THE OUTAGE

Dear friends,

Here I am at 6:48 in the morning with my cup of lightly sweetened black coffee and Dvořák softly playing in my ear. I've got bread crumbs from my whole wheat toast splattered across my face. For some reason, I can never get my legs to politely cross without causing a violent scene barging and bumping into several tables and chairs, while spilling coffee on my shirt... causing unwanted attention. It happens every single time. There are some things about being nearly 6'5 and having lengthy giraffe-like limbs that you just don't ever get used to. But as always, we will get through it together.    

Now, we have all eventually been faced with having to break those small and no good habits that we continue to act on, especially when we know exactly how they will play out. Similar to that one unnecessary and soul sucking question people continue to ask hoping it might result in some beautifully arranged love story. Or help you try and figure me out. But no. It won't.

I know you have heard the humdrum question I speak of... 

"So when did you come out?"     

*crickets chirp their routine mating call*

In my head I'm thinking "bitch, am I a baby ostrich hatching from an egg?" It's not so much the question itself that cripples me, but rather the implication that there is something wrong with the way that I identify as a homosexual individual. So much to the point that there would be a reason for me to divulge this information in order to make up for my "abnormalities". Also, WHY THE HELL DOES IT MATTER? Sorry but, my life story won't help you understand me any better if you aren't willing to put and end to treating me like I belong to some foreign species. This is not a question that straight people have to answer, so why ask us? 

To ask this question means that you legitimately think I should have to validify my existence. There is nothing as frightening as that pressure you might feel in your stomach when you're faced with having to come out. The nausea. The clammy palms you get when you aren't ready yet. Do you know how it feels? When you're forced to live your whole life being told who you are is wrong. Knowing that you may never get to comfortably be yourself. Do not be insensitive to the fact that for some, coming out resulted in homelessness or being alone. And do not EVER think that it is within your right to out someone, or discuss their sexuality with others, especially if you know nothing about this person. It isn't a coversation you get to have over chips and mango salsa with your friends. Bringing up this question is also incredibly problematic for LGBTQ teens because it holds them accountable for not yet knowing who they are. Who the hell knows who they are at 14? It's not your job to try and figure anyone out. There is enough room on this planet for all of us to dive into self discovery, individually and while taking our sweet time.  

Historically, the idea of coming out was meant to teach us to celebrate our sense of self. Hopefully you have heard of a man named Karl Heinrich Ulrichs. He was a 19th century gay rights advocate who popularized the concept of "coming out" in order to promote social awareness and encourage autonomy. He believed that to not publicly admit homosexuality would disable us from positively changing society's perception of what it means to be gay. This may be true for some of us, but honey I've been digging in my mother's make up box, wearing flamingo pink boas, sashaying away, and pooping out glitter since I was about six years old. Mr. Ulrichs attempted to help us to celebrate who we are in a way that society would not. For a lot of people, "coming out" is their first step to self acceptance and appreciation. There is something about hearing yourself admit your truth that sparks an incredible amount of confidence in you. But now we have a ridiculous amount of people being featured on the Ellen show or YouTube with a funfetti cake just to get their voices heard. THE most important person you should ever have to come out to, is yourself. So Mr. Ulrichs, although in good intentions, you screwed us all up. Sort of.

I won't bombard you with my coming out story. In fact... it's hardly a story at all. I'd consider myself to be one of the lucky ones. My struggles as a fabulous and colorful little gay boy were often experienced outside of the house. My parents never made me feel like being gay was something I had to hide in the first place. They were never afraid but often worried about my well being even more so because I was so obviously different from everyone else. They worried about how others might treat me. They saw the way I stood out from the other boys, the switch in my hips and full on Broadway performances I would put on in the mornings before school. How I was always so expressive and dove into my interest in music, fashion, and dance. While the rest of them rolled around in the mud chasing after some dirty brown ball swarming with bacteria. But this is also perhaps what they have always loved most about me. The way I went about life so charismatic and proud to be no one but myself. Of course until my first few encounters with bullying and realizing how cruel the other little shit kids could be. But my parents were always right there by my side. 

There were times when my brothers and sister would try to "out" me to my parents when they heard around school that people were calling me gay. This was usually how a long heated argument between us ended. One time in particular, I remember my mom responding to my sister with an unimpressed "so???" I was completely shocked and silently chuckled to myself, nice try sis. One night my dad said to me son, we don't care if you're gay, but don't ever be afraid to tell us. But nothing stuck with me as well as when I was fifteen sitting in the back seat of the car and the uncomfortable subject came up. I remember trying to drown out the conversation by rolling down my window to catch that bitter blowing wind in my ears. To me, anything sounded better than having "the talk." I instantly realized that I had been worried all for nothing. My dad said to me "I don't care who you love in this life, so long as you are safe, smart, and happy." Followed by him reassuring his love for me. And mom, she's just stunning. I remember when I was a little boy I would obsess over her hair and makeup routine in the mornings before work. I would always tell her "man I wish I were you." And how warm she felt when she would hold me in her lap on the days I came home after school crying to her about how the kids would call me a chubby faggot. Mom's always know what to say. Mom's know EVERYTHING. My family is my biggest support. Today, we get to have several hilarious and interesting conversations about sexuality. I tell them pretty much everything...except those minor details that are better left on hush mode. 

For those of you who were not so lucky, this one is for you. Wherever you are in life, remember what it was like when you first started. Never forget: you don't have to answer to anyone, unless you choose to. For me, it is not a question of when I came out anymore, but rather why. Why? Not because I had to. It's because I wanted to. It was so that my LGBTQ peers don't ever forget that we are a family. And although my story may be incredibly different from yours, there is something to be learned from all of us. Know that coming out is a choice we make every single day. So is loving yourself. Whether you realize it or not. Tomorrow morning, I will wake for a new day. Pour a fresh cup of black coffee. Do my little stretch, and come out again. As will you. You don't have to feel obligated to confess your sexuality. Not to our parents, to our siblings, friends, teachers, not to anyone. You have nothing to prove, and yet nothing to hide. But I do hope that you will continue to come out to yourself about more important things. Like how it feels learning something new, your latest crush, about when something really hurts, or when you have to admit your defeat. Ask more thought provoking questions. Surround yourself with like-minded people, and especially with ones who challenge you. Most importantly, wear your pink boa every single day.     

With love, 

NPR