Coming Out

I don’t see the point to tip toeing around this, so here it goes. I’m...in love with fries. No really, I am. But for real, I really want to tell you that... I’m really passionate about art. And music. And dogs.

 

What I’m really trying to say is that there is so much more to me than my sexuality.

 

But then why am I writing a whole article on my sexuality, you ask? I’m writing about this wildly personal thing because it’s an important part of me and so many people. So to celebrate Coming Out Day, October 11th, I thought I would share my story with you.

 

Currently, I don’t try to hide my sexuality from anyone. But for years and years, I hid this part of who I am from the most important people in my lifemy parents and my brother. My parents are both very religious and for awhile, I had convinced myself that if they knew, they would kick me out of the house. Pretty scary, right?

 

So why did I come out to them? I don’t really know. I had made this plan to not tell them at all, marry a girl with a gender-neutral name, have them show up at the wedding, and be like surprise! I like girls! But at some point, I realized that plan, while hilarious to me, was too cliche to be my coming out moment. Plus, to be serious, I couldn’t hold it in much longer.

 

During the summer going into my senior year of high school, I suddenly felt the courage that I had been waiting for. Before I decided it was a bad idea, I barged into my younger brother’s room and blurted out that I had something to tell him. He was caught off guard, and to be honest, so was I. I had no clue what I was doing and why I was doing it. After a lot of beating around the bush and awkward jokes, he finally ended my rambling and asked straight up if I was a lesbian. Taken aback, I whispered no in reply, quickly adding, I’m bisexual.” He told me he had a feeling it was something like that. I then sheepishly added the fact that Mom and Dad didn’t know yet, and I watched panic set in on his face. He frantically told me he couldn’t keep this secret for long. Knowing I should be the one to tell them, I called a family meeting.

 

I had never called a “family meeting” before so my parents were pretty freaked out.

I mean, who calls family meetings like in the movies?

 

When I finally got both my parents on the couch in front of me, I told them straight up…or at least that’s what I wish I had done. I actually rambled for almost fifteen minutes which made my mom restless and confused about why I sat them down. Finally, I started to say the phrase that had been on the tip of my tongue for years, but felt myself halt.

 

I couldn’t do it.

 

I couldn’t say those words to my parents: the ones who criticized me about being in GSA (Gay Straight Alliance) and the ones who warned me about the “gay agenda” more times than I could count. I couldn’t tell my dad that I liked girls because I knew he’d hate me. I couldn’t stop replaying when he had told me that queer people are awful and lived sinful lifestyles. I couldn’t tell my mom because I remember how upset she was when I was royalty for GSA, because then I’d be “the face of the gays.” I couldn’t tell her I was one.

 

So I made my brother do it for me. Even though the whole reason for this meeting was for ME to tell them.

 

Classy, right?

What happened next was a blur that I like to push back and pretend never happened.

My mom rolled her eyes. My dad sat there in stone cold silence. This sent me over the edge into hysterical tears. I don’t exactly remember what words were exchanged, but I knew it wasn’t exactly pleasant. Overwhelmed, I ran away. Literally. I bolted out the door with tears streaming down my face. My brother quickly chased after me, followed by my mom and even my dog.

 

But my dad didn’t move.

I think about that a lot.

 

Today it’s a lot better. My mom has tried her absolute best to show me her support daily by complimenting my rainbow shirts and telling me that I didn’t have to hide my gay pride posters anymore. I’d like to say my dad has done the same, but he just tends to ignore that side of me.

 

However, I don’t want pity; I just wanted to tell a raw story of a time in my life that shaped who I am currently.

 

If you are LGBT and are struggling right now, know you are not alone. If you need someone to talk to, the Trevor Project has a helpful lifeline I have called many times: (877) 798-5882.

 

Happy Coming Out Day, and thank you for reading my story.

 

P.S. the cover picture is of me as a child (the blonde in the pink coat), and I just find it funny it took me so long to figure out I was queer when I was pulling that sh*t. Just look at my hand on her cheek.