When I Came Out

When I came out it was to a room full of my drunken friends in a pub aged 17. None of them remembered so I had to do it all again the next day.

When I came out to my sister she was so excited she called my other sister at 2am, woke her up, and told her to come over to her house because I had news to tell her. My sister responded, “Did he finally come out?” to which my other sister said, “Just get the hell over here!” She did and we had a great conversation. Both were also there for me when I came out to my parents the next night.

When I came out in junior high a little over a decade ago, my mom accused me of saying it just to hurt her, scolded me each time she caught my girlfriend and I showing affection in public because she worried I’d get hurt if people found out, and eventually forced me into counseling. Ten years later, after being treated for depression and anxiety, she attended a religious retreat at which she was honored as a major speaker wearing a huge pin asking viewers to speak with her about her queer, genderqueer child. Sometimes it takes time!

When I came out, it was the most freeing moment of my life. I came out to my best friend at college, and he told me, “I’m with you through thick and thin.” I was afterwards a groomsman at his wedding, and his family loves me like one of their family. I could finally be truthful to myself and everyone else in my life…

When I came out,my mom was very upset about it, but my dad took it rather differently. After a long and difficult conversation with both parents, I went to bed early, with my head by the footboard and my feet on the pillow. When my dad came in to wake me up, he said, “I have some concerns about your orientation.” I nodded, internally cringing at the thought of what was coming next. “Well, I’ll just come out with it,” he continued. “Your feet are by the headboard, and your head is where your feet should be.”

When I came out to my parents the first time, they were very upset. Whenever I brought up the subject or tried to assert my identity my dad would act mean towards me. Seven years later my mom started to accept me, secretly, but not in front of my dad. Nine years later when I came out to my dad for the third time — and after I had been on hormones for a year and a half — he finally accepted me as his daughter.

When I came out, I asked my mother to tell my father for me, because I was scared. Two minutes later, he came into the room and gave me a hug, and told me that it didn’t matter if I was dating a girl. He was still proud to be my father.

When I came out to my new college friends and roommates, they barely reacted–just stared at me. I thought they were freaked, didn’t know what to say. But when I mentioned that, months later, they said, “No–sweetie, it was *7am*. You could have told us you fellated goats, and we would have just yawned and said, ‘Oh. Pass the salt?'”

When I came out my dad said, “At least we won’t have to pay for a wedding.” It was short-lived when my mom reminded him gay marrige is legal in Canada.

When I came out as asexual, my dad grunted and walked away from me. That night, he stared me down while I ate. He wanted it to be clear: he wasn’t going to judge me for my sexuality the way he’d judge me for taking his last granola bar.