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 SAVONN CHAMPELLE is more than his turbulent personal history…or how he overcame it.
This story isn’t just about grinding poverty and desperation.
Yes, Savonn Champelle was born in the South Bronx, raised by his grandmother along with five other kids. The cops showed up often; his memories are of adults screaming, cursing, breaking glass. His mother, aunt and uncle were all incarcerated at various times. He still remembers stepping over the colorful tops of crack vials sprinkled like Skittles on his walk to school.
“That was my life growing up,” he says. “And when you grow up in that environment, to you, that’s normal.” The family’s move to West Virginia when Savonn was 14 left him vulnerable in a different way: He was the only black kid in most of his classes, a fact some of the other kids never hesitated to point out with language as colorful and poisonous as those crack vials.
“That was the first time I’d ever been called the N-word,” he remembers.
He escaped into school (sports, the student council, the pep club), church (every Sunday morning and night) and music (Mary J. Blige and Patti LaBelle, his mom’s favorite).
It isn’t hard to see the appeal of Mary J. Blige—a raw, live-wire talent who struggled up from the streets, her addictions and demons never far away—or her remarkable voice to a lonely young outcast locked in his room, headphones on, eyes closed—its bruised-by-life weariness, the depths of pain creeping in, the moments of transcendent beauty, the thrilling possibilities of escape for even the most hopeless.
This story isn’t just about H.I.V.
Savonn’s grandmother stretched her welfare checks to provide for six kids while her own three children battled their own addictions in and out of jail. For her health, Savonn’s mother moved to West Virginia to live with them—she was HIV-positive.
“I found that out in eighth grade,” Savonn says. “Then we found out my aunt and uncle were, too. It’s hard to explain, but a part of you becomes numb.”
School continued to be his escape—a distraction from all the very frightening and very adult concerns his family faced—and, poignantly, a source of hope as he took pages of notes on HIV in health class.
“Right before my 15th birthday, I was telling my mom that all I wanted was for her and I to hang out,” he says. “I loved the ground she walked on, and in my eyes she could never do any wrong.”
Within a year, his mother, aunt and uncle all died of AIDS-related complications.
This story isn’t just about how hard it is to stay in school.
Savonn’s grandmother moved her surviving family members to Columbus, Ohio, for what they hoped would be a fresh start.
“We ended up living across the street from some halfway houses and next door to some drug dealers. Still, I got up every day and went to school. My cousins didn’t,” he says. “ Other members of my family just went their own way. I made a promise to myself, though, that I would never live the way I did growing up.”
Always his salvation, school started to become a pricklier, more dangerous place for Savonn to navigate.
“There was always a jock or some hypermasculine idiot who would call me gay or fag,” he says. “I see kids now that come out in junior high or high school, and I applaud them. I didn’t have the courage to do it back then.”
Although he knew he wanted to go to college, Savonn knew he couldn’t afford it and had no idea how to begin applying for financial aid. He worried about his future after high school until he met an Air Force recruiter who offered him a way out—with his grandmother’s permission, since he was 17.
“She didn’t want me to go, but I knew if I didn’t do something I was going to end up like everybody else in my family,” he says. “At that point, some of my cousins had dropped out of school. The cops were always at our house. Aside from my grandmother, there was no one around to guide me. The military was my way out of my situation and neighborhood.”
With misgivings, his grandmother signed the papers, and Savonn’s life after graduation took shape.
This story isn’t just about coming out.
Although he was scared—he’d never been away from home before—he reported for basic training. When he was assigned to his first Air Force base (in Arkansas), he became a medic and enjoyed his new responsibilities: taking vital signs, assisting with minor surgeries and giving hearing and vision exams.
Even more so, he enjoyed having a new world opened to him. At 19, Savonn made a fake ID and summoned the courage to call up a gay club to ask for directions. When he showed up—painfully early—the club was deserted, so he threw back a couple fuzzy navels for courage and went to the bathroom to collect himself. When he came out, the club was packed, and he was so scared he left immediately.
He went back the next night and ended up meeting the guy who would become his first boyfriend. After the initial euphoria faded, he had bigger issues to face.
“I grew up in the church, and I have a very close relationship with God. I was like, ‘How am I supposed to be who I am if it means I’ll go to hell?’ I was like, ‘God, I need to know what I’m supposed to do,’” he remembers. “Then a peaceful feeling came over me and I knew that God had made me this way. In the Bible it says God knew you before you were in your mother’s womb, and I was like, ‘I’m supposed to be this way.’ I held on to that and came out to myself.”
He came out to his grandmother that Thanksgiving, sitting in the car in the parking lot of a grocery store.
“I remember it like it was yesterday—I was trying to get the words out, but I couldn’t,” he says. “Finally, I forced myself to say it: ‘I’m gay!’ She said that she loved me and was proud of me and we hugged. Then we went into the grocery store, and I came out to the rest of my family after dinner.”
Their reaction? “Okay. Can you turn the TV back on?”
This story isn’t just about being gay in the military.
Savonn was sent to an Air Force base in Korea, which was hell for the six months as he struggled with being alone and—again—in the closet. That is, until his eyes were opened to the reality of the situation.
“There were so many gay men and women in the military, you would not believe it,” he says. “I met a lot of gay people from all over the world, all different branches of the military—I’d never had that experience since then, but being there, I felt like I had my own family. We all partied together, we all did things together, we all worked together. We left rank and all that stuff at the door—it was like a secret society.”
The good times came to an end on a sad note. Savonn decided not to re-enlist after a friend of his—a gay woman—was harassed and kicked out because she refused to hide her sexuality, a sad reminder of how intolerant the armed forces really could be.
This story isn’t just about racism or simply starting over.
Out of the Air Force, Savonn finally made it to college, finishing up his bachelor’s degree in Irvine, California (complete with BMWs and Benzes in the school parking lot next to his Honda Accord).
The next step was a strange one: He’d been working at a Newport Beach bank (where the multimillionaire clients complained about $15 service fees) when he decided to quit and move north into L.A. proper. Shortly after he left, the branch was robbed. In his U-Haul, a shocked and near-fainting Savonn was arrested and taken into custody.
“I said, ‘Ask anyone I worked with,’” he says. “I told them I’d been to college and that I wouldn’t rob a bank.” More shocking than the arrest itself was the cop’s response. “He said that they’d shown a picture of the suspect to my co-workers, and they said it looked just like me,” he says, his voice a bit hollow. “I started crying and asked to see the photo. It was a guy wearing a ski mask and a cap. The only thing you can see is the bridge of his nose and his eyes. I was like, ‘How is this supposed to look like me? Just because we both have dark skin?’”
After they did some more research, the police released Savonn and cleared him of all charges, but the experience shook him deeply. He decided to make a huge life change by pursuing a career as a model/singer.
“I was doing all the things you’re supposed to do to make it—I went to all the open calls at every agency, I took acting classes, I crashed parties and auditions, I recorded a demo, I snuck into radio stations and music labels,” he says. “Until I ran out of money.” His entertainment career came to a crucial point when he was sent on an audition for the Macy’s Passport fashion show. Savonn found himself competing against Ford and Wilhelmina models, against J.P. Calderon.
When the judges asked for everyone’s book, the other models had huge glossy portfolios. Savonn had a color copy of a photo. “When I heard I booked it, I was like…” he says, trailing off. “I can’t explain how it feels when you really want something so bad, and when you get it and are in that moment.”
This story isn’t just about romance and rediscovery.
Today, Savonn lives in San Francisco with his boyfriend, Joseph. His success as a model was sweet, but the thrill of falling in love—real, adult, reciprocal love—was even greater.
“Part of me didn’t want to fall in love because I had been hurt,” he says. “But all Joseph wanted to do was love me and make me happy and make me smile. I remember waking up in his apartment and it felt like I was supposed to be there. It wasn’t like I was infatuated—I’m 30—but there was something that made me feel like I could breathe again and redefine my life.”
He takes a deep breath, choosing his hard-won words very carefully.
“The beautiful thing about life is you can always have another dream,” he says. “You can always start over.
“I used to wonder why I had such a shitty life—being exposed to drug addicts from a young age, my mother dying of AIDS. Why did all these things happen to me? Why, why, why? But the more I meditated about it, I realized we all have a purpose,” he says. “The reason that I went through it all is that I’m supposed to do something big with my life, to inspire and help people. When I realized that, something inside of me came to life.
“No matter where you come from, your race, your sexuality—it does not matter. You can succeed. You can make it. I’m living proof.”
Savonn smiles. The cadence of his words—so flowing and poised—grows slower, smoother, softer as he reflects on the full impact of all that he’s told me today, weighing it against who he is now and who he will become. He is not a man who’s been handed opportunities—he is used to fighting for every chance, and he intends to make the most of them all.
“I remember the day I submitted my photos to you guys. I never thought it would ever happen,” he says quietly. “Thank you all so much. I’m so grateful. I don’t know what’s ahead for me—maybe I’ll never get back into modeling or singing or acting. But if I don’t, it’s okay. I’m here.”
This story is about Savonn Champelle.
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Instinct Online 
written by Doug G on June 02, 2008
What a looker! And a black guy to boot? Thanks fro represrnting! Nice work, Instinct.
written by carly on June 04, 2008
Are there any more pictures online? Savonne is one handsome devil. I may even want to read his story
written by Corey M. on June 06, 2008
Thank you for placing a man of color on the cover of Instinct. I think we are so under represented in the gay community. Thank you, and what a great story!
written by gary gerrison on June 09, 2008
I just read his story in your latest mag and he is one hot stud with a heart. I hope you keep showing us guys with bodies and heart.
written by Chan on June 26, 2008
I keep finding you Savonne! It's your cousin Chan Champell in NY! You look amazing!!!!!
xoxoxo
written by John from Baltimore on June 28, 2008
Great comment, Gary Gerrison. Wishing you Savonn all the best in all you do.