I used to work at Sam's Club. I usually worked opening shift and normally I would be casually, if a little sleepily, conversing with my mom on the way to work. Or maybe just leaning my head back and trying to rest my eyes for the half an hour drive that really felt like five minutes. Mornings are always chilly but this morning felt colder, the air between my mom and I was terse. I had just started college all over again at the age of 20 and had joined the rainbow club and started dating its founder. A very butch lesbian, "T", who was ten to eleven years my senior. Thirteen years and a lot of pain and hiding separates me from this memory in particular. I can't remember everything beat by beat like I used to, but I distinctly remember fiddling with a ring on my finger. It was silver because T knew I hated gold. It wasn't super special, just a silver ring with a pretty gem in the middle from the jewelry counter at Walmart but it was mine and it was from T. I had tried so hard to hide my relationship from my mom and my step dad. I didn't feel ready to fully come out to my family.
I didn't feel safe.
I knew neither of my parental units approved of homosexuality but after a while there is only so much you can hide and you have slip ups like having your girlfriend over to fix your computer...or wearing her ring.
My mom drove a big van but I felt fucking cornered. I just wanted to get to work and get out of the car.
"Are you fucking gay?!" She yelled at me.
"I'm bisexual", I answered after a short moment where I tried to gather my thoughts, stop my heart from pounding in my chest, and weigh the consequences of what I was about to tell my mom all in about ten seconds. I had secretly hoped that maybe what I heard of people coming out as bisexual would be true in my case. That usually homophobic parents would actually be somewhat calmer after hearing that and think it was "just a phase" or that their child wasn't "really gay" or whatever stereotype of bisexuals that usually makes coming out as one easier, or so I'm told anyways. I waited for her reply to that while I tensed up and readied myself in case she tried to hit me. I stared straight ahead.
She asked me if anyone else knew and I told her that I had come out to my grandma. Then she yelled out when was anyone going to tell her. This is the part in sitcoms where the parent reveals that they're going to have to get used to the idea of their child being queer but that they love them anyway. The audience would have laughed and 'aww'ed at this. I lowered my eyes and mumbled that I didn't know. Then we pulled in front of my workplace and I said goodbye. I remember her goodbye feeling like a stab and she sped away as soon as I shut the door.
A week later my mom's passive aggressiveness, snide comments, and generally making my life hell, would chase me out of the house and into the home of T.
It was six months later. My girlfriend was no longer my girlfriend but now my ex abuser. My mom let me move back in but only if I never, ever told my siblings about the reality of my relationship with T. It would take years for my mom and step dad to treat me like a member of the family again but my siblings welcomed me back home with open arms. None of them had understood why I had left so quickly or why I didn't visit for half a year. They were too young and too in the dark to understand why I called to only speak with them. Goddamn were they happy I was back home though. They were one of my main reasons I had for not killing myself as I spiraled through a depression for the next 8 or so years.
I didn't have a bedroom at the time anymore because the basement had been given to my younger brother and the spare bedroom was my little brother's. It would be a while longer of staying up until my mom and step dad finally decided to go to sleep so I could sleep on the couch before my little brother joined my other brother and I finally got a room for myself again.
I was upstairs passing time by talking with my sister. She was only around 11 at this time. She could tell something had happened and that both her dad and our mom were angry at me. It was hard not to tell. The emotional and mental abuse dealt out by my mom had been cranked up to 11. I was treated like an outsider at all times. They didn't talk to me unless they had to, or unless my mom had something rude to say.
I can't remember what started off this conversation, but I know I accidentally mentioned T somehow and she finally asked me what had happened. I was so scared to tell her. I don't know what my mom would have done but I truly believed that my staying in the closet was the only thing keeping me off the streets. She promised it would stay a secret between her and I and I believed her, we were always close. So we quietly shut her door and, in a whisper so my voice didn't carry through the vents to the living room or my brother's room, I told her everything. I told her that I was bisexual. I told her how mom had made it hard to live there and T had made it so easy to leave. I even told her why we had broken up, how T had abused me, and that's why I had to come back.
We both agreed that our little brother blabbed too much to be told, and that our other brother was very close to his dad so the secret would be best kept between us for now. A huge weight had lifted off my chest at that moment. I thanked her for being my sister.
About two years ago I was driving my little brother home. It was a long drive and late at night. If memory serves correct I had taken him to see a Rocky Horror showing at a theater and cultural center an hour away from us. We like to topic jump and had somehow gotten on the topic of gay rights I believe. I'm blaming Rocky Horror on this one because, well...Rocky Horror. Finally, with the same fear and worry in my heart I had felt all the other times recounted before, I told him everything I had told my sister years before. I apologized for having taken so long to do it. He told me that he didn't care if I was and he understood.
Then we started talking about his school grades.
I haven't told my other brother yet. Not because I believe him to be like his parents in his ideals. I know he's not. The time to do so just never came up. He follows me on instagram and he hearted my post about Harvey Milk's last words and 'remembering/learning your history' on Harvey Milk Day. I have also posted bisexual memes before until I remembered he followed and then said, 'oh well, fuck it. I don't live there anymore.' So I think that he probably knows though and just hasn't mentioned it because I never fully mentioned it.
Because I use IG to promote my blogposts, if you come across this blog. I'm sorry, I love you, I never meant to keep this a secret from you for this long.
Here's my last coming out story. It's actually my first one. It's a very happy one and one of the ones that I don't try to forcibly forget.
My friend Shawn and I were 17-18 years old, fresh out of high school. We were at a party at our mutual friend Jessica's house. The party was because Jessica and Shawn were moving into an apartment together. In a quiet corner in the living room, Shawn and I sat across from each other in plastic, white lawn chairs. He told me his feet were hurting and I asked if he wanted me to give him a foot rub. So he plopped a leg into my lap and I did the same to him. Before we switched legs he leaned in and told me in a whisper that he had a secret to tell me. He told me not to freak out and to keep it just between us two. I promised him and he knew I was good for my promises of secret keeping. Then he told me he was gay.
My mouth dropped open, "No way!" I whispered back. I looked around to make sure that my expression didn't draw attention and then I whispered, "Guess what? I'm bisexual!"
Now it was Shawn's turn to be surprised, "I can't believe we just came out to each other!" We were giddy with delight.
I once read in an article online somewhere that because everyone is assumed straight and cis, unless blatant about it or otherwise told, that LGBTQ+ people never have just one coming out. Our lives are a series of comings outs. Some are casual, some not, some are happy, some fraught with fear. I find for myself that as I get older I get more flippant and casual about letting people know. I'm here, I'm queer, and I'm fucking exhausted.
I wanted to share some of my personal stories not just because it's pride month and I needed to finally write something (damn it!), but because of this viral story of a straight pride parade that may or may not take place in August. I shouldn't have to question if a news story is coming from the Onion or not, but here we are. Even if the parade itself turns out to be a joke, stories like mine are why it is not only stupid, but hurtful. Especially in this political climate. The sentiment of straight pride and the questioning of queer pride from homophobes and transphobes and people ignorant of queer history is not new either.
There should never be a straight pride parade because straight, cis pride is everywhere we look. A straight, cis person will never experience a story like the ones I've just written. They will never experience anything that I, or the queers that came before me or the ones that I will be celebrating alongside at Pride, have experienced and will continue to experience.
Your sexual orientation will never be a reason why anyone would question if you should marry or adopt. In fact, children in high school will probably never write persuasive essays or have to list the pros and cons of letting you marry and adopt like I did when I was in school. You can use the bathroom without someone trying to harm you or incite others to do the same. Nothing about you is presumed to be a phase. You will not be killed for being straight or cis. You will never have to fear holding your significant other's hand because of your sexuality. You will never be kicked out of your home for being cis or straight.
Your parade will have started as either a joke or a need to flaunt your privilege over queer and trans people, for whatever reason.
Our parade started as a riot against police brutality and inequality. Our parades kept going to show the world that we weren't going to take this bullshit of being treated as second class citizens anymore.
We're here, we're queer, get fucking used to it.