There exists a particular moment in every queer person’s life when the lively essence that remains deep inside us seeks its manifestation. This passionate fire remains entrapped within our rigid exterior for years or even decades. In the same way a flame melts wax, to come out is to burn that strict mold and live as our true shapeless selves.
It’s getting warm
In honor of National Coming Out Day, I would like to recognize the courage of my 14-year-old self by narrating my own experience. For many years that incessant flame burned inside me before I could even notice its warmth. Since childhood, I felt the initial small sparks lighting up every time I saw Flame Princess in Adventure Time or Gwen from Total Drama Island on my TV. In those moments my appreciation for certain female characters maintained a level of devotion incomparable to any male ones. However, I never questioned this imbalance until much later.
Oh, can you keep your voices down?
After years of ignoring these feelings, high school brought many realizations. Various of my friends started proudly using the bisexual label or other ones. Likewise, I had already accepted the persistent flame that grew stronger as time passed. As I felt the warmth of others, parts of my cold exterior started to melt. Within the walls of my Catholic school, my friends and I were able to create a temporary space where that firm surface seemed to disappear. It was an escape from the inevitable reality that awaited us outside. Once I left my friends, the vibrant flame went back to a fading spark. The cold breeze of harsh reality returned to suffocate me.
Are we going home?
Oftentimes I felt as though I were living a double life. After school, the absence of heat inside caused the wax to solidify again. My family only saw the hardened surface of what remained deep inside. Many times, I imagined all the possible outcomes of destroying this stable structure, but it was too much to bear. I thought I could keep living this dual existence, but I always preferred the brief taste of freedom over my reality. I decided later that, whenever I came out, the sole family member who would observe the unraveling of my rigid mold was my mother. She’s the most important figure in my life. Whatever she thought would dictate the fate of my debilitated flame.
Are we going home, with everyone beside you?
The day I came out wasn’t planned at all. I remember going to the movies with my friends, everyone’s flames intertwined and filled with life. After we got ice cream, my mom came to pick me up. She told me we had to make a quick stop before going home. The ride was going to be long, just me and her. Prior to this moment, anytime I was alone with my mom I felt the urge to blurt it out. I thought this time was one of those spontaneous itches and tried to brush it off. Nonetheless, this night provided specific conditions, ones I didn’t know would repeat ever again: a lengthy car ride alone with my mom and a surprising amount of adrenaline. The mere thought of coming out to her caused a rapid rise of flames throughout my whole body.
I’m tryna push record
I imagined all the diverse ways of wording the destruction of a well-kept illusion. My anxiety started to break down any confidence I had built. Luckily, in moments of tension, music has given me the power to block out any unwanted thoughts. The majority of my life has been accompanied by music playing at all times. For this reason, I resorted to a band I had recently discovered called The Marías. Their sound was calming, rich in synths and dreamy vocals belonging to the frontwoman María Zardoya. My teenage mind craved an escape from living in the midst of constant unveiling and concealment. Thus, the oneiric world curated by The Marías throughout their discography gave me what I needed most. One song in particular stood out to me from their second EP Superclean, Vol. II called “ABQ”. During the long car ride, I played this song over and over. It served as a sort of waiting room where I could rehearse all the potential outcomes of my revelation.
There goes my life, on the open road
The song’s structure is not that of a typical song. It comes in waves of intensity where you barely hear the lyrics. This atmosphere of reverie numbed all the chaos going on in my body. I listened to this song alone for almost the whole ride. We were already getting close to home — time was running out. I had to make up my mind. What words could I say to start something that can never be undone? I’ll always vividly remember the first shy words that left my mouth. They were spoken in such an ordinary way that you would never think my heart was about to burst.
I broke the sharp silence and told my mom I had a question. In a hypothetical situation, what would she do if I liked someone and that person turned out to be a girl. Before I clarified the gender of that supposed crush, there was a hesitation on my part. It was actually happening. The flames soared as I started talking. They strived to not leave a single trace of the force that hid them for so long. As I added the last words of the question, I felt a weight being lifted. It was finally out of me. The flames engulfed every inch of that artificial exterior.
I can understand you
My mom’s reaction was very accepting, which I am eternally grateful for. In the years that followed, she started to grow accustomed to this new being. No hardened surface kept me hidden anymore. I could exist as the flame that endured inside for so many years. However, none of this would have happened without the consolation “ABQ” gave me. This song offered a place between my dual existence where I didn’t feel so fragmented. When I started writing this piece, I never considered the lyrics and how much they reflected my situation. The lyrics here guide my words in the same way they did during that significant car ride. Therefore, in this piece for National Coming Out Day, I wanted to emphasize the crucial role this song played in my personal revelation.