H3988: The Long And Winded Road
(Time shifted from 2 Jun)
Since I'm in a venting mood tonight, I think I'll get as good as I give.
I'm "fully" out only to a few people. Up to now, I've only told a few people on flickr who didn't already realise this. I'm out to anyone on my daily Facebook page (I have a second one for high school classmates that I visit once in a blue moon.) But in everyday life, the number who know I'm gay is small.
I never came out, officially, to my mom. She knows though; it isn't "she suspects", but she found my Playgirl magazines when I was fifteen, and basically said (at the time) that it didn't matter if I were gay or not. But we don't discuss it. My grandmother probably knows, but I've never actually told her (and given trust issues I have with her now, never will.)
I am not out to my father, any of my siblings, or anyone else on either side of my family. My decision is cultural: I've grown up with my aunts and uncles regaling everyone else with tales of "sodomites" being stoned to death in Jamaica. Even my favourite aunt, the one who lives in gay-friendly Canada -- and who made a wedding cake for the straight son of her longtime lesbian coworker, and went to that same wedding -- has spoken with derision of things that happen every June at Church and Wellesley.
I'm not the only one in my family. I have a first cousin who is nine years my junior who is also not out. She is a bright, hard-working, fairly independent woman who hangs with her other, younger, cousins. Her father (my mother's brother) is one of those who believes that sodomites practise death. Yeah.
I'm no trailblazer. I have a lot of chicken-shit genes in me, and I have no clue where they come from because almost everyone in my family is cantankerous to the point of fisticuffs at times -- male and female.
But all is not lost. I have "officially" come out to a few. The hardest so far was my best friend. My best friend is someone who I've known since junior high. We went to high school and university together, and if I truly need anything at all, I can pick up the phone. But it wasn't until November of 2008 when I came out to him, well, sorta...
I was over at his house for dinner with him and his wife. His wife, a woman I love dearly and probably just this side of Gloria Steinem, remarked that she had known me for five years and never really knew me. She's very determined: she persisted to find out why I seemed so sad and asked if I wanted to say anything. She smartly asked if her husband should leave the room. And we talked for five minutes and I came out to her first. She summoned him back into the room and I told him. I remember not actually using the words "gay", "homosexual", etc. "Chris, you know your friend Darin who you used to know, and Jason (our mutual friend who came out to me in 2003)? I'm like them." That's how I said it. He then revealed a secret of his own, one I won't reveal here -- it's nunya. My coming out probably filled in a few gaps in his mind (twice now I can recall him trying to open the closet door for me and me not walking through), and his secret filled in gaps in my mind especially relating to him and his wife.
I know by making this admission to flickr-ites that some will judge me harshly. Others will understand. Some will just be puzzled by everything. A few won't even care. But, it is what it is.
Despite my own experience, I know -- cranially -- that being out and open is more healthy for the heart and soul than not. HOWEVER, I know that life never works that cleanly. I know I probably will never come out to my father or most of my family. (Again, I know I will be looked down on for this.)
But, when I said I'd share my life with people on flickr, warts and all, I meant it.
That's about it.
H3988: The Long And Winded Road
(Time shifted from 2 Jun)
Since I'm in a venting mood tonight, I think I'll get as good as I give.
I'm "fully" out only to a few people. Up to now, I've only told a few people on flickr who didn't already realise this. I'm out to anyone on my daily Facebook page (I have a second one for high school classmates that I visit once in a blue moon.) But in everyday life, the number who know I'm gay is small.
I never came out, officially, to my mom. She knows though; it isn't "she suspects", but she found my Playgirl magazines when I was fifteen, and basically said (at the time) that it didn't matter if I were gay or not. But we don't discuss it. My grandmother probably knows, but I've never actually told her (and given trust issues I have with her now, never will.)
I am not out to my father, any of my siblings, or anyone else on either side of my family. My decision is cultural: I've grown up with my aunts and uncles regaling everyone else with tales of "sodomites" being stoned to death in Jamaica. Even my favourite aunt, the one who lives in gay-friendly Canada -- and who made a wedding cake for the straight son of her longtime lesbian coworker, and went to that same wedding -- has spoken with derision of things that happen every June at Church and Wellesley.
I'm not the only one in my family. I have a first cousin who is nine years my junior who is also not out. She is a bright, hard-working, fairly independent woman who hangs with her other, younger, cousins. Her father (my mother's brother) is one of those who believes that sodomites practise death. Yeah.
I'm no trailblazer. I have a lot of chicken-shit genes in me, and I have no clue where they come from because almost everyone in my family is cantankerous to the point of fisticuffs at times -- male and female.
But all is not lost. I have "officially" come out to a few. The hardest so far was my best friend. My best friend is someone who I've known since junior high. We went to high school and university together, and if I truly need anything at all, I can pick up the phone. But it wasn't until November of 2008 when I came out to him, well, sorta...
I was over at his house for dinner with him and his wife. His wife, a woman I love dearly and probably just this side of Gloria Steinem, remarked that she had known me for five years and never really knew me. She's very determined: she persisted to find out why I seemed so sad and asked if I wanted to say anything. She smartly asked if her husband should leave the room. And we talked for five minutes and I came out to her first. She summoned him back into the room and I told him. I remember not actually using the words "gay", "homosexual", etc. "Chris, you know your friend Darin who you used to know, and Jason (our mutual friend who came out to me in 2003)? I'm like them." That's how I said it. He then revealed a secret of his own, one I won't reveal here -- it's nunya. My coming out probably filled in a few gaps in his mind (twice now I can recall him trying to open the closet door for me and me not walking through), and his secret filled in gaps in my mind especially relating to him and his wife.
I know by making this admission to flickr-ites that some will judge me harshly. Others will understand. Some will just be puzzled by everything. A few won't even care. But, it is what it is.
Despite my own experience, I know -- cranially -- that being out and open is more healthy for the heart and soul than not. HOWEVER, I know that life never works that cleanly. I know I probably will never come out to my father or most of my family. (Again, I know I will be looked down on for this.)
But, when I said I'd share my life with people on flickr, warts and all, I meant it.
That's about it.