Coming out: a long and often heart-wrenching journey(warning: this is long)

this is a little long, just to forewarn you


So, I officially came out to my mom when I was 16. But, you know the same old story, I always really knew that I was gay...

When I was little (around kindergarten age), I knew that there was something a little different about me than the other kids. I felt like I had this huge secret, and yet I didn't even fully understand what that secret was. I would chase boys pretending that I was going to kiss them only to play-pummel them to the ground. I liked dresses at the time, but I also liked getting rough and tumble in the mud with the boys. I had this female friend who would sometimes sit with me on the bus, and I loved when she did because it felt nice sitting so close to her and feeling her body warmth. I would shyly talk to her and steal glances at her face, not wanting to stare. But, she was also really popular, and everyone else wanted to sit with her too, so these instances were few and far between. I remember feeling jealous when she would sit with someone else, although for what reasons I wasn't able to discern. We soon grew apart as we got a little older and developed friends in different crowds. She was popular and I simply wasn't, it was just the way of things.

In fifth grade, I developed a few things; my body was beginning to look more womanly, and so I hid it the best I could under tomboyish baggy jeans and oversized-t-shirts, and also my first real crush on another girl. Sarah with an 'h'. She was beautiful- or so I believed in my pre-pubescent mind at the time. She had long thick black hair that was so shiny and silky looking, it was all I could do to keep myself from touching it 'by accident' once in a while, as it was also extremely long. Other girls started to catch on to my little crush, and would tease me about it, including the object of my desire; Sarah. I quickly became reclusive, and didn't do anything else that might make me seem like a 'homo' as the girls put it. I promised myself that from then on, I would make myself like boys.

My father always made homophobic remarks when I was young. "Fagela" was a fairly common word that I heard (a yiddish term that is also a derogatory term of a gay person meaning 'light in the shoes' or 'fairy'), as well as 'shvartza' (another derogatory yiddish term meaning 'nigger') that were used in our household. My mom never approved of this language, and was constantly telling my father to knock it off. My father told her and us (my two younger siblings and I) that if any of his children turned out to be gay, they would never be permitted to step foot in 'his' home again. This simply helped to reinforce my belief that I needed to change and be straight.
My childhood best friend decided to set me up with a guy friend of hers (she didn't know about me) and I relunctantly agreed to go out with him. He was the biggest a-hole I ever met in my life. And as it turns out, only the first guy of five that I would date. As I got older, the sexual pressures became greater. First, a boy that I was dating wanted to kiss me. Yuck. I felt so gross afterwards, even though he was very sweet and gentle about it. (We even managed to stay friends after I came out.) Then, the final straw came when I was 16 and the guy that I was dating kept pressuring me into having sex with him, even going as far as telling the entire school that we actually did it. I dumped him the day I heard the school-wide rumor. Two weeks later, I tearfully told my mom that I was gay.

It was a bit awkward at first, she sat there, not saying anything, and silently walked out of my room. Luckily, my parents were divorced by this time, so I didn't have to immediate deal with my father. I cried and cried after she left, thinking that my life was over. About an hour later she walked back in, hugged me tightly, and told me that she loved me no matter what. We both cried...a lot. Then she revealed to me that she had found a support group in the area from searching on the web called PFLAG, and that she was thinking of joining. That was the most wonderful news I could have heard her say. I knew a little bit about the group, having watched a lifetime movie called "The Truth about Jane" .(I highly recommend anyone considering coming out to watch it, or anyone in general.) I was lucky enough to have a good experience with her.

My father was another issue. My mom got sick when I was 17 and needed to be admitted into the hospital for treatment, and my siblings and I were stuck with him while she was there. I wanted to go so badly to the youth night at the gay and lesbian community center as I felt it was the only place that I was safe, and I could see my girlfriend while I was there. (My first) I told him that I wanted to go to this 'thing' in the area and could he drop me off at the local starbucks and I could walk the rest of the way. But unfortunately, he was insistent about knowing more about this place, and in the heat of an arguement, I told him that it was a gay safe haven, and that I was gay. He told me that I was not gay, that I didn't know what gay even meant, and that he wouldn't take me to this disgusting place. I told him that if he didn't take me, I'd find a way to get there on my own, and he didn't say anything. When I got back, he and his new wife began screaming at me and telling me that I was disgusting and had to get out of their house. I ran upstairs crying to the room that I was staying in, locked the door, and called the police. They arrived while I was still in the bedroom with the door locked, and so they told the police that everything was fine, and it was just a misunderstanding. They left me alone the rest of the night, and allowed me to stay at my house until my mom returned a few days later.

When I turned 19, I finally told both sets of grandparents. My mom's parents had no issue with it, although they didn't know anyone else who was gay besides a distant relative, and requested that I give them some time to get used to this change, which I did and they were fine. My father's parents told me that I was going through a phase, and now they don't speak to me at all, nor allow me to be around my younger cousins, the youngest of whom is 5 and the oldest is 17.

My younger siblings have been cool with it, especially the youngest, my brother. We've actually formed a closer bond since I came out to them, a little less than four and a half years ago.

And that's my story, and it seems to continue to unravel as life goes on. Currently, I'm happier than I've ever been with my partner and fiance of 8 months. The friends and family that are a part of my life are so supportive and loving, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

 

thank you both