His mother stopped paying tuition at a local Catholic, all-boys school, and he says he was asked by the administration to leave his junior year. He describes his family as dysfunctional and violent. He bounced from one house to another until he ended up in a Youth in Need shelter.

“My whole life got turned upside down,” Jenson said. “I was in crisis mode.”

So, excuse him, if his message sounds more raw than “It gets better,” the theme of a national video campaign aimed at youth being bullied at school because of their sexual orientation.

With the national conversation heavily focused on the changing tide of public opinion toward gay marriage and the growing number of states legalizing marriage equality, it may seem as though gays have nearly won the most difficult battles in the culture wars. But the situation for a large percentage of gay youth can still be perilous.

Jenson, now 29, was recently hired as the first full-time advocate for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer Youth by Safe Connections, a St. Louis-based nonprofit offering services to victims of domestic and sexual violence.

“What do you do when you are a young person and your family, school, community and religious institutions aren’t safe?” he asked. “A lot of people can’t grin and bear it.”

Jenson, who hasn’t spoken to his family in a dozen years and no longer shares their surname, says he remembers speaking to a gay youth group about his experience of living in a shelter.

“How many of you have been kicked out for being gay?” the youth group adviser of Growing American Youth asked the audience after Jenson shared his story.

More than half of the young people raised their hands, he said. Jenson was lucky enough to meet some advocates whom he credits with saving his life. He got himself enrolled at Soldan High School in the city, repeated his junior year and graduated just a year behind. He received a scholarship to attend DePaul University, after which he started a nonprofit and media company aimed at tackling gender issues. He also became an organizer and activist in the LGBT community, especially concerned about those on the margins of a marginalized group.

In fact, the title of the documentary series he created uses a slur for homosexuals precisely to make a point about how labels shape identity. He has written openly for the Huffington Post about the last time his father beat him.

“He pulled in to a rural gas station outside Rolla, Mo., and took me into the men’s restroom to beat me more. He hit me across the face, punched me in the stomach and yelled profanities at me. ... I zoned out, and like many times before, I lost myself in a world of comic-book superheroes, good memories and hope that someday I wouldn’t have to deal with my father anymore.”

He writes that his father often had spastic attacks of rage when he was drunk and angry. “Now he was sucking in large amounts of air and shaking his right hand while driving with his left, his face contorting with fury. He pulled over to the side of the road to continue hitting me. He punched my eye, then backhanded me again and fractured my nose.”

Jenson escaped that day he was brutalized by his father. He cut off his entire family.

But his story is about surviving despite it all.

The fact that he’s been hired in a city in the middle of America to reach out to schools in the heartland about gay youth at risk is a measure of progress. The fact that Safe Connections received more than 200 applications for the job is a sign of progress.

He plans to teach schools how they can become safer places for LGBT youth. He will reach out within the community to talk about where youth can get help and healing. And, he wants to find ways to help young LGBT people feel empowered — despite dark moments of feeling alone, harassed and hopeless.

“When you are someone who is marginalized, you have this amazing resilience come from you.”

Some stories are testament to resilience.

Welcome back home, Randall.