Today, October 11, is National Coming Out Day:
National Coming Out Day is an internationally observed civil awareness day for coming out and discussion about gay, lesbian, bisexual, asexual and transgender (LGBT) issues.
Being “out” means a lot of things depending on who you’re talking with. As people get to know me, most figure out that I’m gay. It’s not something I typically hide. But being gay is just one piece of the puzzle that makes up me. If people won’t accept me as a person for the example I live by, then why bother adding anything else they obviously won’t be able to deal with? I sometimes think people are so busy looking at the puzzle pieces they don’t see the whole picture.
Besides being gay: my earlobes are unattached, I’m predominantly right-handed, and my second toe is longer than my big toe. All these traits though are what make me… me.
Living life could be so much easier on this planet if we really followed one simple truth: treat others as you would want to be treated.
Joe at Joe.My.God. asked some questions on his blog that I would like to answer here. I guess I turned them into a “National Coming Out Day Meme”.
Who was the very first person you came out to?
Oddly enough, I would say myself. At least in my way of thinking. Before I could even come out to anyone else, I had to come out to myself. All those years of denying who I really was to satisfy those around me: my family, my “friends”, my religion. When I accepted the truth about all those thoughts and feelings that I inherently knew to not be wrong, that was the moment I came out to myself.
How’d they handle the news?
All the years of confusion caused by the brainwashing of religion. Years of denial of who I really was. The moment I realized all of their “truths” were lies, I wept.
What about your parents?
They didn’t take it well. They went all “Bible” on me. And still do to this day.
And since they say coming out is a never-ending process, who was the most recent person you came out to?
One of my tattoo clients. We were talking while I was tattooing him. He used the word “faggot” in a derogatory manner (not that I think there’s a way to use it in not such a manner). I told him a “faggot” was permanently marking his body. Which eventually led to a good discussion of the use of such words and the harm they cause. I think he realized the error of his ways. I think.
How about you? If you’re gay, how has your “out” experience been? If you’re not, have you had a friend come out to you? How was that experience for you, and for your friend?
Until next time...
I told him a “faggot” was permanently marking his body
Good for you for not inscribing the word “FAGGOT” on his ass.
I would have had to charge extra for that. 😉
I think of myself as “semi-out”. I don’t go around with rainbows and glitter and making sure everyone I come in contact with knows.
But if someone legitimately asks me, I tell them the truth.
That’s how I’ve always been. There’s a time and a place for everything. And living in the South there are definitely some places one doesn’t go around throwing glitter everywhere.
I came out the moment I knew it was true, rather than something I wasn’t supposed to feel. I was 20 so my life was pretty ingrained in the non-gay part, what with a marriage and child already behind me. It seemed so easy at first (after the nail-biting few minutes of actually saying it out loud) but eventually my “friends” let the truth about how they feel creep in from time to time. I have one of those ones left. He’s been distant compared to before.
I have been out at the few jobs I’ve had since I was 20, and I pretty much think about 75% of my coworkers either don’t know or care, but the smaller percentage of that last bit is filled with “tolerant” ones that really stand out because we all know the “tolerance” is just the sham it always has been to cover up homophobia.
And I’m okay with that. I tolerate them as well. Not that there is anything wrong with being straight, as long as they keep it to themselves and don’t show it in public. 😉
I always cringe when I hear someone say they “tolerate” something. That always seemed the P.C. way of saying I’m anti-whatever-it-referenced.
I came to the realization that I was gay, and accepted it, one night during 8th grade. Nearly a year went by before I told another person I was gay. That happened when I was 14. I don’t have “GAY” tattooed on my forehead, but unless someone is thick he should be able to figure it out.
If someone (a peer or client) asks about my wife, I tell him I have a husband, his name is Greg, and he’s doing quite fine.
You should’ve fucked-up his ink.
The thought crossed my mind. But sadly, I have a “moral center” that prohibits me from doing that.
Wait… wait. Your 2nd toe is longer than your big toe? Alien toes!!
*Unfriend!!*
I think it’s why I have a difficult time wearing flip-flops.