Today we’re spotlighting I Have Something to Tell You – For Young Adults: A Memoir by Chasten Buttigieg!
Read on for more about Chasten and his book!
Meet the Author: Chasten Buttigieg
Photo: Carina Teoh
Chasten Glezman Buttigieg grew up in Traverse City, Michigan. He is a teacher, advocate, and husband of former presidential candidate Pete Buttigieg. Chasten currently lives with Pete; their two children, Gus and Penelope; and their two rescue dogs, Buddy and Truman, in Northern Michigan. I Have Something to Tell You—For Young Adults is his second book.
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About the Book: I Have Something to Tell You – For Young Adults: A Memoir
The young adult adaptation of the hopeful and refreshingly candid bestselling memoir by the husband of a former Democratic presidential candidate about growing up gay in his small Midwestern town. Completely rewritten with new stories, including resources for readers, parents, and teachers.
Growing up, Chasten Glezman Buttigieg didn’t always fit in. He felt different from his father and brothers, who loved to hunt and go camping, and out of place in the rural, conservative small town where he lived. Back then, blending in was more important than feeling seen.
So, when Chasten realized he was gay, he kept that part of himself hidden away for a long, painful time. With incredible bravery, and the support of his loved ones, Chasten eventually came out—and when he did, he learned that being true to himself was the most rewarding journey of all.
Finding acceptance and self-love can seem like a tremendous challenge, but it’s never impossible. With honesty, courage, and warmth, Chasten relays his experience of growing up in America and embracing his identity, while inspiring young people across the country to do the same.
~Excerpt~
When I was in school, I didn’t like recess or gym class. Now, I’m not against the existence of gym class or recess; they were just awkward spaces for me. And it’s not because I didn’t like playing games or having fun—it’s because, in order to survive in those spaces, it helps to have friends, and I didn’t have many at the time.
Once the school bell rang, all the kids in my class would rush outside toward the action while I’d hug the entrance to the playground or the gymnasium as if whatever was beyond the double doors would swallow me up and spit out my lonely, friendless bones. Kids would quickly get into their groups, shouting one another’s names as they raced across the gym floor or field to plunge into whatever activity they had planned earlier that day. I’d stand at the edge of the sidewalk, looking out over the vast playground through my large, round glasses, wondering just where I was supposed to be. All around me, I’d see small groups of friends doing very different things: there were the kids on the basketball court laughing and joking with one another as they chased the ball up and down the court. Me? Jump for a ball? Not likely.
One time, I reluctantly joined the basketball team in fifth grade after a teacher told my parents it would be good for me. During one nightmare of a game, the coach actually put me in as our team, the Blair Bobcats, was losing a qualifying game during the All-City Boys’ Basketball Championship. In a rare move, a teammate passed me the ball, and I took off dribbling like a kid who was touching a basketball for the very first time. My parents leapt from their seats in the bleachers and shouted my name with excitement as I stumbled down the court like a newborn giraffe trying to figure out how legs work. As I hobbled toward the basket, I was halted just shy of the three-point line when a kid from the opposing team— who was a full foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than me—jumped in front of me, stopping my dribbling dead in its tracks. I fell to the floor face-first. My glasses went flying as my hands spread out like an upside-down snowman. I think the kids on both teams laughed. Worst of all, as I’d realized I was falling, I’d attempted to shoot the ball, and it couldn’t have gone any farther from the net. Basketball, I decided, was not for me.
I surveyed the playground further. The group of kids playing tag out in the field required far too much running in order to participate. Having learned nothing from the basketball incident, my parents once proposed the bright idea of me running on the track-and-field team in sixth grade. During one particularly hot and humid race, I rounded a corner and saw the multicolor flags signaling the finish line in the near distance with no other runners in sight. My head was pounding, my body was burning, and all I could do was sprint as fast as I could while focusing on the two feet below me that no longer felt connected to the rest of my body. My shoes hit the earth with such force that my legs felt like spaghetti noodles, and my vision started to go blurry. I stumbled toward the finish as I felt my chest sting and my heart pound with the exhaustion of a slightly-out-of-shape nerd trying his very best. As I crossed the finish line, I was convinced the heavens had opened and a miracle had taken place right there on the lawn of the Grand Traverse County Civic Center as I breathlessly finished in first place.
It wasn’t, however, first place, as my mom embarrassingly told me—it was last. All the other kids had finished that far ahead of me. I squinted and looked around through my fogged-up glasses to see the other runners standing with their parents and teammates enjoying their postrace orange slices and juice boxes. I huffed toward a bush and puked my guts out. Running, I decided, was also not for me.
Our playground was vast, and I knew there had to be a corner for me somewhere. I watched as the competitive group playing four square smacked and flung the ball with all their might, sending kids hurtling toward the rough pavement in an attempt to save themselves from elimination. As I said, I wore big glasses and couldn’t risk getting them bro- ken by a flying ball. Whenever I ventured into four square territory, I usually left with a bruise or a broken lens, so I tried my best to avoid it.
There was a group of kids that hosted make-believe adventures near the fence by the baseball diamond, which bordered three tall stand-alone pine trees on top of a small hill. The shaded cove served as the castle, the haunted forest, and, occasionally, the hiding place to kiss your crush, or so legend had it. I was not getting any secret kisses from admirers back then. The baseball diamond was typically the desert, the battlefield, or, on very boring days, a baseball diamond. Make-believe was where I thrived, but the success of the adventure hinged on who was playing along that day. Sometimes the basketball boys would join in, but only if it involved saving a princess because that had to end in a kiss, and it was always about the kiss. I was more interested in the poisonous, crocodile-filled waters we had to cross to get to her pine tree . . . I mean, castle. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t play ball, and I had been shamed away from using my imagination and playing pretend by a lot of mean kids who didn’t understand that being creative is actually really cool.
Title: I Have Something to Tell You—For Young Adults: A Memoir
Author: Chasten Buttigieg
ISBN-13: 9781665904377
ISBN-10: 1665904372
Release Date: May 16, 2023
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Imprint: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Ages: 12 and up; Grades 7 and up
