Looking back, I can see that my life is divided into two distinct phases: BCO (before coming out) and ACO (after coming out).
For those readers who may not know, “coming out” is the catch-phrase The Gays use to describe the decision to be honest about who we are and who we love. Coming out may conjure up images of someone marching down the street with a bullhorn, announcing his or her sexuality … but, for most of us, I think, coming out is more of a quiet process that happens slowly over time.
I began being honest with close friends as early as my college years, but I didn’t choose to “come out” and be honest with everyone until I was twenty-eight years old. For me, coming out meant:
– deciding that, when my mother asked if I were gay (and she did), I would answer honestly, no matter what the consequences
– deciding that, when other people asked “Are you married?” I would say, “Not legally.” If they pursued the matter further, I would name my partner and say how long we’d been together.
– deciding that, when I went on job interviews, I would ask, specifically, if my having a husband was a problem (because, if it was a problem for that particular employer, why on earth would I want to give my time and talents to such a place?)
– deciding that I would no longer hesitate to tell a story about my life or my travels or my experience just because telling that particular story would reveal the fact that I’m gay
– deciding I would no longer pour three-fourths of my energy into concealing facts about myself and my life
– deciding that it was time for me to leave the fundamentalist church that visited so much guilt and negativity on so many people, including gay people, despite the fact that the church was, at the time, my sole source of income.
For me, you see, coming out wasn’t a matter of springing out of a cake and screaming, “I’m here, I’m queer, get used to me!” It was a decision to accept myself. It was the moment I was able to say, “You might hate me or you might love me, but at least you’re going to hate or love the real me … and not some carefully constructed, constantly edited version of me.”
That decision didn’t go over well with some folks, including certain members of my family, who had very little to say to me for seven years.
So here I am, fourteen years later … and I’m more convinced than ever that coming out is the single most important moment in a gay or lesbian’s personal evolution.
Before I came out, I was locked up in a sort of perpetual adolescence — at twenty-eight, an adult “boy” who still had “roommates” and who still quivered in fear that something he would say or do would displease Mama and shatter his position as Her Darling Overachiever.
As a closeted gay person, since I never mentioned the people I dated or my hopes for the future, my family simply thought I didn’t date — “Poor Mark. Someday he’ll find the right girl.” When i came out, I claimed myself as a full human, complete with (gasp!) a sexual side. I was no longer the Perpetual Virgin. On the verge of thirty, I was no longer their little boy.
For gays and lesbians, I believe coming out, no matter what the price, is the moment we become adults.
Mothers and Fathers: some of you out there have gay kids. At some point, they’ll come out to you. Are you making that moment easier … or harder?
Pastors, Ministers, and Preachers: without a doubt, some of your parishioners are locked in closets. Are your sermons bolting that closet door shut … or are you helping these people reconcile their real selves with a God who loves them just as they are?
Friends and Relatives: do your gay or secretly gay friends and relatives know whether or not they can count on you, should they choose to be honest about themselves? Do they know that your love for them transcends their sexual preference?
Closeted Gay Folks: Each person must find his or her own way in the world … but isn’t a world where people love you and celebrate who you are — not who you appear to be — a world worth living in?
Add comment