We all know the hair. The "Yasss queen" energy. The high-heeled sprints through high school gymnasiums on Queer Eye. But before Jonathan Van Ness—or JVN, as we lovingly call them—became the face of self-love for millions, there was a kid in Quincy, Illinois, just trying to survive.
Honestly, the version of Jonathan Van Ness young that exists in people’s heads is usually just a "proto-JVN" with slightly shorter hair. People assume it was all glitter and backflips from day one. It wasn't. It was messy. It was scary. And in a lot of ways, it was a fight for their life.
The Quincy Reality: A Small Town and a Big Personality
Quincy, Illinois, isn’t exactly a mecca for non-binary expression. Growing up there in the 90s, Jonathan (who then went by Jack) was the sixth generation of a family-owned media dynasty. Their mother was a vice president at Quincy Media. You’d think that status would provide a shield. It didn't.
Instead, JVN was an easy target. They were "Just. So. Gay." in a way the town didn't know how to process. We’re talking about a kid who used their mom’s knockoff Hermès scarves as skirts and lived for figure skating.
The First Male Cheerleader
One of the most famous stories from this era is Jonathan becoming the first male cheerleader at Quincy Senior High School. It looks iconic in retrospect. At the time? It was a revolution born out of grit.
- The Dare: It started as a dare in eighth grade.
- The Audition: They put everything into it, waiting three agonizing days for results.
- The Impact: Making the squad was a survival tactic. It gave them a social "pass," even while they were still being called slurs in the hallways.
But the cheerleading wasn't just about high kicks. It was a physical outlet for a kid who had survived sexual abuse at age four—a trauma that was dismissed by adults at the time as "experimenting." When you look at those old photos of Jonathan in their uniform, you aren't just seeing a trailblazer; you're seeing someone trying to outrun their own pain.
The University of Arizona and the Spiral
After high school, Jonathan headed to Tucson. They had a cheerleading scholarship and a plan to major in political science. It lasted exactly one semester.
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Why? Because the freedom was too much and the internal damage was too deep. Instead of going to class, Jonathan was staying in to watch The Golden Girls and The Nanny. They ended that first semester with a 1.7 GPA.
But the real story—the one JVN laid bare in their memoir Over the Top—is much darker. They spent their monthly allowance on cocaine within weeks. To make ends meet, they turned to sex work. This wasn't a "glamorous" Hollywood struggle; it was a terrifying spiral into meth addiction and dangerous encounters. At one point, Jonathan found themselves in an active meth house facing a man with a gun.
They dropped out. They went home. They brought back a kitten and a lot of baggage.
The Pivot to Passion: From Aveda to LA
Quincy was stifling, but it was where the "Jonathan" we know started to take shape. They enrolled at the Aveda Institute in Minneapolis. This is where the magic happened.
The first time they learned to do "finger waves," they were hooked. Hair wasn't just a job; it was science. It was architecture. For the first time, Jonathan found something they were better at than anyone else.
By 2006, they moved to Scottsdale to be near their grandparents. This period is often overlooked, but it's where Jonathan learned how to care for others. They spent every Friday taking their grandmother, Noonie, to the salon for a blowout. Even as Noonie’s health declined due to dementia, those Friday hair appointments remained their "thing."
The Move to Los Angeles
In 2009, Jonathan headed to LA. They weren't a star yet. Far from it. They were an apprentice at the Sally Hershberger salon, working under industry legends like Oribe and Vidal Sassoon.
"Every day that I've ever been outside of my hometown, I've woken up happy that I've escaped." — Jonathan Van Ness
Then came 2012. The year that changed everything.
The Diagnosis and the "Gay of Thrones" Birth
At 25, Jonathan fainted while doing highlights for a client. They went to a Planned Parenthood clinic for tests. The result: HIV-positive.
For many, that would have been the end of the road. For Jonathan, it was a wake-up call. They got clean. They doubled down on their career. And then, a client named Erin Gibson—a writer for Funny or Die—noticed something.
Jonathan’s recaps of Game of Thrones while doing her hair were more entertaining than the actual show. Thus, Gay of Thrones was born. It wasn't planned. It was an "accidental" entry into acting and comedy that eventually led to two Emmy nominations.
Why the "Young" Years Matter Today
When we look at Jonathan Van Ness young, we see the blueprint for their current activism. They didn't just "wake up" this confident. They survived a small town that didn't want them, an addiction that almost killed them, and a diagnosis that many still treat as a death sentence.
If you’re looking to apply the "JVN approach" to your own life, here are the actionable takeaways from their early years:
- Chase the "Joy" Science: Don't just do what you like; do what you're obsessively curious about. For JVN, it was the chemistry of hair color and the physics of a backflip.
- Turn Trauma into Humor: Jonathan didn't ignore the bullying; they used humor as a shield until they were strong enough to use it as a bridge.
- The "Safety Net" Principle: JVN always says they had hair to fall back on. Having a hard skill—something you can do with your hands—provides the psychological safety to take big risks in entertainment or business.
- Radical Honesty: The reason JVN is a household name isn't just because they’re funny; it’s because they told the truth about their HIV status and their past when they didn't have to.
Jonathan’s story proves that you are never "too broken" to have a gorgeous recovery. The kid from Quincy who felt they had to hide their mom's scarves is now the person showing the rest of us how to wear our own crowns.
To truly understand the JVN of 2026, you have to respect the Jack of 1995. One couldn't exist without the other.