Do You Want to Know a Secret?



I fell in love for the first time at the age of 16.  I was a senior in high school, and I was mildly thrilled at the aspect of meeting someone who was wonderful enough to get me to care so much.  She was fantastic; she was smart, funny, had very nice eyes and I couldn’t get her out of my mind.  It was the greatest thing I had ever felt, the rush of blood to the head every time she walked into the room, the warmth in my chest whenever we were talking, the undeniable smile that washed over my face whenever she gave me a hug.  It was also a time of complete and total agony.  As per usual (even today, actually), she was seeing someone-a boy-and she seemed quite content with him.  He was a mutual friend, and I actually liked him a lot, but every time I saw her sit on his lap or hold his hand, my eyes narrowed and I had to remove the dagger from my heart.  The worst part was that there was nothing I could do about it.  It didn’t matter that I was nicer or that I was clearly trying harder than he was, she was his and I wasn’t even a consideration.  That was a pretty lonely time.  I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have known how to talk about it.  I simply didn’t know what language to use.  I knew what a lesbian was, what a bisexual was, but I didn’t like girls (yet), I liked one girl, so what did that mean?  I didn’t know what to do, therefore I didn’t say anything to years later.  It also took me several years to realize that, had I had someone to talk to, things may have worked out very differently.

It is for reasons like this that it’s important to realize just how important it is to be a good listener, especially when it comes to things regarding sexuality and sexual orientation.  Imagine if that poor kid had had someone to share her feelings with.  If she hadn’t had to pretend as if nothing was different, perhaps she would’ve been a little less resentful about the whole situation.  If someone had explained that what I was feeling was completely normal, that it was possible that I did indeed love one girl, but that it wouldn’t be wrong to explore whether or not I liked more, maybe I would’ve come out sooner.  Maybe the whole thing wouldn’t have been so scary.  Maybe I could’ve just talked about it.

Usually, when we talk about this kind of listening, we’re talking about coming out stories.  For those who have been blessed enough to have someone come out to you (and it is a blessing to be that trustworthy), it’s known that these stories can be filled with emotion, pain, anger, frustration.  They can also be filled with joy, happiness, elation.  They are sometimes told in secret.  They are usually filled with relief.  Finally, there doesn’t have to be this aura of shame or discomfort around this part of themselves.  Finally, someone knows the truth and (hopefully) loves them even more for it.  There is at least one person on your side, and you feel fine.

“I think I might be…”  Those are the five words that have begun most of the coming out stories I’ve heard.  There’s a sense of uncertainty.  I’m not sure if I want to label myself yet, but I know I’m not like everybody else.  I know who I am, but using the real words is just too difficult right now.  I have no idea who I am, but I do know that that person is not straight.  How does one wrap their lips around those words.  They’re easy words, right?  Not too many syllables?  Gggg-g-g-a, I mean le-le-le-le-lesbia, no, wait, bi-se-se-sex-who the hell thought it was a good idea to put the word “sex” in the middle of that word, anyway?  Maybe I can just be queer. That’s broad, right?  It’s also an insult half the time.  On rare occasion, “I think I might be…” actually means “I know I am…” and it was just easier to phrase it that way as it’s non-committal.  Some people even have the guts to just say “I know I am…”  Those are special people, indeed.  No matter how they say it, however, that person has just started the engine to a vehicle that will never stop moving, not until they die.

Unlike the person coming out, you (as the listener) are on a journey that starts at the precise moment of hearing those words.  Chances are, regardless of whether they were admitting it to themselves or not, that person knew they were of the rainbow persuasion before you did.  This gives them that much of an advantage over you in terms of being prepared.  They had to think about this a little.  Hell, they may have even thought about telling you (keeping in mind that, sometimes, it just slips out, completely unplanned).  They might not know what comes next, but they’ve certainly thought about it.  You, on the other hand, probably have not.  What do you say next?  What do you do?  How do you know what’s right and wrong?  Well, here’s a bit of a suggestion:

Now You Know: The Pink, Purple, and Blues Guide to Having Someone Come Out to You

Stage 1: Initial Reaction

This is quite possibly the most important part of the interaction after hearing someone actually come out.  If you could pause the moment, you might notice a particular look in the person’s eyes.  That is a searching for validation.  For goodness sake, please give it to that person.  “That’s great!”  “Cool, thanks for telling me,” and “It’s cool with me,” are all good initial reactions.  Think about how hard this must be for them.  If you’ve got their back, let them know.  If you aren’t sure how you feel about it, but you know you still love that person, tell them.  Let them know that you were a good choice in person to come out to.

Stage 2: Inquiry

Chances are, you have some questions, namely “how do you know?” or “how long have you known?”  You’re allowed to have questions.  You’re even allowed to ask them.  Sometimes, the person will know the answers right off the bat, other times, maybe not.  Go with the flow and remember that not every question even has an answer.  Also, consider the type of questions you want to ask and make sure they’re appropriate.  As curious as you may be, things like “so, how do lesbians even HAVE sex?” or “does this mean you actually want to be a woman now?” aren’t appropriate (unless the person is coming out as a MTF transperson, which, in that case, the second question is fair).  Be tactful, be nice, but most of all, be caring.  If people were always caring towards others, think of how great the world would be.

Stage 3: Proof of Trust

Okay, so you’ve let the person know that you think gay is great and you now know that they’ve suspected that he may have been a friend of Dorothy since the 5th grade school play when he noticed just how rosy Jeremy the Lead’s cheeks were.  Now comes your chance to prove that you were worthy of telling in the first place.  This stage can last a really long time and involve many different parts.  They asked you not to tell anyone else?  Don’t.  Seriously, don’t.  Even if you know somebody and think it would be cool to set them up.  They get to choose who knows and who doesn’t.  If you want to tell, ask permission and be prepared to drop it if they say no.  If they need your support, give it to them.  This could mean listening.  This could be standing up for them when they can’t stand up for themselves.  If you’re unsure how to do this without outing them, just stand up for ideas.  If someone insults gay people, say that it’s wrong because it’s wrong to insult a whole group of people (especially since, well, it IS).  Stand up for equality for all.  This could also mean they need advice.  That, in my humble opinion, is the scariest part.  You want to be a good friend, you want to give helpful advice, but maybe you aren’t sure about things.  Maybe you’re in over your head.  Don’t be afraid to admit that, both to yourself and to them.  Do seek out resources.  Check the HRC website (www.hrc.org in case you’re unfamiliar).  See if there are any resource centers in your area.  Stand by your friend and be a good friend.  Which leads to…

Stage 4: Acceptance and Moving On

Your friend came out.  You told her it was awesome and thanked her for trusting you.  You asked her if her love of Tegan and Sara had anything to do with it (it was a coincidence).  You called out someone at lunch for saying “that’s so gay!” and you downloaded a guide for coming out to one’s family and gave it to her.  Now what?  Well, remember that friend you had before all of this happened?  Yeah, still there.  Still the exact same person.  Well, you might say, not the EXACT same person.  No, the exact same.  There is no difference between the person you didn’t know was queer and the person who is.  It’s not the end all be all of their personality.  You can enjoy the exact same things you two enjoyed before, you can have the same hobbies.  You can have sleepovers if you were allowed to before.  Coming out is important, but it doesn’t change your DNA.  You can act like you always did.  You can talk about something else.  It’s all good.

Normally, at this point in an entry, I would give you some stellar examples of how I’ve handled various people coming out to me.  I’d give you lots of minute details and really try to draw you into the moments being recreated.  Honestly, I’d pull out all the stops and try to paint myself as some kind of hero.  I do, however, have a memory lasting of more than sixty seconds, which means that I haven’t forgotten anything I wrote in the section above.  In other words, I can’t tell these stories, not in detail, anyway.  That, of course, would be a violation of trust, and I am not in the business of outing anyone.  Also, as much as I’d like to say that I was the best friend in the world to those who have come out to me, I wasn’t always.  In high school, many of the boys I had crushes on came out to me, and while I did understand that this was a precious secret, I felt it my duty to inform the next girl in line that she was wasting her time.  As I got older, though, I got a bit better.  A friend of mine came out to me before he went to college, and his fears not only kept me quiet about his secrets, but also convinced me to join my school’s Gay-Straight Alliance (so as to help others besides him), which ultimately led to my own self-realization.  I had one girl come out to me as a way of coming on to me,  but I didn’t notice.  A dear friend, the one who I had fallen in love with years before, told me at a bar that she might not be straight, which caused me to nearly fall off my stool.  I’ve caught a knowing glance from a person, and that’s all they needed to say.  I’ve never seen someone have a mental breakdown over it.  I hope that I never do, not because I don’t want to be there for someone who does, but rather because I wish that every person that has to come out be able to do so with grace and dignity, knowing they are loved.  If nothing else, I hope that I convey that one message; you are loved.

I’m not a 16 year old girl anymore.  I don’t steal glances at friends.  I don’t pretend that I’m feeling something different than I am out of fear of naming what I feel.  I’ve known for some time what language I should be using, and, other than some of my relatives, I don’t give a damn who knows who I like.  Still, I wonder what life would’ve been like had I had someone to talk to about this, to guide me through.  When I worked as a camp leader, some of the other leaders and I attempted to guess which kids would ultimately be queer.  “The Rainbow Delegation” we called them.  It was meant as a bit of a joke, but I often thought about what if one of them, or any of the kids I work with, did come out to me.  What would I say?  Would I be supportive enough?  Would I be able to answer their questions and give them good advice?  Could I be that person that younger me was missing?  In the end, no matter how nervous I get thinking about this, I know that the answer is always yes.  By showing love, by knowing that we are human and may not have all the answers, by remembering that this is both a very big and very small deal, we all can be there for someone on the fateful day that they decide to let us in on that particular secret.  All we have to do is listen.