I don't usually write diaries and I rarely even comment on DKos these days, but after reading some of the comments to this diary and then this response diary I decided I would write down my thoughts on coming out in hopes that somebody might get something out of it.
I grew up in a very conservative small town in central Washington State. I knew I was different from the time I was a small child. It wasn’t until puberty hit that I realized why. I never talked about it with anybody because I learned quickly from those around me the extent to which gay people were hated and despised. I guarded my secret closely and I was determined to rid myself of that part of me. I was so ashamed and disgusted at the person I knew I was deep down. I would sometimes hear my “friends” say things like “all faggots should be tortured and executed,” or that “the world would be better off if all sodomites died.” Needless to say, by the time I got to high school I was filled with extreme self-hatred. I went through high school thinking if I just had lots of girlfriends and (consensual) sex with as many girls as I could I would eventually have to turn straight. That attitude, combined with a non-existent sense of self-worth helped to shape me into a tornado that blew through many innocent people’s lives, leaving a trail of wreckage and destruction in my wake. It was not pretty. I hadn’t even acted on my same-sex attraction yet, but in my distorted thinking there was no escaping the fact that deep down I was a filthy “faggot”.
When I was a senior in high school I remember thinking that no matter what, at least my mother would always love me. She always did after all. Then one day at the dinner table we were discussing this new disease called AIDS that was hitting the gay community. I remember my mom saying “those guys all deserve to die for being homosexual.” The one person I thought would always love me, no matter what, had unknowingly taken a knife, stabbed it in into my heart, and twisted it. The pain was unbearable. I graduated from high school shortly afterwards and left town for the “big city” of Spokane. I was still the tornado spiraling out of control but I still did not act on my same-sex urges. After a few horrible years and surviving a couple accidental overdoses, I decided it was time to do something about my problem. I was going to rid the world of me once and for all. I wasn’t even able to do that right.
I ended up in an institution, defeated and broken in my early twenties. It was there that I met a psychologist named Jim. I had never before talked with a mental health professional. I just assumed that if I were to tell my secret they would give up on me in disgust and that would be that. This is how distorted my thinking was at this point. This is what I was taught to believe. I came out to Jim and he didn’t give up on me in disgust. I spent many months working with Jim and learning that I was a decent person that deserved to have a rewarding, happy life just as much as any other person. I had to be taught that it was just fine to be gay. I had to learn to accept myself as I was and that deep down I was a good person. That concept did not come easy to me. I was a tough nut to crack. I quit doing hard drugs and have never gone back. About a year after getting out of that hospital I finally had my first sexual encounter with another man. Thankfully, I had put my self-destructive behavior behind me and practiced safe-sex from the get go. As I grew more comfortable with myself I felt a need, yes a need, to come out to my family. For me it was part of the process of accepting myself as I was, regardless of what others might have thought.
I came out to my older brother first. He too had moved away when he graduated from high school and never looked back. He had moved to New York City. I had always suspected he might be gay too, but neither of us ever dared talk about it. My suspicions were right. I came out to him, and he came out to me. He also came out to me that he was HIV positive. Thus began a deep and meaningful relationship we had never had growing up. I was so very heartbroken to be holding his hand when he died five years later. I was also honored to be a part of his life on a level I had never experienced before. It was a gift neither of us would have had if we hadn’t come out to each other. My brother and I had both come out to rest of our family, and in time they came around and grew. Thanks to groups like PFLAG, my mom became the best pro-gay advocate you could imagine. She went from being a hard-core republican to a die-hard liberal the last 15 years of her life. Not just on gay issues either. We grew closer than ever before. It might never have happened if my brother and I hadn’t come out.
A few years after coming out I met the love of my life. He came from a very similar upbringing. He got to know all my brothers and my mom viewed him as her sixth son. I’ve had an amazing and wonderful life with him for almost 23 years now. We’ve always been out about our relationship to anyone that has known us. Not in-your-face, but we’ve never hid it either. Why? Because as Harvey Milk said, “Coming out is the most political thing you can do.” He’s right too. I don’t think we would have seen the changes we have over the past few decades if not for gay men and women coming out and living their lives productively and happily. If coming out helps any of today’s young people avoid the self-hate and pain that I experienced then it’s worth it. Harvey also said, “All young people, regardless of sexual orientation or identity, deserve a safe and supportive environment in which to achieve their full potential.” I only wish I had known about Harvey Milk and his message when I was growing up.
We all have our own journeys in getting to know, accept, and love ourselves. Sometimes that involves coming out. If you feel no need to come out or don’t understand why others do, that’s fine. For some of us though, coming out is a matter of telling the world that we are not ashamed of who we are and that we will never again live a lie. Some people wonder why there is a need for gay pride. For me that’s an easy one to answer. I’m proud to have eventually made the right choices and ended up a well-adjusted, happy adult, despite the hellish closet I grew up in. To all those who have burst down those closet doors, I say bravo!