Get Out and Stay Out!

When I first realized I liked girls, I had a system as to who I told and how I told them.  First, I identified a target and judged what their probable reaction would be.  If it did not involve throwing things at me or never speaking to me again, I moved onto step two, which was engaging them in conversation.  Usually, after some small/medium talk, I would slip in a hypothetical question: is there anything I could tell you that would cause you to not like me?  The answer was normally “no” or “no…unless you’re saying you’re not going to be my friend anymore.”  I then moved on to five minutes of trying to force out the words “I’m bisexual” without cringing or curling up into a little ball.  Oh, and these conversations were exclusively held online.  Anyway, the friend was supportive, occasionally mad that I hadn’t told them sooner, and life went out until I did it again.  After a bit, it wasn’t so hard anymore, I could just throw it out there.  The only people who I swore I’d never, ever tell were my parents, who I didn’t feel like explaining myself to.  Then la-di-da, I got a girlfriend, stupid noble reasons, I came out to my parents. That’s not news.  What I wonder about is what would’ve happened had I NOT had a girlfriend, had I had a boyfriend or no one at all.  Would I have still told my parents?  How would that have changed my life?

Well, let’s start off with the fact that I’m really out.  Like, REALLY out.  I came out to my department during lunch after orientation with a high five.  I wear rainbow suspenders to church.  I actually own as “Kiss Me, I’m Bisexual!” shirt.  I write a blog out being bi, for pete’s sake!  I honestly don’t care who knows, but clearly that wasn’t always the case.  It took a lot of marching in parades, holding hands in secret at the movies, having someone force her way onto my lap and kissing me in public for me to lose my nervousness.  I had to have a lot of arguments, listen to a lot of people yell derogatory things without even realizing they were derogatory, hold back my anger in order to explain to kids that calling something “gay” or someone a “fag” was simply unacceptable because you shouldn’t insult people or call them names by implying that who they are is bad.  In order to do these things, however, I needed my parents.  I needed my dad to drive me so I could catch the shuttle to the parade.  I needed my talk things over with my mom so I could sort out my thoughts.  I needed to fight with them both.  For better or worse, my parents were (and still are) an important part of my life, and if I couldn’t deal with them, if I couldn’t be out to them, I couldn’t handle being this out.  They are my litmus test.

What I’m basically saying is that, had I not had a girlfriend, I would not have come out to my parents.  I would not have told them when I was telling everybody else, and that would’ve had an effect.  I probably would not have told my church, for fear of my parents finding out (well, minus my then youth director/now boss.  I think I would’ve told her regardless).  I can’t stay that I’d be cowed and lame about it, that I’d never tell and never get to reach the level of awesome I currently have (or the level of modesty, either), but I know it would’ve taken far longer, been far harder.  Still, the fact remains that I’m not cowed and lame.  I did have a girlfriend.  It happened, and knowing what that was like and all the things that came from it, I can say without a doubt that, if current me met past me, I’d encourage her to come out to her parents immediately.  Yes, even if she was single.  Especially if she was single.

I have friends who disagree with me on this.  They didn’t really want to tell their parents, and, if they have, they don’t really want to push the issue, not if they’re single.  Much like Tina Fey in Mean Girls, I’m a pusher, and I don’t let people just drop things, especially when they’re important to me.  I don’t care if it’s hard.  Life is hard, but you’re not supposed to drop that.  A lot of them are like past me: they don’t have someone who they’re dating, so why push the issue?  Why not let things go until you have someone who both inspires and supports you?  Why not fight the good fight when there’s someone to fight it for?

You!  You are that person who is worth fighting for!  You are a fabulous, wonderful, lovely, and yes, queer person, and that doesn’t go away.  You didn’t wake up one morning with someone in your bed and realize “oh, I must like them.”  You are queer.  You are queer when you wake up in the morning, you are queer when you go to bed.  You are queer when you sing in the shower.  You are queer when you change for the gym.  You are queer when you eat a turkey sandwich.  Your sexuality can/may be fluid, but let’s be serious, it doesn’t change THAT drastically over the course of a day.  My point is that, whether you’re single or taken, you are still queer, and if you are still queer, then it’s still worth mentioning.  It’s still worth bringing up.  Imagine if people fought for GLBT rights that way.  Only married or serious couples would fight for same-sex marriage.  Never mind that you could someday want to be in that position, it’s not who you are right now, so let’s ignore it.  That doesn’t make sense.

I’m not saying that you should come out no matter what.  If you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, please please please do not come out.  At no point do I nor will I ever advocate endangering yourself.  What I’m saying is, if you feel like being of the rainbow persuasion is important enough to talk about, then you should talk about it.  You don’t need someone else to be around to justify that.  You can date a member of the opposite sex and still be able to justify it.  At the end of the day, it’s not about anybody else, it’s about you.  You think your parents would accept the reality of your sexuality if you have a significant other to flaunt around?  Flaunt it anyway.  Push that envelope.  If you don’t want them to be complacent, don’t let them be.  That way, when you do get a partner, they will have already been pushed, perhaps even to a breaking point, and the balance will not hang on this poor person who did not ask to be invited to your family issues (if they stick around long enough, they certainly will, but that’s just impolite for a budding relationship).  Oh, and when you break up (it’s bound to happen sometimes), because you’ve already made it clear that you are who you are, you won’t have to worry about people thinking it was just a phase and you will now revert to heterosexuality (and if they do, you have grounds to call shenanigans).  This is especially important for those of us who like two or more genders, as people tend to see you based on your relationship.  If I date a woman?  I must be gay.  If I date a man?  Hooray, I’m straight again!  Nope, I was always bi, and I prove it by continuing to be bi, regardless of who I’m dating (or not dating).

This past week was Spring Break for me, a week I normally welcomed with open arms and filled suitcases.  In undergrad, it was the greatest time in the world.  I went to Mexico, to Ohio (which is admittedly not as exciting sounding, but I got to hang with two of my best friends, so word), to Atlanta, and to Savannah, and I got to spend quality time with awesome people.  Now, however, I am in grad school, and while a lot of my friends went off gallivanting in places like New York and Miami, I got to experience the wonder that is my apartment.  I caught up on sleep.  I worked out.  I went to work.  I stayed in my city.  Alone.  I hate being alone.  Still, in my aloneness, I read my queer websites.  I commented on the hotness that is Eric Dane.  I went out to a lesbian St. Patrick’s Day celebration.  I talked to my mom about Adam Lambert (her choice, even!).  I continued to function as myself, to be the same incredibly out person, even when no one was around to see.  And I will continue to be that person at work, at school, around everyone I know, even if I get a boyfriend, even if I get a girlfriend, even if I never find anyone.  Why?  Because, as L’Oreal says, I’m worth it.