Every LGBT person has a different and unique story about their life and coming out. Some are joyful- Parents and friends accepting them for who they are, people caring about them no matter what, and a sense of overall acceptance toward the person. Others are horrifying- Teenagers being kicked out of their houses because of their sexual orientation, being taunted and beat up and school, and not having anyone to turn to or trust because they are different. Well, I want to hear your story.
You can share your story in the “Comments” section below. I will compile the stories into a few posts. If I use your story, I will contact you via e-mail before I do.
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It was funny… my mom and I were talking about people naming their positions, and what it might mean. Just theories, but still kinda interesting. For example, I said that I thought it was weird that guys usually name their cars, or computers and guns and such girl names. I thought that they would give them guy names, seeing as they were such “great, useful, and powerfully needed” items, and in history as you know, guys are the boss, and the dominant and needed factor in everything -__- (so they think, right? hahaha ^_^ )
But then my mom said that they named them after girls (usually) because alot of guys feel like they dominate those items. They see themselves as the boss, or in charge. Just like how alot of them think they are the boss of women.
I was like, “Ohhhhhh! That makes sense! Cuz most of my electronics that I named (3 items) are named guy names, but I have 2 that I named after girls. I do usually ‘like like’ more, but I wouldnt be apposed to ever being with a girl.”
Realizing what I said, I kinda froze, and waited to see what she said back. This is what she said.
“Oh, me too!”
I was like, “WHAT?!?!?!” O_O In my head of course~ But ya. Suchhhhh a HUGE surprise! XD Awesome, but surprising *^-^*
I came out when I was in 8th grade. Generally, most of my peers were accepting of me as a gay male; however, many who didn’t know me hated me without knowing a thing about me. They hated me simply because I was gay.
I started a county wide Gay-Straight Alliance my senior year of high school to protest some anti-Gay adults who took their gay children out of school because of their sexual orientation. For some reason, they thought that if they took them out of our school district, they would become straight.
After starting the GSA, many people came out, but many people began to hate gay people and make fun of the GSA without knowing a thing about it. They had never bothered to get to know me or anyone else that was gay for the simple fact that we were different. My car has been vandalized twice at my house totaling $10,000+ in damages because of my openly gay lifestyle.
I wouldn’t change what I did, however. The GSA was amazing while it lasted. I helped people to come out and become comfortable with themselves.
I never told my parents; I’m 20 and in college now and they still don’t know. I’ve heard the way they talk about gays. I hear the hate speak that they say, and I know they’d never be able to understand. I understand that I’ll never be accepted by them, but it’s not my fault, nor is it theirs; It’s just the way they were raised. They were taught to be hateful of things that are different.
We can’t teach our children that anymore.
I cant quite remember when I absolutely, undoubtedly knew I was gay. It was in those early days when my body was first developing that I began to notice a defined difference in my own sexuality. I did not talk the same talk that my peers did. I was not interested in the same things. I liked girls though, emotionally at least. I dated many girls in those timid young days, but when my friends and others began to pull ahead and began branching into curiosities with girls, I didn’t. I refrained and I didn’t understand why, why I wasn’t drawn to the same things.
It is terrifying at first. I realized I was inherently different, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. Why was I different? I had nobody to talk to, hell, I had no idea what was wrong.
I started to figure things out when I, under a sick feeling of guilt, proposed mentally that I might be interested in both sexes. I continued to date girls, I was still so young though, so hopeful. I had hopes that finding the right girl would solve my problem, or I would grow older and pass out of some phase.
I guess, though, that the truth had always been there. Somewhere, in the abyss of my mind, lurked that unthinkable thought. I hid from its truth, and refuted it. I lied to myself and said, if anything, I was bisexual. In eighth grade was when I think I finally admitted it. I had never even let my idle mind think it before. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought the words. I said ‘you are gay’ over and over. The weirdest thing was how much it hurt, how hard it was. And looking back now, seeing how pained I was, I almost laugh.
But then I must remind myself what situation I was in, how alone I felt. I knew I wasn’t the only gay person out there, I knew I wasn’t the only confused teenager. What I felt, was helplessness. Even though there were gay people in the world, how was I to contact them? How was I supposed to find camaraderie from behind my lies? That is the loneliness I felt. I remember it to this day, like I was in a cage.
Life continued though. After the eighth grade I grew up a little, found solace on the internet, and began to slowly try and find people like myself. I was still so timid though and the perversity I found online scared me. Still I was lonely. I branched out more and more until the fateful day my parents stumbled across my secrets. I can still hear the tone in my mothers voice when she said that dad and her needed to talk to me. I knew in that second why and in that one moment my heart seemed to seize up and swell. I cried. I curled my head into my lap and cried for so long it seemed. I didn’t even realize what my parents were saying until later after they left, all I remember is crying. Being gay was my secret of all secrets, the one thing I held close because it was my hardship but also my companion. My life was ripped open for that whole week because the thing I held so dear, wasn’t mine anymore. Now, looking back, I am thankful. My parents, that night, did not judge me once, or rebuke me or my orientation. I was so caught up in my own pain that I missed the most beautiful thing my parents have ever done for me. They told me they loved me. They had only just found out, but it didn’t matter so much my sexuality. They said they were scared for me. It fills my heart everytime that this is my family. That was their reaction, and it was probably the best thing that has ever happened in my life. They told me they loved me.
I realized my orientation wasn’t something to be ashamed of, nor something that I needed to hide away. My mother told me (quite awkwardly) that people are really perverse sexually, that probably some of my teachers in school used whips and leather and had fetishes for feet, and hell, I was just gay. Now I imagine my math teacher whipping his wife every night and my school counselor sniffing her husband’s feet.
Life has gone on and every day I am happier, but also a little sadder. My family was such a huge part of my self-acceptance and many LGBT youth don’t have the same support. I do not know who I would be if I didn’t have my parents or my family. The world seems to be changing into a more accepting one, but still young people everywhere have no support. Everyday tears are cried in pain, the same pain that I used to feel, over something as small as a preference. I do not believe it needs to be this way. Sometimes all we need is a hand, extended, saying that it is okay to be gay. Because it truly is okay.
I had always been aware that my sexuality was different, because I had had experiences of falling in love with a boy and a few girls. But I wasn’t sure what to name it. And during such confusedness, I began reading feminist books that also dealt with sexuality. Since I knew my mom was a bit feminist (lol), I recommended she should read some of the books I had read. That was the preparation phase. Then, when I was living by myself in a foreign country for studying abroad for one year, I came out on my then-website, saying I was bisexual. I also shared some stories of my past greatest crush who was a boy. After a few months, I gave my mom and some friends back in Japan the URL of my website. That’s how I came out to them. Safety guaranteed. It allowed some time for them to think and process it. All responses I got were positive, even the one from my friend whom I had thought would freak out.
But then, I never really come out to friends with whom I usually hung out. I was afraid of homophobic/biphobic attacks from them, especially because I wasn’t particularly a popular student at school. After another year spent in California, I wrote that I was gay in my yearbook senior page. A friend of mine, who was a male student editor in our yearbook club, found out and came out to me! We started dating (lol). At the senior graduation party another girl came up to me and told me she was lesbian. These two incidents taught me that I wasn’t alone. One revelation leads to another!
So in college, I wasn’t afraid anymore. I joined the GSA club, made a feminist/queer student club myself as well, and never hesitated to tell people that I wasn’t heterosexual. There was one time a guy completely refused to hear about my sexuality or even a tiny bit of story about my relationship with my then boyfriend. But the next day, he sat next to me at the cafeteria and joined to talk about relationships (including mine!). I guess he needed a little time to think and accept.
So, overall, I think my strategy of coming out has always had something to do with “allowing others time to think about it,” “trusting people and never assuming that they would attack you,” and “writing when talking seems too hard.”
Interestingly, ever since I came out, I have had less opportunities to have sexual relations with boys (same sex)! LOL I guess it has something to with homophobia, making boys afraid to “name” what they are doing.
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I was 13 when I first thought I might be attracted to males. I was very religious Mormon to be exact. I went to my bishop and explained how I felt. He told me that I had made a good choice coming to him, that in doing so on my own accord just to pray to god for help. That God would take the feelings away. That since I was being humble and whatnot that God would help. At age 16 I stopped praying. 3 years and it only got “worse”. I had no attraction to females, and was constantly checking out guys.
I stopped praying because obviously it wasn’t doing anything. That gave me two conclusions, God isn’t real, or God loves me just the way I am. Maybe to him he thought I was asking “God please help me hate Mt. Dew. I don’t want to drink it”. Maybe to him it was a ridiculous request. At any rate I finally accepted myself, however my family was still unware. I was their perfect child and they would boast about me to the rest of the family or their friends. I always felt like if they ever find out, it would do a 180.
I was a newspaper carrier, I was working with my route manager. I ended up telling her, we were close. She looked at me smiled and said “Yeah, Big deal. I like men to”. I’m very glad she was so mellow about it. I was worried this whole time that people who knew me and liked me, would hear the news and disown me.
Soon after, I told a friend, another friend, after about a month I was walking thru school and kids I had no idea who they were would be like “Dude there’s the gay kid.” I was from Utah so to them seeing a gay person was rare.
I started having panic attacks, heart papulations because I really wanted to tell my parents. I felt like I was living a lie. During Seminary class, an off school Mormon class I felt like I couldn’t breath. I must have looked terrible because my teacher told me to go to the office. I ended up going to the hospital. That night I told my parents I was gay. It was a very big drama ordeal. They didnt really show any emotion. I thought wow just maybe it needs to settle in. They haven’t grabbed their pichforks yet. Maybe it’ll be okay.
1 week later, I came home from hanging out with a friend around 1am. My parents were awake and said we were having a family meeting. I said right now? It’s 1am. They said it was a special meeting. I went and took my shoes off in my bedroom and came back to the living room.
My mother pulled out the bible and started reading scriptures, scriputres about being a homosexual. After she got done reading all those hateful scriptures she looked at me and said. “Well now you know how God feels about gays. Still think its alright?” I said yes. She said that God says its not okay and I shouldnt question God. I said the bible is a book written by men. She told me to get the hell out of the house. I started for my bedroom door to get my shoes. She jumped up and blocked my way and told me again to leave. I said I’m just grabbing my shoes. She said no you arent, and told me again to leave. Finally after a few minutes she ran back and came back with my shoes and a pair of socks and told me to get the hell out. Now its 2am. I’m outside (wearing shoes luckly.) After a few calls I went to a friends house.
I ended up calling the cops to go back to the house to get my stuff. When I met with the cop he told me that I was a minor and that I HAD to go back home. So he took me home and talked to my parents. He told them that they couldn’t kick me out. So the cop motioned me back into the house. It was a horrible feeling, the idea of being fed to the wolves. I went back inside.
Much drama happened the next year. Arugments with my parents. Falling out with friends due my sexuality.
One awesome memory I had was Gym class in the locker room. NO this ain’t a sexual story. I was the person to unlock the doors for the locker room. A asshole kind of guy said “hurry up fag” I told him to F*** off. A few minutes later in the locker room. I was at the end of the locker room changing back into my street clothes when the guy came up with like 4 other guys. Calling me anitgay names and I was thinking wow is this really going to happen? Am, I really going to get my ass kicked for being gay. Just then when the 4 guys were inches away from me, about 10 other guys came up and pretty much screamed in sync “LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!” They were all the buff jock guys. I didn’t even know half of them. The 4 guys saw their defeat and just walked away. It was an amazing feeling being rescued like that. Having people stick up for me. The rest of the year, the 4 guys never even looked in my direction again.
My parents and I agreed it was best if I moved out when I was 18. My birthday was in May and my school didnt end until June. I asked to stay the extra month they told me no. So I had to drop out of high school. In April I had come home and found a large suitcase full of my clothes. I asked what was going on, they proclaimed they were taking me to a boy ranch to fix me. I laughed. They got offended and said your going no matter what. I said you cant make me I’m 18 next month. You have no control over me! They didn’t like that and said oh yeah lets see what the police have to say about that. I said okay call them. They said no. So I pulled out my cell and called. After the police showed up, they looked at my parents and asked “does he do drugs? Is he violent? has he hurt anyone? Is he drinking?” My parents knew I didn’t do that so they said no. So the cop kinda chuckled and said well a boys ranch won’t do anything for him then. I then jumped in and said yeah there are probably more ass F****** in the shower room there than a gay orgy. Again the cop laughed. I felt stupid afterwards but the cops agreed with me. My parents admitted defeat and let me back into the house. My birthday was on May 13th. My stepmother came to me, said she thought it would proabaly be easier for me to move out on the Sat before. I said how would it be easier? She just said I think its best if you move out on May 8th. I didn’t care I was excited to get out of hell. The day off the move, my parents were packing a few kitchen items, and packing it into the car. I was waiting for my friend to pick me and my stuff up. My step mom asked for my key and said lock up when you leave. Then proceded to go to the car, which my dad and little brother were already in. I asked “your not going to see me out.” She looked at me and smiled saying it was the family renuion today and they needed to go now. Now I understood why I was moving out that day, they didn’t want me to go.
Now I’m 23 once in awhile I’ll get a small email from my stepmom telling me about my lil brother and the family. She NEVER asks how I’m doing or asks about me. She has made very few hints thats shes a little sorry on how they treated me.
Anyways, I could only spend so many nights crying myself to sleep. Eventually I got over it. The holidays are ruff. Other than that I know I don’t need them in my life. Would I like it? Hell yea. But you can’t turn back time. You can’t take back actions or words. Hell one time I heard my step mom tell her best friend she wanted to take a baseball bat against my head to knock some sense in me.
But I got over it. I might be a lil bitter, but I’m stronger.