coming out

Coming out was never something that I thought I would do. Growing up in a homophobic and religious household, I had decided that I was going to come out when I moved out of my parent’s home, but fate decided otherwise. At age 15 I was “forced” to come out because my mother found a hickey on my neck after hanging out with one of my “friends” lol. That was one of the best yet scariest days of my life because although it felt like a huge weight was off my shoulders, another weight was added on because I knew my home was not affirming.

Looking back, outing myself was one of the best things that I could have done. Although things were rough at first, my family eventually learned to love and accept me for myself. Through the years I have learned about my own sexuality and gender identity. Although it’s been a rollercoaster ride, it’s a ride that I love. Coming out is not something that just happens once. Not only do you come out to other people, but you also come out to yourself. Sexuality and gender is fluid and this is something that I’m still learning and accepting about myself every single day.

No matter if you are out or not, give yourself time. Your experiences are valid. You do not have to be certain of everything that you are feeling right now. As a Black, queer, and non-binary woman who first came out as a lesbian, it takes time. Give yourself grace, time, and love. Happy national coming out day!“

Yours from afar,

Khouri.

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16 October, 2020

as soon as i turned 14, i spent that entire year figuring stuff out. i knew that my mother was not going to be NOT accepting but i just didn’t know how to approach it. i had never said it out loud.

it was the summer before high school and i was like i need to come out because i’m not going to be closeted in high school, i wanna be myself.

i told my sister in march 2018 after we saw “love, simon.” i told my mother may 15, 2018.

that morning i woke up and was like “i’m gonna tell her today.” she was at work and i couldn’t wait until she got home. so i thought it was easier to tell her through text so she could read when she was alone. i remember her texting back, “i love you and are you ok?” that was because in middle school, i was teased a lot. my mother and i have always been close. she is even more protective now.

when i got the steps of the school, i told my friends that i came out to my mother and started to cry. i felt free.

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11 October, 2020

I’ve known I was gay since kindergarten, but back then, I didn’t know the language to be able to truly express how I felt, nor was the environment safe enough to do so. As time progressed, I eventually came out sophomore year of high school, but accidentally outed myself on Facebook thanks to a school project.

Fast forward to present day, as I became more comfortable with my gender expression, it lead many to question my gender identity, with most of new folks just assuming that I’m trans. They say you can have multiple coming outs, which is true, because that common misconception lead to my finally come out as gender non-conforming, and to this day I proudly go by both he & she pronouns.

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11 October, 2020

Coming out is a continual process and I’ve come out as so many things since I was 12. While each coming out story had a different reaction from my friends and family, what has remained constant are the feelings of joy, relief, and peace that I felt as I began to live my life authentically and out loud!

In coming out, I’ve lost family, supports, and even homes but I’ve gained a greater sense of self, an amazingly welcoming community of folks with similar identities, and most of all, the ability to share my story unabridged.

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11 October, 2020

“At the age of 16, I didn’t know non-binary, transgender, queer and blackness identities could co-exist with one another. At the age of 23 I am a representation of all those identities and I am proud, and liberated. Because I make my own journey, and folks choose to be apart of it or not but they can’t take what’s mine.” — Aidan, Philadelphia

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11 October, 2018

Why I Hate the Day of Silence

The day was unusual because the class was quiet. Our geology teacher, Mr. G usually spent the majority of the class pleading with us to sit down, to be respectful, to pay attention, to be present.

But not this day.

There was girl sitting at the table next to me. She and her friend were chatting quietly, working on our assignment, when she suddenly paused and looked at me. Worked some more, then looked at me again.

“It’s prom season,” she said loudly. No one really acknowledged her. Our professor glanced up and smiled weakly. Another moment passed.

“Are you going with anyone?” No one responded. She cleared her throat unnecessarily. I looked up, realizing that she had been talking to me. We’d never spoken before. She was one of those girls who trapped the space around her. Once you were in it, you didn’t exist. It was hers.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Why not? Who do you want to bring?”

I honestly hadn’t thought about prom. This school was my 6th high school and i was tired of forming short-term bonds with people. Prom was something that only served to remind me that i was always going to be an other.

“I don’t know.” I said quietly, stealing glances at Mr. G. Why wasn’t he asking us to quiet down?

“You like girls?”

It landed like fine china against concrete. My heart crashed and held mid-pump while the world listened on. Mr. G’s mouth parted, but nothing came. Silence.

“Well do you?” she asked again. My chest began to ache for oxygen and help. I wasn’t out. not to her, not to my family, not to myself. I kept looking at Mr. G.

Silence.

“I don’t know.” I said.

“It’s okay if you do. You look like you do.”

I don’t know if she was trying to be affirming. I wasn’t even mad at her afterwards.

But when I learned about the Day of Silence, what it meant and why it was, I laughed. I can’t help but be cynical.

Silence was the last thing I needed then and they want to create a day for it? I get what it represents, I do.

I’d rather have a Day of Courage though. For the students and teachers who need it.

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27 April, 2018

Isa - Jackson, MS

Q: What’s something you would tell a non-binary person in Jackson, MS?

Isa: The words of my grandmother, my father’s mother, she asked me a very challenging questioning. [laughs] at 16 that gave me an existential crisis I wasn’t ready for, however I am very very very grateful for it which was to ask me when I came out as “gay” [heavy quotes]. She looked me directly into the eyes, and she asked “are you sure or is that something someone else told YOU that you were. Like are you gay or is it that someone else or whatever the term is, told you ‘oh well based on these things, this is what you are.’ And in that moment, because even 10 years ago language was not where it is now, I was like, well shit, if I’m not gay and I’m not straight then…oh gosh, now I have an existential crisis, and now I don’t know what to do, now I’m breaking down. Reality? What? Existence?

Interviewer: What did you need to hear in that moment?

Isa: I needed to hear that question. I needed to hear that question because on some level, I knew things. However it was that like, breaking that open. Now granted her motives for asking that question, I can probably think of some things. I don’t know if she had that intention, however the question itself, the power of that question and that family for me, overall has been, ‘we love you and we want you to live your best life means like, okay, don’t claim things that aren’t yours.”

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10 October, 2017

GSU student Kai shares his story about coming out and navigating social changes.

Interviewer: So what is Kai’s story?

Kai: My story…see okay, I don’t really think I have like the traditional story, or like…

Interviewer: There’s no story that’s traditional.

Kai: I know, but like the typical, not typical, but like you know, this happens this happens this happens, bad thing, this happens, this happens. For me, coming out was like a thing that has been happening for the past two or three years. I feel like every day, I come out to someone new. But it’s the same thing if you’re queer and you feel like you have to come out to someone new everyday. Since like March, obviously, when I started testosterone and my features started changing, I haven’t had to come out to people anymore. I haven’t had to correct anyone on my pronouns or when people ask me my name and I say kind, they don’t like at me like [confused face], you know? But now, I’ve noticed the difference in how people interact with me. I was in Wal-Mart the other day, right, and I was with my sister. We were walking to the exit with our buggies, and my buggy was too close to this guy, so i was like “oh, my bad bro” and he looked at me like I was ridiculous for apologizing to him. But I know had the same thing happened while I was still presenting as female, then it would’ve been weird for me to not say sorry. It’s strange because I feel like I have to check my privilege to make sure that other people aren’t being treated differently because of their gender. Does that make sense?

I don’t know, I’m just a lot happier now that I’m actually out. I feel like I can go out, be myself and not have people ask me “why aren’t you more feminine?”, you know things like that. My grandmother actually told me that. She said “you should’ve been born a boy.

Interviewer: [laughing]

Kai: Joke’s on her. Cuz now I look just like her son. I look just like my dad. It’s crazy. He doesn’t like it. I think he’s jealous. There can only be one. I’m gonna be the one. I’m gonna out live him anyway.

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5 June, 2017

Anonymous Submission

Age: 20

Description: Black queer girl still trying to learn how to love herself.

I had just moved from New York. Left my friends behind. My community. My home. It’s like my mom ripped me out of the ground and planted me in the soil of Florida. She didn’t even care that she left bits of my roots behind.

But man, I had just turned 14. It was my first year of high school. There’s not much I can say about all of that though. New year. New school. New city.

Principal found a student to walk me to my classes. She was showing me around, trying to give me a sense of their environment and atmosphere. It was mostly her talking about what she thought of the teachers. Or about some girl’s raggedy shoes.

We were talking about which subjects we hated the most when she suddenly asked me if I was a “homosexual.” And I thought, “Wait. What did this girl say?”

I’m comfortable with myself, especially coming from New York and being open and cool with my community. But like, that question came out of nowhere. We were just literally talking about the History and Algebra.

I was too slow. Too awkward. But I’m proud. I’ve always been proud. Open. Loud mouthed. Ready. I told her, “Hell yeah.”

Her face twisted, started to look like a totally different person. The corners of her mouth pointed to the ground. Her eyes squinted like she could barely handle looking at me. I learned even before then how dirty a look can make you feel. And that’s how I felt then.

She shook her head and started hushing me. And she pulled me to the side of the hall, her fingernails gripping into my arm.

She said, “I don’t give a shit about how proud you are. Keep it to yourself. Faggots and dykes aren’t tolerated here. The school doesn’t even care when gays get beat up here. I’m telling you for your own good.”

I pushed her off of me. I wanted to get in on her for even trying me like that with her hands on me but two teachers walked by just as the bell rang. They told us to hurry, so we did. By the end of the day, I couldn’t find her. And really, by the time the last school bell rang, it wasn’t worth it anymore. I just didn’t really understand what she was saying.

To be honest I didn’t take her too serious about kids getting beat up for being gay at all anyway. I’ve just never seen that back at home. I knew gay hate. I knew some neighborhoods back where I was from can get bad. But I’ve just never personally seen it. And like, this is a school. You know?

I saw her in my classes but we never looked at each other since that day. And that’s how it was.

A month after that I made a really good friend. He was called “Strawberries.” Dead ass serious.

Strawberries was out and proud and sometimes loud in heels. That girl seemed so wrong at the time. Because Strawberries was fine. He was always laughing and smiling, and I would too when we’re hanging out. We’re just kids, you know? High school students hanging out, barely tolerating classes and the other students–just the typical shit.

But one day a group of dudes were waiting for Strawberries after school. We just finished grabbing stuff from the lockers and started to walk but the guys blocked off the hallway. They wouldn’t let Strawberries pass. Started spitting at him and shit. They rushed him so fast. Got his shoes and threw them to a distance. They started beating Strawberries down, and my silly ass forgot how big these guys were. I tried to jump in and break it up.

It all stopped before it got too bad. We were all sitting in the principal’s office, waiting for our turns. But the guys hurting Strawberries got to go together. And they left as soon as they got in. They looked at Strawberries and smirked and walked off. Then Strawberries was called in. I heard shouting. Strawberries leaves with a security guard several minutes later. I get up to get his attention but then I was called in to the office.

The principal acknowledged I was a fairly new student and apparently it made all the difference in the world. She tells me that Strawberries always gets into things like that and I shouldn’t get involved let alone associate myself with him, it will get me in trouble. And I’m like, “you know they beat him up b/c he’s gay.”

Her fucking response, I shit you not, “Do not interfere ever again, and if I find out you do, you’ll be suspended. That kind of behavior won’t be tolerated here. If he wants to pretend to be something he’s not, that’s an issue for his parents. Not you and definitely not at this school.”

It wouldn’t be until the end of the school year when the principal and I exchanged words.

Close to the end of the year, I started to become more myself. Somehow word got to my mom. She kicked me out the day she found out.

The school knew. I didn’t show up and when I did. And I shared why I wouldn’t be there. But none of the teachers or anyone from the administration seemed to care. I reached out to the principal and she said, “I hope you can continue your education. Try not to miss any more days.”

I was on my own. I didn’t know how I was supposed to get to school every single day. I had to worry about eating everyday, not getting my homework in. I had to think about how I much money I can make, not how high my scores are on a test. But I tried. I tried to do both. But I dropped out a month after that conversation with my principal and my teachers.

I won’t go too far into detail. But eventually I was able to find a home. I moved away to another part of Florida. Did my online schooling and got my GED. I haven’t seen my mom in years. But I wonder what would have happened if my teachers cared. Like what if they had spoken up? What if they cared enough to help me and Strawberries and others feel safe? What if my principal stood up against bullying? Because we had a no tolerance policy. That’s the normal school thing in schools. But that’s kind of pointless if we don’t have principals who were willing to make it happen. I don’t know, man. Life is hard but it shouldn’t have to be that hard.

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15 May, 2017