COMING OUT STORIES
I’m Coming Out Again and Again
‘Coming Out’ is only the beginning of a lifelong process
People think that as soon as someone comes out as LGBTQ+ their life suddenly becomes an open book. But that’s not the case.
Coming out is a process, a lifetime of sharing the essence of who you really are. Most people automatically assume I am straight. So every time I meet someone new, start a new job, join an organization, or reconnect with old friends and family, I have to lay my cards on the table and be prepared for any and all reactions. It’s like a lifetime confessional.
When I first came out, times were certainly different than they are today.
It was the summer of 1980 and I was nineteen years old and living in a small conservative city in the middle of a large farming community. It’s a place where it is still not easy for someone to be open about being queer.
My relationship with my girlfriend had recently ended. I can tell you the exact moment that the lightbulb came on and it all became clear. Judy was a very sexual person but I always came up with excuses to avoid sex. One morning after another failed attempt, I went into the bathroom and sat on the floor of the shower crying my eyes out. I punched my body over and over while whispering, “This can’t be happening. I can’t be gay. Why can’t I get over this?” My deep dark secret was emerging and I had to admit that this was something I couldn’t ignore any longer. Judy and I split up a few days later.
Within a few weeks, I moved a thousand miles away for a better job. After settling in and adjusting to my new workload and a new apartment, I finally took the time to think about who I really was. This kind of self-analysis was not easy. Everything I had seen or heard my entire life about homosexuality was negative. Gay was not part of our lexicon in the early eighties and LGBTQ was unheard of.
This was pre-AIDS and before any high-profile public figures had come out or were forced out of the closet. There were rumors and speculation about a few Hollywood celebrities but I had not heard about anyone who came out and proudly said “I’m gay.” Gay young men didn’t have many (any) role models to look up to.
I finally got up the nerve and called a counseling center in another city. The first words out of my mouth were, “I think I might be bisexual.” The counselor couldn’t have been more understanding. He asked me why I thought that and then led me along in a conversation to explore my feelings, my emotions, and my sexuality while shooting down my ignorant stereotypes.
I told him I couldn’t be gay based on the prejudices that had been drilled into me throughout my entire life. But after more than an hour of his patient explanations, I ended the conversation by announcing “I am gay.” But of course, that was only the beginning.
Exploring My Sexuality
I was never promiscuous, even before HIV/AIDS. I never had a desire to sleep with different guys; I just wanted to find someone special and share my life. I wanted a relationship like I had with women, only one where I felt more comfortable with the intimacy.
After a few months, I stumbled on an ad for a gay support group and quickly called the number. I spoke with a woman who ran the organization with her girlfriend and another man, who she introduced me to.
We all hit it off immediately and Tarie and I quickly began a relationship that would last for a couple of years. He helped me understand that despite my upbringing, there was nothing wrong with being gay and that it was society that needed to change.
Tarie was a political activist and always challenged me when I would try to justify an anti-gay position. It wasn’t easy because I was now living a double life that I wasn’t ready to share with my co-workers and even worse I wasn’t able to share my life with my family and my close friends.
Several months after that first call to a counselor, when I felt I couldn’t stand the lies any longer, I invited my best friend to come for a visit. She knew there was something weighing on my mind but didn’t force the issue. That first night as we lay awake in bed talking I decided it was time to come clean.
I told her there was something I needed to tell her but I didn’t know how to do it. I hummed and hawed for several minutes and finally, I said “I’m gay”. Her response was, “Is that all? I thought you were dying of cancer or something.” Obviously my fears clouded my perspective and I couldn’t cover that up.
We spent the weekend talking a lot about it. I knew that she had a gay uncle and her mom had many gay friends. She reassured me this wouldn’t affect our relationship, she loved me just the same. Her support encouraged me to tell a few more friends and most were supportive.
When my ex-girlfriend told me she was coming for a visit I started to get worried. When she arrived it was obvious she had hoped to resume our relationship, hoping I had gotten over whatever it was that made me avoid intimacy with her.
I told her within a couple of hours of her arrival that I was gay and she didn’t take it very well. There were tears. She felt humiliated believing I’d lied to her when we dated. It took some explaining but eventually, she understood. I wasn’t lying to her; I was lying to myself.
By the time she left a few days later, we’d put it behind us and had a great time together. When I took her to the airport we vowed to stay in touch, but unfortunately, that was the last I ever heard from her. Obviously, she wasn’t as good with my news as she let on.
Coming out to my family
The next challenge of course was telling my family. I had no idea how to do that. I had been reading a lot and the consensus seemed to be that I had better be prepared for rejection. I was told to expect the worst, that my family and friends might turn their backs on me. It was only when I was prepared (how can you prepare for something like that) could I broach the subject. I couldn’t believe my family would reject me. We had always been close and supportive of each other and my secrecy was actually what was putting the distance between us.
Just before Christmas, I went home to visit family and my sister invited me over to her place to help make pickles. It was her first attempt at it so she was very focused on the tasks at hand and as we stood at the counter chopping vegetables I blurted out that I was gay. I can’t remember the exact words but it was probably just that.
She paused for a moment and then continued chopping. I gave her a few minutes for the news to sink in and then we started talking. She asked me how I knew that I was gay and if I was sure that it wasn’t just a phase I was going through. She told me she was worried about my future because she believed that drugs and sexually transmitted diseases were part of the gay club culture (this was even before AIDS had surfaced). All things you would expect a big sister to worry about. But they were stereotypes about an entire community of people.
I reassured her that I was still the same person. We ended the conversation with her pleading with me to not tell my other sister or more importantly my parents. I said I couldn’t make any promises but would delay any big announcements. I also needed a bit of time before the next step.
A few weeks later my oldest sister called to say how upset she was that she had to find out through my other sister that I was gay. She was upset not because I was gay but because I didn’t tell her myself. She said she had a few gay friends in the past and it was not a big deal to her. I certainly read her wrong. I always thought she was the conservative one and yet she emerged as the most supportive out of anyone in my family. Still, she agreed with my other sister that I should not tell my parents. And so I relented… for the time being.
Every time I would speak to my parents I had to be careful about what I said about my life. We were always close. I went to them for advice and they always gave me the love and support I needed to become someone they were proud of. I felt I owed them honesty about who I was, and finally got up the nerve to tell them.
It was after Easter dinner and it was almost time for me to begin the one-and-a-half-hour drive home when I decided I couldn’t postpone it any longer. They were watching television in the den and I went in and sat with them. I hummed and hawed and I could tell that they knew that something was on my mind. Finally, I just blurted out the words that had been inside me for so long.
I’m gay!
They were shocked and truth be told, I was a little surprised that they hadn’t figured it out yet. I guess it wasn’t something parents (at least back then) considered about their children. My father was understanding and supportive, but my mother was horrified.
After about an hour of talking and tears, I left to make the drive back home. Part of me was relieved that it was finally out in the open but I was still worried about their reaction. I knew that our relationship would never be the same again.
Over the next few weeks, I spoke to my parents several times on the phone. I learned that my mom spent the first week crying nonstop, wondering what she had “done wrong.” I think more than anything she worried about what her friends or other family members would say.
Over time she came to accept the fact that I was gay and it wasn’t a passing phase. My whole family welcomed my partners home for dinner, holidays, and other family gatherings.
As I became more confident in who I was, they gradually became more comfortable with my life, realizing it wasn’t a choice but was the essence of who I was and who I still am today.
The politics of being gay
Ironically my conservative father was the one person who solidified the political arguments that I would find myself in over the next several years. He was heavily involved in politics, conservative politics. We would spend hours around the dinner table debating LGBTQ rights, among a wide range of social issues. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was helping him formulate his arguments when it came to LGBTQ issues within the political party he was involved with. He wasn’t very successful in convincing most other members of the party that gay was okay, but I knew he was on my side.
During my final visit with my father, before he died, he took me aside and told me how proud he was of me, for the man I had become.
I know I am one of the lucky ones because I had the love and support of my family to help me along the way. It wasn’t without its hurdles but it has helped me be proud of who I am. Proud that I am a gay man.
Thank you for reading.