open book. I don’t have anymore secrets,” he says.
Brushing hair from his forehead, he matter-of-factly discusses painful topics. Two events unleashed the darkest days of his young life; the effects led to self-harm, attempted suicide and three separate psychiatric hospitalizations before high school.
When he was 9, an adult sexually assaulted him. He was too terrified at the time to tell anyone what happened (he later shared the details with both psychiatric professional and his parents).
The second trauma happened in eighth grade, when Derek told his parents (who live separately) that he is gay.
“They were not OK with it,” he says. “Neither of them.”
Derek is close with his multiple siblings. All of them loved him unconditionally, he says, and don’t care if he likes boys or girls.
But Derek was desperate for his parents’ approval, something he cannot acquire “to this day,” he adds.
Despondency led to cutting his wrists and hospitalization to treat depression and suicidal ideations. He returned home with some self-awareness, but when he scratched and picked at his wounds causing them to bleed, his mom got so upset that she kicked him out. He returned to treatment. His mother would not allow him back home upon his release, so he stayed with his dad. Soon another depression sent him to his last stint at “rehab.” This time, he came out stronger. He ended friendships and behaviors that felt unhealthy. He wanted to get better, even if it meant going at it alone for a while. He started studying harder, reading more, retreating into his schoolwork, registering for Advance Placement classes and the college preparation program, AVID.
But home life presented further challenges. Living with his mom during junior year, Derek watched his mother and sister fight, sometimes physically, until his sister moved out. At his sister’s request, Derek went with her, in hindsight a misstep. She got into rebellious stage and brought aggressive boyfriends around. Derek says he hung out with her at parties — late into the night, sometimes drinking — just to watch out for her. He missed so many days of school that he had to take make-up classes.
He managed to catch himself before he fell too far. By senior year he had worked his way back into good standing at school. He has improved the relationship with his parents.
“He let me borrow his truck for prom,” Derek says of his dad, adding that he attended the dance with a group of friends.
Derek moved back into his mom’s apartment, where he pays rent. It’s an old building with chipping paint. A strip of rusty mailboxes line one wall of an open-air hallway. Seats, ostensibly removed from a van, are positioned in a row beneath them. Derek, his hair clipped short now, plops into one, giggling at the incongruity. Small children run up and down the corridor, shrieking happily.
The one-room unit — where Derek lives with his 19- and 7-year-old brothers, his 9- and 21-year-old sister and his mom, Elvira — effectively shuts out courtyard commotion. It’s tidy, showcasing small plaques emblazoned with religious words (“Blessed”) over doorframes. A metallic three-photo frame, the word FAMILY across the top, hangs above Derek’s bed. It displays black-and-white photos of a blissful, mostly blonde family on the beach — they’re stock images, one partially covered by a price tag someone halfheartedly attempted to remove.
Derek laughs about it, but it’s not clear if the frame is a joke, a metaphor or simply an incomplete effort.
Derek’s double bed, along with a long couch, occupies the main living room. The youngsters sleep in a studio area beside Elvira’s master bedroom. Kimberly, 9, is the only family member to hang around. Elvira is shy, Derek explains, and is awaiting the camera’s departure. Kimberly’s not. She interrogates the reporter who is questioning her brother: “How old are you?” “Do you have a dog?” “Do you like Donald Trump?”
She is giddy to have Derek home for a minute. Despite putting in some 30 hours a week at Grimaldi’s, he is excelling in school and deciding on a college. He has been accepted to Midwestern State University but isn’t sure he wants to be that far from his family. University of North Texas or a semester or two at Richland also are under consideration, he says.
He’s weighing either nursing or engineering as a future career, because he loves helping people and excels in math and science.
Derek has avoided romantic relationships, he says, choosing to focus on school and his family. His mom still encourages him to get a girlfriend, he says, shaking his head. He loves her and they share a very special bond, he says, but she is “one of a kind.”
Read about all the other students we featured, here.
