Will you love the “you” you hide if I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?from Will You Come & Follow Me (hymn)
Three and a half years ago I confessed before friends and family a secret that had been eating away at me since early boyhood. There followed perhaps the biggest sense of relief I have ever felt. The shame, anxiety and sheer terror that kept me bound for years was gone in a moment when I found the courage – after much umming and ahhing – to say the words “Mom, I’m gay.”
And then it didn’t seem to matter who knew. I didn’t care if the pastor who told me I was going through a “phase” knew. I didn’t care if the friends who prayed, studied and lived with me at Bible college knew. I didn’t care if the people I passed every day in the street knew. I just loved the feeling of not caring what people thought of me. I loved not living in constant fear of exposure. I loved being honest and just being me.
Today is National Coming Out Day. Congratulations to those who have found somewhere deep within themselves the will and strength to be who they are without shame. To those of you still scared and defeated: Come out. You will not regret the decision to stop hiding.
I wish it were that easy for me after I told my family. Unfortunately I’m still working on being completely comfortable with it. 7 years as an exgay really has affected me…
It does leave its mark, doesn’t it? Glad you are doing better 😉
I was quite frightened about telling my parents (I did so approx 13 years ago). Things in life were pretty good until I hit puberty and realized that I was gay. I knew that, if others knew, they would hate or be disgusted by me (this was the 70s and a small, conservative town). I knew this, because such sentiments were actually verbalized regularly, so friendships with guys — and life in general — took on an unusual strain.
Even though I was not attracted to every guy I knew, puberty is an awkward time at best and it was hard to differentiate. There was no one to share the usual teenage stuff, i.e. who is cute, how you feel, actual dating, so the answer for me was finally to shut down emotionally — a conscious effort to deny all feelings. And every word, every reaction to a situation, joke, comment, had to be pre-processed to come out “correctly.”
My parents became concerned at that point in my life but I didn’t give them much room to come in. Again, there is enough normal conflict between child and parents at that age, this simply overloaded the situation. After I left home, we were somewhat frozen in time, and I didn’t talk much with them. I was cordial, but we didn’t really interact like we had.
When I finally wrote the letter, their reaction was incredible. They were completely supportive and said that “it all finally made sense.” They were actually relieved! They said the change they saw in me after that was amazing, and that I finally seemed like the person they knew before. I had my own issues to deal with after that, much of which I can directly attribute to my survival mechanism of shutting down, but I’m glad I did that as it probably saved my life at the time. I’m so very glad that, for the most part, young people have better, healthier alternatives now.
The answer is not always to come out right now. It takes careful consideration and should not be taken lightly if one is not fully in control of ones own life (ie. living at home, financial assistance for college, etc). Every situation is unique, but for me at least, the concerns were unfounded and those who really mattered to me the most understood fully.
As I state at a certain web site, I prefer to call NCOD “Sexual Honesty Day.”
“Coming out” has what I perceive to be a bit of baggage attached to it, and while it may convey the personal importance of emergence from a closet, it misses the ethical importance of self-disclosure.
“it all finally made sense.”
Simply and beautifully said. Jesus tells us in Matthew 7:
9 “Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! 12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.
What artisan would produce a work he would detest, rather than put his heart and soul into producing the best work his talents would allow?
So too, God created life in different sexual variations, all equally pleasing to him as part of his magnificent whole.
We show our appreciation of God’s love for us by loving ourselves as we are, the way he made us, and by loving others as well, no exceptions allowed.
I “came out” to my parents approximately a year ago this November. I not only came out as gay, but also in a way came out as conservative to my liberal parents by saying that I was adopting a traditional view of the Bible’s sexual ethic and was planning on remaining celibate.
It was difficult at first, mainly because my parents were having a hard time coming to terms with these two concepts that they had not been expecting. It’s comforting to know that — even if I wasn’t celibate — they would accept me fully. In fact, if I wasn’t celibate they would probably be more at ease, since they ask about my happiness and contentment quite often (and I appreciate that more than words can express!)
I actually see my family’s acceptance (though not agreement) with me to be the model that more conservative Christians should take with their gay sons and daughters. It’s fine to show concern and express disagreement, but always make sure that your child knows you love them no matter what. That’s the biggest lesson I learned from my “coming out” day.
Happy Sexual Honesty Day (I support Mike’s definition as well – my reason is that it sounds way more inclusive to me for all sexual minorities).
I came out when I was 15. I was a sophomore in high school and it was during the competition band season in the fall. Talk about the sexual undercurrent (er, over current even) that flows through there. But also, a tremendous amount of love and fellowship flowed through it, and that contributed greatly to identity and self-awareness. It was two years after the Matt Shepard murder and our GSA was not even a year old and was having a profound effect on the attitude of the high school. It almost seemed as though EVERYone was coming out! Mostly people identified as bisexual, or as “potentially” bisexual – I took the bi identification too, b/c I still wasn’t “completely sure” that I only liked girls. I think a part of me is bi to this day but mostly I’m all “lesbian.” 8) Anyway, it made it totally comfortable for me to come out to my parents, my friends, my teachers… nobody cared at all.
In retrospect, I had the easiest coming out experience of anybody. Honestly, my parents were so concerned about my dealing with the mental health issues that dapple our gene pool that my sexual identity was the least of their concerns – but really, this would have been the least of their concerns anyway. I told my mom “I like girls” as I sat across from her at the dinner table, she didn’t blink an eye while she drank her tea. “okay, Em,” was her response, but not in a disbelieving or uncaring way – it was purely nonchalant. Sometimes I would be asked “how do I know,” but this was out of personal curiosity. I told my dad and stepmom, and basically gave all four of my parents permission to tell whomever. I didn’t care. Dad responded by saying that he experienced some small amount of bisexuality as a kid growing up, but after hitting puberty realized he was straight. Today he’s a guy totally comfortable around gays, because he’s not uptight about his own sexuality, and the gay guys love him for that ease.
My parents were absolutely supportive. My mom was never anything but sympathetic to my romantic troubles. Dad stressed safety, and to not let anybody think they could “change” me. When I was looking for apartments in the city last spring, he suggested I look for a place in Philly’s gayborhood. “sorry Dad, I don’t have $1500 a month to blow on a closet,” was my response. [<— Irony…] He’s always thrilled whenever I go out “with my people,” and wants to hear all about when I go to gay events. He knows I get socially reclusive sometimes, and as a parent he wants me to be happy. He says it’s important for me to build communities – now that my close art friends have *slightly* dispersed after college – so he tells me to spend time with the Jews and the Gays. I do one better and spend time with the Jewish Gays. 8)
The weirdest thing about my coming out experience was that when i was about 18 years old, I came home to the news that a family member from my parents’ generation had just come out, 3 years after I did. And my sister, who was told this news by our Aunt, replied by saying that I too, was gay. My aunt replied, “really??” She didn’t know.
So 3 years after the fact some relatives still didn’t know. But nobody ever objected.
It was thrilling as a teen to be honest about liking girls! I never felt so myself as when I was able to admit this fact. I was still extremely shy romantically and it took a while for me to be able to tell anyone I was interested in them. But being able to point to a girl on TV and say “yeah, she’s hot,” as simple as it sounds, was a great freedom. I thank my family and wonderful circumstances of the time. Today my high school’s gay-straight alliance thrives, nearly ten years after the fact. My younger (straight) brother was a member.
Tomorrow I’ll be attending OUTfest in Philly’s gayborhood in celebration of being gay. 😀
But, to paraphrase my best friend, “everywhere YOU walk is the gayborhood!” (he’s only joking, of course…)
Reading David Robert’s comment made me think I was reading my own. When he said he lived in a small, conservative town and that “if others knew, they would hate or be disgusted by me… because such sentiments were actually verbalized regularly… so the answer for me was finally to shut down emotionally…” was pretty much my situation.
When I finally did come out, it was first to a Roman Catholic priest. That was perhaps the wrong thing to do. The Church will not put a label on anyone. The Catholic Church claims labeling limits and disrespects people, unless, of course, if you are a father or mother, husband or wife. The Church claims that to say someone is “gay” or “lesbian” or a “homosexual” is to define a whole person by an aspect that locks up a person’s identity, blocks further emotional growth, and thus gives rise to prejudice and discrimination. Sure….
And so although I was ready to shout to the rafters that I was gay, my pastor warned me against telling anyone else of “my condition” – on top of the warnings about “the lifestyle.” He was a cousin and died soon thereafter and I had that fear at the time that coming-out to him was something of a strain. So I held off for another year before I told my mother, who was my surviving parent.
Coming out to a person is an act of faith or trust in that person. But moreso, coming out is an act of your own personal honor and respect.
It’s an act of sanity.
parents being jerks. Sometimes they do that. Unfortunately you can’t make them grow up.
I came out at 21. My parents were never able to deal with it. I tried very hard for years to educate them and to talk to them, but they literally refused to listen or think or experience. I sent them some books, and they wouldn’t even tell me that they had received them! My father basically said that I would always be their son, but they were not really interested in my life. Well, what can you say to that?
Eventually, on reflection and therapy, I began to realize that this was not really something new for them. The issue wasn’t actually my being gay, the issue was our whole relationship. They gay thing was just a very convenient hook they could hang the relationship hat on so they wouldn’t have to take any responsibility for their behavior.
“Everything would be fine if you just weren’t queer.” Well, not really.
Eventually, to their credit they did sort of welcome my then boyfriend into their home, but it was only because I told them that if I couldn’t bring him, they wouldn’t be seeing me at all.
Eventually, I wrote them a very long letter, but it was my final act before finally giving in to the idea that there was nothing I could ever do or say that would give me a relationship with them that I would want to have. and I told them as much.
I also told them this. I am quoting from memory a letter I wrote 25 or 30 years ago.
“It is clear to me that your beliefs about homosexuality and what it means to be gay are far more important to you than your relationship with your son, and certainly more important than such things as compassion, fairness, and truth. You might think a little about that. your attitude is never going to make me sorry that I am gay. It just makes me sorry that you are my parents.”
Harsh words, yes. but they really needed a slap upside the head. Unfortunately (or not), I didn’t have much connection with them after that. Not because I cut them off, but because I realized that all of the impetus for our relationship was coming from me, as it always had, not them. I merely stopped calling them when I was about 33, and except for one brief call from my father in the next three years, didn’t hear from them again until my father died in ’86. I had some contact with my mother after that, but then didn’t hear from her for 9 years more. she finally called me, and when I finally got out of her why she had waited 9 years to call, she said (exact quote) “I thought you were mad at me.”
Some relationship, huh?
One of the best books I ever read on the subject of parents was a book called “Making Peace with Your Parents” by Harold Bloomfield. I heartily recommend it, though I have always been amazed that people with problem parental relationships usually could not bear to read the book. I stopped trying to change my parents because I finally understood that I couldn’t, I could only change myself. But trying to change them was pretty much all that was left of our relationship, and when I didn’t have that, and when that was gone, there just wasn’t much holding us together.
When i married my late partner in 1992, I wanted to say this to my parents, even though they weren’t then a part of my life. I did say it to my brothers, who were considering not attending. “This is one of the most important and happy days of my life. I want my family to share my happiness with me. You can choose to confront your beliefs and opinions and be a part of it, or you can choose not to. All decisions have consequences. If you choose not to be a part of my life, don’t be surprised if the consequence is that you are not a part of it. I’m choosing truth and love, because this will make my life better. What are you choosing? ”
On the other hand, there is this.
I was raised by my biological family. My family was (and is) not just a little bit strange– ironically, I think I am the only one of four children that did not come out damaged. My Dad was OK– a good man with strong values and a good mind. He raised me properly, and I think I turned out well. But something was missing with him– I suspect it was what I call the gay Oedipus thing. My Dad recognized that I was very different from him (or entirely too similar to–take your pick) , and so we were perhaps not as close as we could have been, though we certainly had a decent relationship.
When I was 13, I met the boy who became my best friend, and his family became my family. I would escape there every weekend that I could. What a world of difference in how I was perceived and treated! John’s father, Dick, became a second father to me, in many ways, the father I always wanted, though he was far crazier in a lot of ways than my own father. His wife, Virginia, similarly became the mother I always wanted– loving and kind and supportive, not even just a little bit crazy, unlike my mother. They were the ones who showed up for my senior year choral concert– my own parents didn’t like classical music, and couldn’t be bothered. In all ways, Dick and Virginia were great parents to me, as they were with their own children.
Dick and Virginia were also very conservative and Christian. During the Watts riots, he said if “they” came near his house, he’d pull out his shotgun, sit on the front lawn and “pick off his limit”. Yes, THAT conservative.
For this reason, I was very hesitant to tell them I was gay. They were in fact the very last people I told, and I told them because I had made the commitment to myself that there would be no more lies. If I lost them, then I lost lost them.
So, I wrote them a long letter explaining the whole thing. I few weeks later, I received a response. Their words have always been engraved on my heart:
“It makes no difference to us. You are our son and we love you. We’re glad you told us, and we’re glad you loved us enough to tell us.”
I’m amazed (or maybe not) at how the ex-gay and reparative drive folks have reversed this, i.e. my dad was distant, so I became gay. Even though the same testimony usually describes a myriad of tangible ways the person really was different at an early age, they don’t seem to connect that some fathers pick up on their gay son before the son does, and don’t know how to relate. I guess if one is obsessed with causation (find a cause, find a cure!) this would make one happier.
I’m working on coming out. I’ve finally decided to look my sexuality in the face and admit that I’m gay. I’m a married male, 24 years with a 13 year old son. I’m right now torn about what divorce would do to him, which is delaying my coming out. I’ve done a bit of counseling and have come out to two friends. Both took it well and are supportive.
Like someone else above I grew up in a small town. At this point I’m still not aware of an out gay people in my home town. There are a few who are talked about, but no one who is out and proud. I was in college at the time that AIDS was first being discovered in gay men and was called “GRID”. It terrified me in that what I called my “bi-curiosity” was quickly buried deep and I soon found a girlfriend and married her. For years sex and the relationship were just fine, but some things don’t stay buried. The “curiosity” got the better of me and I strayed now and again with men. This last year for reasons I’m not quite sure of I got brave and made a call to see a counsellor. It took a number of sessions, but I finally faced up to being gay. I’m now working on figuring out when it’s going to be “best” to come out. And I’m working hard on being comfortable with the new realization. The “guy in the mirror” is still a bit scared about being told he’s gay.
I can see why I spent these years deeply closeted and in denial. Not seeing any role models and not even being aware that gay was an option while growing up in a small town. Timing of a number of events also scared me and reinforced the need to hide and deny things.
I admire you who have taken the steps. I’ll get there someday, but for now I’m still hiding part of me while that part is still scared and vulnerable. Thank you all for showing it can be done and that life is good and sometimes better after the storm.
Scott
I came out when I was 23. My mom didn’t know I was gay but my dad did, though I did not know he knew.
I had what might be described as a distant mother and overbearing father. (take that you exgay’ers ;)) They were both very cool about my announcement. My mom said, “it’s going to be fun having a gay son in the family”. I of course was so scared to tell them I almost didn’t for another year, as I was home on spring visit from So Cal. I’ve lead a fairly guiltless gay/bi life, but when I heard a tv broadcast of an interview with a 15 year old girl being beaten for being gay several years ago, I came emotionally unglued for a while and immediately started working for equal rights for G/Ls.
Jay your parents sound soo cool. It sounds like they are interestingly the antipathy of the majority called conservative parents on sexual issues. A conservative parent would be chilled at the thought of their gay son having sex and relationships, yours on the other hand are wondering why you’re not, both sets of parents possibly thinking, where did we go wrong? At least a smidge I would think. I must admit, it’s ironically a bit SNL humorous. The unconditional love is truly incredible. Even those that get it from their parents want it even more, guess it’s just a human thing, and where God steps in. You are very lucky.
Scott– good for you. All of these are difficult decisions. I know that you can come to this website and talk to intelligent, caring people who can help you.
David, I’ve been saying that myself! I don’t believe the stereotype that distant fathers create homosexuals or the other lie that getting molested by a male makes you gay either.
To me, the reverse of both situations seems more plausible and likely.
To me it seems more likely that a father picks up on the fact that his son is “different” and thus becomes distant to him. I don’t think it’s even a conscious choice. I think these fathers literally don’t know how to relate to their kids, so they back off.
It also seems more likely that a pedophile singles out the kid who’s “different” as that child will be more vulnerable, more isolated, and less likely to speak up.
Yes, Jason D, you’ve certainly got a point there. I think it’s generally agreed by those who have studied the methods of paedophiles that they don’t pick their victims haphazardly, but that they are extremely careful and calculating about it and pick on those whom they judge to be vulnerable. To take just one example of this, here is an extract from the diary of a Brazilian priest who was accused a few years ago of molesting young boys:
“Age: 7, 8, 9, 10. Sex: male. Social condition: poor. Family circumstances: preferably a boy without a father, living alone with a single mother or a sister. Where to find them: on the streets, in schools and in their family homes. How to attract them: guitar lessons, choir, serving on the altar. Very important: ingratiate yourself with their families. Target: a boy who is sensitive, quiet and grateful. In need of a father figure and without sexual scruples.”
(Source: DISCEPOLI DI VERITÀ, Segreto pontificio, Kaos Edizioni, 2007)
Clearly a boy who is, as you put it, “different” will be an obvious target for a sexual predator of this kind.
Yeah, they’re cool. They have a strong faith but they are pretty liberal. I mean, they’re artists, children of the ’60s, and very firm Democrats. I knew they’d be fine with whatever I decided to do with my life — as long as I was happy. I don’t think they’re thinking where they went wrong. In fact, they’ve both expressed admiration that I take all this so seriously, even if they don’t think it’s something I have to do. That means a lot to me.
And even so, knowing how liberal they were — and that they had gay friends and colleagues — I still was very reluctant to come out to them. I came out to my older brother back when I was 17, almost two full years before I told them. He and I are ridiculously close, though, and he is similarly liberal, another testament against the ex-gay idea that gay kids don’t feel accepted by males.