Coming Out: Besuchan's Story

You always told me to be honest to you, mom...you hate when I lie to you.  I'll be honest right now and say I lie often, I know I do.  It hurts when I lie to you, but sometimes I wonder if the truth is really something you want to hear?

Like, when was it, two or three years ago?  The school paper was making a help column for kids to ask questions for help in their 'lives'.  My English teacher asked each of us to write a question down and if our question was in the paper, we would get extra credit.

Now, I was never a popular kid, mom, and you knew that.  Since I was young I remember being teased and made fun of, with only a few friends to fall back on for support.  So when everyone was gossiping with one another, I sat at my desk and stared at my piece of paper.  I heard all around me "I wanna ask what color make up I should wear in the fall" or "I think I'll ask where's a good place to get my nails done".  No, seriously, those were the questions people wrote down.

Meanwhile, I was staring at my own blank piece of white line paper.  I knew exactly what I was going to ask, but was it really something I wanted to come out with?

I had already been admitting to my friends that I thought I was bisexual, but whenever I said it, it sounded like a lie.  I knew the honest truth, but not until much later, after I started coming out.  But I'll leave that story for later.

The question stuck in the back of my mind while I tapped the eraser to my pencil against the wooden top of my desk.  Everyone had already put their questions of make up, nails, and hair (I'm not even kidding, those were the topics of my English class) and I still hadn't written a thing.  I was afraid.

Since the end of my relationship with my last boyfriend, I had been left in a sort of dependent and emotionally sensitive state of mind that I'm still suffering from this very day.  There's nothing I want more than to be accepted and loved.

You noticed it too, mom.  You're always commenting about how 'before so-and-so you used to be more independent.  What happened?'  What happened, mom, was the emotional abuse I had to suffer that whole year and a half.

All this runs through my mind, and I finally decide to write down the question.  In a nutshell, it went something along the lines of 'I'm gay and scared to admit it'.  I signed it anonymously for obvious reasons.

The time after that I spent confronting my friends and asking them what their views on homosexuality were.  Most of them were accepting (and a few of them actually turned out being bi or gay themselves), but one friend cut her ties from me altogether because she was homophobic.

To be honest mom, I really don’t miss her.

Then the day arrived when that newspaper was printed out.  I wasn’t nervous, mainly because I didn’t think they had put up my question.  I open the paper and read the article about the school play and the other articles that were written.

Soon enough, I get to the advice column and my heart starts pacing.  Why?  Because I saw my anonymous signature.  They had indeed answered my question.

It comforted me, since the writer was a supporter of gay pride.  I was told to come out at my own pace and do what I thought was right for myself.  That gave me the confidence I needed to come out to my close circle of friends.

You want to know something funny though, mom?  My friends already knew.  They had pretty much figured out I was gay when I asked them about their views, and when they saw the question, they knew precisely who wrote it.  If memory serves me correctly, mom, I got a lot of hugs that day.

But the hard part was just starting.  I had come out to my friends, and I was planning on coming out to others, but I wasn’t sure how you and dad would react if you found out.  And to be honest, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know.

But you eventually found out anyway, when a friend mentioned in ear shot of you that I had written something in the paper. Specifically in the advice column.  So you went into my backpack and read the questions.  Immediately I saw your face go pale and I could tell you were in shock.  I was suddenly terrified, thinking the worst would happen now that you knew my secret.

After a while, you left the room, and I started crying.  I felt like you weren’t going to accept me anymore, and it only grew when you returned with dad.  The first thing you said to me was "This is nothing to worry about, it’s only a phase."  As you tried to comfort me.  But it only made me feel worse, mom.  You couldn’t accept that I was gay, and you had to say it was a phase?  "It’s only a phase...no daughter of mine is going to be gay."

That really killed me, mom.  I didn’t feel like your daughter anymore.  I felt like a stranger in my own home.  I was told by you to keep this whole ’gay thing’ a secret.  Don’t go telling my friends because when the phase was over, they wouldn’t appreciate me lying to them.  I wasn’t supposed to tell my sister either.  But it’s still unclear why I was supposed to keep it from her.

About a year or so later, I had my first girlfriend.  It wasn’t so much of a serious relationship as it was to see if there was any chemistry between us.  You found out, and just exploded.  "You’re not finished with this phase yet?!"  Was what I heard you say.

I wanted so badly to make you proud of me, mom.  I really did.  Right then and there I would have given anything to make you right, just so I could feel like I belonged in the family again.   That was when I decided that anything that goes on in my love life, I would keep from you.

My senior year is when everything finally started coming into place.  It’s when I met -her-.

I swear, mom.  If you could only see how happy we are together.  But when I hinted that we liked each other, you rolled you eyes, groaned, and refused to talk to me.

I guess it’s lucky I have my girlfriend.  She can give me the love and support I need.

I’m not saying you don’t love me, mom.  I know you do.  But you need to start making more of an effort to show it.

Sooner or later, mom, I’ll be moving out and getting my own place.  And the thing is, with the way things are going now, we might not get to spend future holidays together.  I just won’t feel comfortable.  I don’t want to sever all my ties with you, so please just accept me.

I love you, mommy.