“So we did it,” I brag to the guys at school.

Tshepo chokes on his sandwich. “Wha-a-t? Really?”

“Great!” says Musa. He slaps me on the shoulder. “And how was it? Bekunjani? [How was it?]”

“Amazing! Truly amazing.” I’m full of bravado. But I’m lying to them. I don’t show it, but I feel ashamed.

I tell myself that I had to sleep with Kebone. I had to see what it’s like with a girl. I had to test the feelings within me. I had to know what feels right, what feels wrong.

But what happened has only made things more complicated.

It’s becoming a struggle. I search for answers. Who am I? What am I? Why am I like this?

I search in the Bible. I find verses that tear me apart. But I go on wrestling with God. I try to make a deal. Make me different, and I’ll do anything for You. It feels to me as if He doesn’t hear me.

I look for answers on the Internet. I read other people’s stories. Some of them make me cry.

I search in magazines. In one of my father’s old Kickoff magazines I read about Xisco, the Spanish soccer player who came out. A gay soccer player! Most people simply accepted him as he was.

That’s the thing: acceptance.

But I suppose you must accept yourself first.

WHAT DO YOU THINK: Do you think gay people can still be good sportsmen or sportwomen?