A Coming Out Story

With National Coming Out Day on Wednesday, October 11, The Beau today shares his own coming out story. Coming out is not easy for gay Christians, and the journey is not always pleasant. But in the end, Living in Truth is more freeing than quashing your identity for the sake of others’ expectations.

In the year between when I came out to myself to when I came out to everyone, I experienced a good number of bizarre coincidences. Too many things that were all too familiar that added up, to me, to say that I had made the correct choice in Accepting who I am.

I found books by my favorite childhood author that I should have read but never did and found a very solid, very good plotline about a gay family member. I was accidentally introduced to several children’s books about gay people and was even given a book by one of my sisters that has a very clear gay theme (though I doubt they knew it). Most importantly, I was given as an assignment a poem to read. The poem is called, “How to Watch Your Brother Die.”

“When the call comes, be calm.
Say to your wife, ‘My brother is dying. I have to fly
to California.’
Try not to be shocked that he already looks like
a cadaver.
Say to the young man sitting by your brother’s side,
‘I’m his brother.’
Try not to be shocked when the young man says,
‘I’m his lover. Thanks for coming.’”

The poem continues onward in a beautiful, horrifying tale about a brother comes to grips with his gay brother after the gay man’s death. It’s by Michael Lassell and can be read in its entirety here. But as I read the words, so close to the time when I knew I would come out to everyone, I wondered, Would my family only be able to forgive themselves on my deathbed? Would they even need to? Would they wait so long to love me?

I can’t say those words were particularly helpful to me at the time, but a theme was growing in my life. Gay books that were perfect for where I was seemed to magically fly at me. I truly believe that it was God. Weeks before Christmas, I had a conversation with my mother in which she told me she just wanted me to be happy. That she wanted me to “Find Someone.” But she never used the feminine pronoun. Never a she, only a “someone” or a “they.” My heart thrilled and jumped and it was all I thought of until my Graduation came about.

“She knows and she doesn’t care!” I thought.

The night before they arrived, I went out to drinks with some friends and I was shocked to realize the Truth: I was going to tell them that weekend. There are a number of reasons I came up in defense of my decision, but all that really matters is that I was going to tell them and no matter the circumstances, my beautiful boyfriend would be there to comfort me.

That night we went to dinner and sat quietly. As dinner progressed, I brought up the Blogger a number of times and made sure to mention how I was going to New York to be with him. And how important he was to me. At the end of dinner I told them I had something to tell them so my mother asked if we ought go somewhere else. They’d experienced the brutal end of my Truth-telling before. So, sitting in their hotel room with our food still warm in a nearby tin, I told them that the reason the Blogger is so important to me. That he is my boyfriend.

My parents sat there shocked. Tears welled up in my father’s usually-empty face. My mother already hysterical. My dad shook his head, his first words to me, “It’s not okay.”

Tears were in my eyes. I had expected all this, but I had so hoped. I sat there, explaining with my fledgling words what I knew to be true, but neither of them listened. They were too hurt and too worried. They made unfair assumptions, my mother assuming I’d die early and my dad trying to make me see their reason. In the end I went home to the Blogger. I sat in his arms and he comforted me as the Father had in my parents’ hotel room.

Two nights later, my sisters sat in the same room asking, “Mom said you had something to tell us?” Feeling that some trick was about I say with no fanfare, no stuttered apology in my voice like the night before, “The Blogger is my boyfriend.” One sister is upset, furious with me. The best response the whole weekend. One sister is in tears. She reads to me 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and I can’t help but reply sardonically “You don’t really think Paul wrote that in English…do you?” They don’t get it.

The next few days were a series of injuries, guilt trips, dramatics, scriptural and spiritual attacks. But none of them matched the worst. Before my graduation, I had told them I would be introducing them to The Blogger. I reminded them how important he is to me and that I’d like them to meet him at breakfast. They arrived very late, leaving me with little time to make things less awkward. A quick introduction and I was off to line up for ceremonies, hoping they could all start getting to know each other. But they never say a word to the Blogger. Eventually they walk away from him with no nod, not a glimmer of recognition. When I find out that the Blogger isn’t sitting with them, I’m livid. I’ve had the worst graduation I can think of. At my “graduation dinner,” I’m allowed no friends, but when they learn that one of my brother’s friends was there, they regret not seeing him. They would have invited him.

Despite all this they claimed to love me, so I go to Colorado with them for Christmas. I packed everything up and drove home across the states to be with them for 3 painful weeks. My only comfort was in phone calls and books and friends, never with family. Everyone seemed so close to saying “You’ve ruined Christmas,” and actually meaning it. Before I left for New York, their love took shape as it does for all these fundamentalist Christians. Six of my family members sat down with me and all talked at me. Never listening. Claiming to “Speak the Truth in Love” when all that came from their mouths was hurt and confused words. Perhaps Love, but through Hate. There was only one relief, a sister-in-law. No one in my blood family brought comfort. When it ended, I told them that I was going to my room to cry, but was no comfort even there. They came in, trying to assuage their guilt. They knew they’d hurt me but they can’t understand it. Didn’t they do something good and noble? Isn’t that how they’re told to love? Wasn’t this the ‘right’ thing to do?

Comfort only came when I packed everything into a car I had to rent and drove the long miles from Colorado to New York. The comfort that came was awash with beauty and rest and Truth, the kind I always sought as a child.

In the car with one of my best friends, we chattered endlessly about our lives. We stopped at rest stations and I felt comfortable making gay jokes, confident that any word my family gets back they’ll already have heard. In a hotel, we laughed at our sleeping in the same bed. What would my parents think of us if they ever heard that I slept in the same bed as my best (girl) friend? The road was peaceful and warming. It was the journey I’d long wanted to take, but never had the guts to just hop in the car.

Now that I’m on this road, my family hasn’t had much of a choice but come to some sort of understanding. My parents and two of my siblings rarely mention the Blogger. But thankfully they don’t mention how disappointed they are either. They tried once, but the distance I’ve had as well as the amount of books I’ve read just pointed out each of their mistakes, mistakes that I probably made as a child. I love them and I know that they love me, we just have troubles expressing it somedays.

There have, of course, been the incredible perks of the journey. Outside of being comfortable with myself, outside of having a wonderful, amazing boyfriend, there’s a connection with a sister I never thought possible. When I speak with her on the phone I feel her warm love embrace me and I can tell she understands. She’s invited both the Blogger and I to her house. She has apologized for her treatment of him at my graduation. Somehow or other, the minister’s wife gets it better than any of the other regular fundamentalists in my family. I like to think that isn’t an accident.

Along this new journey friends have grown closer than I ever knew they could be. I’ve found an unshatterable faith that finds a place for knowledge without sternly demanding I choose not to believe certain things. I’ve intertwined with a person, something I never thought possible. I’ve seen how a person can live their life in Truth and I’m so relieved to find that it isn’t some fiction I created as a child, but something incredible and real. Most importantly, along this new, startling journey I’m on is me smiling, happy to never have to lie to anyone else again.

Permanent Link

Filed under Family-Matters
10/10/06 09:51 PM
by The Beau

Journeyman says (Oct 11, 05:55 PM ):
I shake my head in wonder at your own journey, Beau. And I take delight in the relationship you have with the Blogger. Thank you so much for sharing. You have encouraged me today.
Jo says (Oct 25, 04:24 PM ):
Thank you for sharing this. God has used this to start the work I need to do to try and repair the results of my appaling behaviour towards a Christian friend and her girlfriend when they came out.
dave says (Nov 1, 08:20 AM ):
as a fellow christian, gay, still married, i thank you for your post, has been very uplifting and with me just beginning the journey of truth will help alot..thanks beau
Turtle says (Aug 28, 07:57 AM ):
As my best friend said after she accepted my coming out:

“People just want to be loved”

As a young, lesbian Christian, I read your story Beau, with awe and amazement- for being so strong in the face of terrifying odds.

I myself have told many Christian friends- to horror, and beyond. But you would understand that.

And yet, as I sit here, 10 weeks from Graduation myself, I have not told my parents. I cannot muster that much courage.

And it is a long, lonely, painful journey.

So I just wanted to say thankyou. This is the first time I’ve told a stranger part of my story.

One hopes that perhaps, one day, just one day, I too can get out of my closet.

Much love to you both,
Turtle
JND says (Mar 24, 12:41 AM ):
Stupid fag. Just repent. Just because you have a desire, doesn’t mean it’s virtuous or that you should act on it. To think otherwise is the attitude of a spoiled child. You can still repent. Stop trying to distort the issue.

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