Rather than rehash what is now old news, I thought I’d just post my coming out story as printed in The Advocate in October 2002. Happy National Coming Out Day! If you’re gay, tell someone today. If you’re in the closet and you need help, here are some resources.
My coming out story pales in comparison to that of my sister. Having just had her appendix taken out, my sister came to from the anesthesia in the recovery room. The way she describes the event makes it all the more humorous. Her eyes open to the site of my mother looking down on her. My sister was only able to mutter one sentence before lapsing back into unconsciousness. “Mom, I’m a lesbian.” How can anyone top that?
That was in 1995. It would be 6 years later, in August of 2001 that I would tell my mother and father that I’m gay. My road to being completely open with who I am started in 1998 when in a drunken stupor I wrote a letter to my best friend, Portia, telling her I was gay and how depressed I’d been about it for years. After sliding the letter into the mailbox I tried in vain to retrieve it. Four days later I spoke with Portia on the phone and she mentioned nothing. Needless to say, I was concerned. Had I come out only to live in silence? Two more days passed and she called again, this time in tears. She’d gotten my letter. Seven days for a letter to travel from Los Angeles to Berkeley? I’d written the wrong zip code on the envelope.
A few weeks later I was volunteering at a YMCA Youth & Government conference. When Portia arrived she was carrying a letter and laughing. She had come home to an empty house to retrieve her bags for the conference. Her roommate had left a note for her on her bags. He came out to her. My friend Portia… zero to fag-hag in 3.5 weeks.
Over the coming weeks and months I would begin the long process of coming out. I told friends. I told some family members, my lesbian sister and two other siblings.
The workplace was a completely different story. I’d been employed in the world of politics since I was 18. When I started coming out I had great fear that I’d lose my job. I was still a Republican, though I’d long since abandoned my belief in the principles of that party. I was working in several states for Arizona Senator John McCain’s presidential campaign and made time to hit local gay bars and clubs but I was always fearful that I’d be found out. While working in South Carolina I was attacked beside my car outside of a gay club. I had bruises and a blood shot eye. I showed up for work anyway making up stories about my eye and my injuries. Out of fear, I never reported the incident to the police. I lied to a doctor and nurse. What if it made the newspapers? I’d be ruined.
After Senator McCain lost the presidential campaign I was burnt out. I couldn’t stand the idea of working for people I couldn’t call friends or imagine spending time with outside the office. I was tired of trying to change the party from the inside of the closet. I was tired of trying to change the party into something that it certainly was not.
It didn’t take long to realize that the change I wanted could easily be found on the other side of the aisle.
Over the next year I finally built up the nerve to change gears in work. I switched parties and since that time have become active in Democratic politics and local GLBT causes. It feels great to finally be working for people and causes that I believe in.
Last August I came out to my parents. You think they’d take it a bit easier knowing that my sister started their coming out process nearly 7 years ago. But some things move slowly and they are still working through their own issues. I have to give them that opportunity. My mother has agreed to attend PFLAG meetings with me and I see that as a strong sign of willingness and support.
I have to say that the road has been surprisingly less bumpy than I ever imagined it would be. The sense of ease and liberation I have with my friends, family and co-workers is something I’ve always wanted and never thought I’d have. I know freedom today and I know happiness.
This new found freedom does not come without a price. I owe a tremendous debt to those who have come out before me and made my process a bit easier along the way. For years I sat in silence when gay jokes were told, when comments were made, when I was assaulted. I don’t have that luxury today. The deaths of Matt Shepard, Brandon Teena, Barry Winchell and thousands of others have taken that from me.
I have an obligation to stand up when the tongue of ignorance speaks. I have an obligation to defend those who cannot defend themselves. I have an obligation to vote and make certain my leaders hear my voice and concerns.
Coming out means so much more than telling someone that you are gay; it means freedom from the bondage of self hatred and fear. It means empowering yourself. It means allowing yourself the opportunity to love and be loved.
Today I can honestly say that I love and I am loved.
