Coincidentally, I was preparing this post when I read this one. I used to think that coming out was a thing that happened in your early gay days and was over. Of course, I learned soon enough that some people don't have early gay days. They happen much later. Gay men all across the country still grow up and get married. They try to "be straight". Given the climate for gay people in this country, it's completely understandable. But so not me. I was standing outside the door to a gay club in downtown Buffalo with my ID proof of being 18 (before they raised the legal drinking age) almost on the very day I turned legal. It was only until many years later that I realized they probably would have looked the other way were I 16 or 17, lol. Still, I didn't so much "come out" as I kicked the closet door open with my boot. I was out, loud and proud from the get go. Come to think of it, I may be among the first of my generation to live his entire adult life as an out gay man.
Of course, as it's always said, coming out is a process. It usually happens in stages, starting with yourself, then other homosexuals like you, then close friends, and finally (hopefully) family. This can happen in months (like me) or it can take years and years. Some people still, in this day and age, are too fearful to be out both at work, or with family. I know this to be true. I've met them face to face. But I'm too militant to live a lie, even if it's a lie by omission. We'll never get the acceptance we seem to crave most by hiding.
For many years, I gravitated to gay bars or gay-friendly businesses for my employment. It's easier. If you're tending bar in a gay club or managing one, it's comforting to be surrounded by your own people. While you run the risk of ghettoizing your own life, I have to confess, I prefer the company of a roomful of gays to a roomful of straights. You kind of get the feeling you have to hide your light under a bushel, lest your fabulousness shine in their eyes and confuse them. It's stifling. And it's exhausting. Changing pronouns when you tell a story, omitting the drunken drag queen that makes the tale hilarious, editing the content as you go is just so much wasted energy. And for what? To keep from being fired? Is that a job you should be keeping? People say all the time that they won't come out to their family out of fear of rejection. I understand the fear. But for me that fear is quickly replaced by anger. If rejection is born out of a hatred of my sexuality, then you are not someone I want to be part of my life anyway. Regardless of whether or not we're related. No, I reject you.
So what sparked this train of thought, you asked?
The kids at work. On at least two occasions in the last month I've had to out myself. Both times in response to a question of whether I had a wife or girlfriend. I could have dodged the issue but why would I? I didn't say I ate butt that afternoon, I simply stated I was gay. I got a non-chalant reaction and a bit of a startled reaction. I guess I was blunt. It's 2005. You're under 30. There are cocksuckers among us. Deal. Then just last night one of the waitresses "accused" me of leering at some female swimsuit model in a magazine. It's weird. I know where some of it comes from. In a straight environment people, particularly lazy people, just make the assumption that you're straight. Understandable, I guess. Almost everyone they know probably is. What's strange for me is I don't think I'm particularly butch. Granted, I'm not the nelliest little thing that ever sashayed down 42nd street (by far!), but I just assume after spending even a little time with me, you know she's gay. And gay managers in nightclubs are almost (but not quite) as common as interior designers. And of course, some of the more astute among my staff let me know months ago that they knew, and I assume, it was cool.
So I find myself in the surprising position of having to out myself at work on occasion. After all these years. And that's not even telling you about the night I eavesdropped on a late night conversation regarding HIV.
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