National Coming Out Day

Happy National Coming Out Day!

I came out when I was 23, not really knowing how that choice would play out for me, although I had a pretty good sense my parents would be OK.

After testing the waters with some friends first, I felt like a massive weight had been lifted from my shoulders, so I decided to join a support group called Fun and Esteem, run by ACON in Sydney back in the 1990’s. We learned about safe sex and held space for each other to tell our stories. Not long after, I met my first boyfriend and experienced my first kiss. Pretty old for that kind of stuff, huh.

After several weeks with the support group I decided it was time to tell Mum. I got home around 11pm after a meeting and she was snoozing in her armchair, having lost the battle to stay awake and make sure I got in safely.

We chatted for a bit, nothing major because you can’t really expect a sleepy 59 year old to fully spark back up so late. Maybe that’s an ageist stereotype, but I knew Mum.

My stomach churned as I made a couple of false starts, like I was about to jump off a cliff and free-fall into a deep, dark canyon. Once it was done, there was no going back.  

The next ad break started on the telly and Mum made for the loo before turning in.

More butterflies. Actually, more like bogong moths and dragonflies. Why should I have to have this vulnerable and humiliating conversation? Why should who I love and find myself attracted to matter to anyone but me and whomever I choose to be with?

The toilet flushed. The door opened and Mum made her way to the laundry to wash her hands before coming over to kiss me goodnight. As she leaned over I looked at her and said “I’ve got something to tell you.”

She stopped, mid-lean

“I’ve been meeting with a support group for the last few weeks. Um. I need to let you know… I’m gay.”

The Indian Pacific could have rolled through the pregnant pause after she said “are you?” in that sober tone, like I’d just thrown a difficult conundrum her way. Then she told me she loved me and hoped I’d still keep the company of women. I’m still not entirely sure what she meant by that, but it’s too late to ask now.

There’s much more to my coming out story. We never really stop once we start, and sometimes it’s safer to swing the closet door back in, even for a short time to know we’re safe. 

Other family members haven’t been so kind in recent years. Homophobia always makes itself known, no matter how hard those people pretend so they can be “seen to be doing the right thing.” I’d rather see that homophobia and be done with them than make nice with people who don’t respect me. But that’s another story for another time. This one was about my mum, and her unconditional love.

Not everyone is so lucky, so if someone comes out to you, please be kind. It takes real courage. A courage that most of us fail to recognise in ourselves even after the deed is done.

If you are questioning your sexuality or gender identity, you don’t have to do it alone. These services are a great place to start to get some support with your coming out journey.

Whether you’re out, almost out, not ready or an ally, thanks for being you and letting me be me.