CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AND RAPE.
Before I share my ripples and waves that have crashed on and around my coming out, I want to thank those who wrote before me. I am older than many of you, but your journeys inspire me to share a few from my own journey. I had set aside things I struggled with on shelves hoping one day to take them out and shine a light of a different day on them.
First Ripple…Start of my Wave…
My father and I had sat down on the couch to watch TV. The news had been on and there were images from the war raging in a foreign land. I asked him why we were fighting in Vietnam. His expression changed to one of sadness and he looked off into the distance. After a moment he said, “There are some bad people doing bad things to good people over there. We are there to stop the bad people.” He got up and change the channel came back and sat down. He smiled at me and he was my Dad again. A commercial came on the TV for a movie called 1 Million BC staring Raquel Welch. In this ad, she stepped up in a fur bikini and I was stunned, Wow. She was so beautiful! Something clicked in my five-year-old brain and I turned my head to look at my father. He had the same expression as me. Oh, I thought. I’m just like my dad. That was followed up by but ‘I don’t think girls are supposed to be like their dads.’ No, but I was like my dad. I reviewed the evidence. I loved watching Sally Fields in the Flying Nun, Bat Girl, Cat Woman and other women on TV. Okay… I’m like my father and I shelved it to investigate another time.
Dark Tsunami… Cut adrift in a Sea of Darkness
My parents split when I was seven and my mother and I relocated to northern California. Something should be said about this since it had a huge impact on my life. Between my two parents, I saw nine marriages twice to each other. I am my mother’s oldest child and my father’s baby girl; he had three girls in a row then three boys in a row. My mother’s youngest, my baby sister, rounded out the ensemble. (It’s okay; I have trouble with it, too) My childhood to this point was filed with family. When we left, I was in a foreign land… new place, new school and no family. My mother was pregnant with my youngest sister and would be strong at not tell her. I was molested by my stepfather and raped at different times by two men from the age of seven to twelve. I nearly suffocated during two of those incidents; I blacked out. This left me with sporadic claustrophobia. Those were parts of my normal childhood… yes normal. This little tomboy ran around with her friends, played soccer, football and baseball but also had few things on her shelves that she kept tucked away. She was strong, smart, empathetic and could keep a secret. Her friends and family adored her, but her secrets stayed on the shelves; she didn’t trust anyone.
Ripple… Oh, That’s What it’s Called
My early teen years had me staring straight in the face of being attracted to girls and a boy. A family friend who is a year younger than me told me she had a crush on me and kissed me. It felt like something that had been dead inside me was finally awake and I kissed her back. She and her family moved away the next week (better job not because of us). I thought about the items sitting on my hidden shelves. I took the memory of the five-year-old off the shelf. There was a TV show called “Family” that had an episode about the son’s best friend being gay. And as I watched it, I thought, oh, that’s what it’s called. I was Gay. I had a name for it, but it was still too afraid to talk about it. What if I should have been born a boy? Did God make a mistake? What about the boy I like? Those go on the shelves; the five-year-old is good.
Rainbow Wave Crashes Lovingly on My Shore…
In my sophomore year at high school during volleyball tryouts, I met the most stuck up, annoying but pretty girl ever. She had a click of friends and was trying out for the cheerleader squad. She thought I was a stuck up, elite athlete who was really funny at times, but she hadn’t forgiven me for hitting a home run off of her when we were freshmen. One day at volleyball practice, she surprised me. She asked me if I wanted to go with her to a party at one of her friend’s house. Curious, I accepted and from that point on we were inseparable. We did homework, read books, listened to music and somewhere in there, I realized I had fallen in love with her. There was no way I was going to do anything about it. She was Catholic and straight. So, we had sleepovers at each other’s houses and always slept next to each other. It made me crazy. We were staying over at my house in sleeping bags under the pool table. everyone else in the house was asleep and we were talking quietly. We were both on our tummies and elbows. We turned our heads towards each other as we were talking; our eyes locked, and we leaned in and kissed. Wow, what a kiss! She abruptly pulled away mumbling, “I can’t, I can’t do this, I can’t…” and got up and went into the bathroom. Shit, I thought, my life is f—-ing over. She’s going to tell people at school… crap… that line of thinking went on for what felt like six years but was actually about a minute. She came back in, crawled into the sleeping bag and while she was saying, “I don’t know, I don’t know…” she kissed me. And for me, game over. I was home. This was who I was. I was head over heels in love with and she with me. Wait. No one can know. My parents would be okay about but her parents, her mother would not. Fine. The love of my life goes on the shelf.
Ripple… You could’ve told me
We were together all through high school and off and on during college. She was an avid note, letter and poem writer; I had notes and letters squirreled away in my backpack till I could safely deposit them in a box down in our basement. My best friend from sixth grade and I were walking home from work one night. We were seniors and it was towards the end of the school year. She punched me hard in the arm and handed me a note with my name on it. I am pretty sure I turned pale. She had snagged it out of someone’s hand before they could read it; they had pulled it from my catcher’s mitt. Bam, another smack on the arm, “You could’ve told me.”
“Ow!” Sheepishly, I asked, “did you read it?”
“No. Didn’t have to. I have eyes and know you… I’ve always known… you’re my best friend and I love ya.” I felt lucky for her friendship but scared for being careless. My girlfriend and I were both certain that her parents found out about the two of us that would be the end of it. On top of that, they had put money away for her college and she was born to be a nurse. I didn’t want her to lose that because of me. No matter how much I loved her. Squirrel it away on the shelves.
Ripple… My heart was breaking, and I couldn’t tell her…
Being in love was beautiful and magical. Discovering sex with her was amazing except for those moments when unwanted memories would slide off the shelf and into our lovemaking. I would wake with a start or worse, shove her off of me not knowing where I was. I fought it to the point I could no longer feel her. My heart was breaking, and I couldn’t tell her. Get that shit back on the shelves!
Ripple… Wait, you outed me? Dude. Not cool.
My softball team was celebrating after a big win. I was enjoying an adult for fuzzy beverage with our shortstop out in the backyard. The discussion inside the house was a heated discussion about Sports, lesbians and who was gay on the team. Apparently, my name was added to the list. The shortstop and I came back in and heard our coach say, “She can’t be gay, she’s too pretty.”
Hell, one of our pitchers was drop-dead, model gorgeous and gay. I commented then asked, “That’s ridiculous. Whose too pretty to be gay?”
The room went silent and everyone was staring. The assistant coach said, “Uh, that would be you.”
“What—I’m pretty?” That can’t be right. I’m a tomboy, I’m like my dad. I have a Scarlet L on my forehead. How could I possibly be pretty? “Wait, you outed me? Dude. Not cool.” Great. Is there room to put that one on the shelves? Of course…
Rainbow Wave Ripples to My Shore…. WTF! Outed by my grandmother.
While in college and living with my brothers and dad, I thought it was time to share with my brothers and come out to them. I sat them down and shared that I dated women and I was gay. They stopped me and said, “Oh, we already know; Mimi (code for our dad’s mother) had already told us. She said you were different from most other girls because you liked girls. This was okay because we love you and you are our family and there is nothing wrong with it.”
What?! How did she know? Wow, though, I was moved by the words. Very progressive for someone from her era and the south. I asked her once and she just smiled at me. She said I wasn’t the only gay person in the family and left it at that. Something needs to come off the bloody shelves, but I don’t know what.
Ripple… Finally, I come out to my mother…
Summer break after my first senior year in college, my girlfriend and I were visiting my mother and her new family. We were going to watch a movie together. A few days later I was back over visiting. My mother asked me, “So, are you ever going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Me the clueless one asked.
“You and Mary?”
Oh. “I thought you knew.”
“I have suspected but the other night you took a hold of Mary’s hand and watched the movie holding it.”
Slightly embarrassed, I said, “Oh. I didn’t realize.” paused, “Mom, I’m Gay.”
“Thanks Honey. It’s nice to hear you say it.”
Ripple… Doodling Nancy Wilson of Heart
A year or so after college my girlfriend and I went to visit my parents. They had moved back in together and were engaged to get married; remarried. My mother and I were talking in the kitchen and the conversation went like this:
My mother said shaking her head, “Your dad wants to know when you’re going to get married. I told him the closest thing he’s going to get to a son-in-law from you is Mary.”
“And?”
She answered imitating him, “Aw, not my little girl. She spends a lot of time with Tony…”
Mom as herself, “Honey, they are just friends. Do you know your mother told the boys?”
“What?”
“Our daughter is a lesbian… just like your favorite cousin.”
“She told you?”
“Yes… Honey, she’s happy. Go talk to her.”
“Okay.”
———-
“Hey Dad.” I was doodling Nancy Wilson of Heart in a sketch book.
“Hey, Baby girl, uh, I was wondering if we could talk.”
I closed the sketchbook and waited. Only God knew what this would be about. “Sure.”
“Um, I don’t know how to… what I mean is…”
“Dad, is this about me being Gay?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Okay, I am.”
He sat quietly. I could see something was troubling him.
“Dad?”
He swallowed then asked, “Is it because… because you were… hurt when you were small?”
A bunch of things started slide off the shelves, but I put them back; the five-year-old was sitting next to me. “No, Dad. I’ve known since I was five. That all happened later.”
“How could you know at five?”
“I knew I liked girls like my Dad and that was different than other girls.”
There are so many other things to share but I will stop here and say coming out, dealing with gender identity versus what’s expected culturally, and everything else that life tosses our way is an on-going process, so be in it for the long haul.
I have come to understand a few things in my travels. It is important to have a sense of humor around things and not take ourselves too seriously. Our brains are wonderful things, but their job is to keep us safe; to ensure our survival. It can’t differentiate between real (encountering a bear in the woods) life threatening fear and emotional fear. It treats them the same. There can be so many things thrown at us when we are young and trying to figure who we are and how we fit in. I kept many things tightly bottled-up inside; I was strong and could take it. I wouldn’t burden anyone. I kept up my happy-go-lucky exterior until something happened and it crushed me and cracked my psyche. I was diagnosed with PTSD and the things I tried to suppress seeped into my everyday life. Flashbacks at work; at home in the bedroom. The pain was too much. I couldn’t live with it and it took the intervention of some friends for me to seek help. I got help that made my PTSD manageable. I am happy and comfortable with who I am. If you are struggling at all, check the resources listed at this site. Have faith in yourself… I don’t say this lightly; I say it with a tremendous amount of love and gratitude.
. Finally, I could start being me, whatever that meant.