Brey Willows

Card 54, Writing Down the Bones: How have you come out?

It’s funny how coming out never really goes away, but it also becomes less important in some respects. At least, that used to be the case. With the political climate as it is, that may change.

My initial coming out was pretty tame.

A girl in one of my classes (junior year) passed me a letter. It was a lovely, three page, rambling love note about how she couldn’t get over how wonderfulperfectamazingbeautifulfunny I was, and she hoped it didn’t weird me out, but she just had to tell me. She couldn’t keep it to herself anymore.

I hadn’t even noticed her in class, to be honest.

I went home and told my mom about it. My mom is a lesbian too, so it wasn’t exactly shocking. But she still looked surprised and asked what I was going to do about it.

I said, “I think I’ll go out with her.”

And that was that.

Mom later told me she cried a couple times when I started dating girls regularly because she was worried I’d have a harder life because of it. I didn’t, though. I’ve been very, very lucky that way. As a femme with long hair, I’ve always passed, even though I’ve always dated butch women.

I told my best friend at the time when I called her for a ride and she came and got me, and saw us kissing in the car. “Are you going out?” she asked. I confirmed, and got a great big hug. “Cool!”

And that was that.

But the rainbow brigade doesn’t really ever stop coming out. We have to correct people when they ask if we’re “friends” or “sisters” or some such. “My wife,” I gently say, and then we move on. As we get older, I find there’s been far less surprise at that, and for the most part, people just roll with it.

There are other types of coming out, too. I think, for me, some of those have been more difficult. I’ve had to come out as disabled, after having to acknowledge it to myself. That one still comes with little nuggets of shame. I’ve come out as a survivor of abuse/trauma, but I made peace with that one a long time ago.

Coming out as a writer took a long time. It’s only in the last six months or so that I could say I am one. I might still duck my head a little when I say it though.

What’s your story? In what ways have you come out?