"Coming Out" | 'Rise Up: Stonewall and the LGBTQ Rights Movement'

“Coming Out” used to be a celebration for a young, upper-class woman who had reached adulthood. There would be a party to display her to eligible bachelors with the intention to marry her off. The practice continues in many countries around the world. but in the middle of the 20th century this phrase took on a new meaning.

Most LGBTQIA+ people have felt the need to hide who they were or stay “in the closet.” Walking through the Rise Up: Stonewall and the LGBTQ Rights Movement exhibition shows plenty of reasons why. We were considered perverts, deviants, sick, and a moral menace. We could be arrested, jailed, fired, institutionalized, beaten, or killed. However, some brave souls began to “come out of the closet.”

I grew up in a suburb of Boston around this time, the 1970s/80s. I knew I was different as soon as puberty hit, and I knew I shouldn’t tell anybody. LGBTQIA+ people were rarely shown on TV and in movies. Gay men were depicted as flamboyant and often seen as a joke. The first time I remember seeing lesbians on TV was on a news magazine type show. They were sad and fearful. The message was clear: it was a life of misery. The excitement of a lesbian kiss on the show L.A. Law was dashed when that relationship didn’t work out. In high school, a friend thought I was interested in her (I wasn’t) and told our entire circle of friends. They looked at me like I was a pile of garbage, and I felt the need to avoid them for the remainder of two years there. Only one of them asked me if it was true and continued being friends with me.

It wasn’t until I had been in college for a couple of years that I felt I might be ready to come out. I suppose I had reached adulthood, like those debutantes attending their parties. But here’s the thing about coming out of the closet: it’s not one big party, as with the debutantes. You must do it again, and again, and again. With every new school, friend, or job, you need to find the correct time to come out. I inadvertently came out to a friend by revealing a crush on another friend. He (who came out sometime later) advised me to keep it a secret and almost taunted me about knowing my secret. I told another friend about it in her dorm room, and she felt the need to turn up the TV so that no one would overhear us. I told a few more friends and was quick to reassure them that I wasn’t attracted to them. One asked why I wasn’t. One told me that it was just an excuse for not having a boyfriend and that everyone experiments, but it doesn’t mean anything. One wanted to know why I hadn’t told them sooner because now there was something finally interesting about me. Before graduating, I got around to coming out to my crush. If there hadn’t been a wall behind her, I’m sure she would have put more distance between us. She emphatically told me she was “into guys.” This wasn’t a surprise to me. I never expected her to reciprocate.

When people want to hear your coming out story, I think they are referring to when you tell your family. The fear of being rejected by your parents is often the worst. Some children have been disowned and kicked out of their homes, doomed to a life on the streets. I waited until a couple of weeks before I moved out of the house to tell my mother. We took a day trip to Provincetown. I thought that was an appropriate place to come out to her. A friend advised me to tell her I was bisexual because it would “soften the blow.” I don’t know why that would be. But that’s what I did. There was a time that I thought I was bisexual, but that is no longer the case. My mom cried. For two weeks, she would wake up, have the realization wash over her, and cry. She mourned her non-existent grandchildren. I had condemned myself to a life of misery. Dad, to his credit, was nonchalant about it. The response from my extended family was a bit like they still loved me despite this news.

Over 20 years later, I started thinking about the gender spectrum and realized I fall somewhere in the middle. Again, I slowly tested the waters on coming out. A trans friend said I would make a good man. A gender fluid friend repeatedly told me I was a lesbian. Some have asked where I am on my journey and if I wanted to have surgery. Others say they can’t wrap their head around the terms “non-binary” and “they” for a singular person.

I have been happily married for almost two years to a wonderful woman. I have two beautiful stepdaughters that I wish my mother could have been a grandmother to. It isn’t a life of misery. But I am still coming out in each new situation.

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