so, it's national coming out day?
apparently? this is a thing. here's my deal: I don't believe in coming out. I don't believe that I should have to. I hate the idea that queerness has to be announced - and therefore that heteronormativity is assumed/default. I hate the idea that being any kind of queer is like giving someone a surprise party, where you jump up out of a darkened space and then they say, wow, I didn't expect that! I hate it. I like to say: I don't believe in coming out - I believe in being out. I'd like a system where there is no in or out, but, yeah. Obv YMMV, some gay or queer people feel really great about coming out, but I . . . don't.
And the thing I hate most is that it doesn't really matter that I don't believe in coming out. Because I'm forced to do it all the time anyway. Here's a time I was forced to come out:
male friend of a friend, talking with me at a bar: "So, why isn't your boyfriend here?"
me: "I . . . I'm not seeing anyone. And I don't date men."
Here's another time I was forced to come out:
woman leading getting-to-know-you exercise, when I first started at my old workplace: "Let's all go around the room and say our celebrity crushes! Mine is Johnny Depp."
me, when it's my turn, after listening to all my heterosexual coworkers confess their celebrity crushes with increasing anxiety: "I've been watching a lot of Six Feet Under lately, and really like Lauren Ambrose."
And another:
close (straight) family member: "I think the world's gotten so much better and more liberal! Why, even in Manitoba, everyone can feel free to be gay and out without having to worry about it."
me, knowing this not to be true: "I've never felt safe bringing my girlfriends home."
So, while the drive towards coming out has its roots in gay politics (the idea that the more we come out, the greater our numbers, the safer we could be) - and while there are a lot of good reasons to be out, and while I do believe in being out as much as possible (because where I work and live, I have that privilege - though it's worth noting that I can be legally fired for my sexuality in New York State) - I still feel tired whenever I think about the concept of coming out and all it entails. Because I have to do it all the time, we all have to do it all the time, or else make a conscious choice to not come out to the mailman or the lady at the grocery store or the hiring committee or the random prurient asshole at a party.
Because coming out is not only never finished in the sense that you have to do it over and over and over again - it's also never finished in that saying "I'm queer" or "I'm a lesbian" or "I don't date men" is not and cannot be the end of it - it is always followed by an excruciating session of having to explain (or having to refuse to explain) your sexual habits to friends, family members, and complete fucking strangers. So have you ever had sex with a man? Did you like it? Didn't you date that guy? Didn't you have a crush on David Duchovny when you were fifteen? (I did, yall). What kinds of women do you like? But you still want to have babies, right? And if it's someone I know, it becomes a project of Justify The Gayness - like every decision I've ever made, every person I've ever dated, every action I've ever taken, has to make sense in some sort of Unifying Theory of Gay. So Oh That's Why You Had Close Male Friends or Oh That's Why You Had Close Female Friends or So You Really Didn't Like That Guy You Were Dating And Were Repressed Back Then. And if it's someone I don't know, they'll often try to ask enough questions to get to the point where they can come up with that Unified Theory of Gayness.
I hate coming out. I hate that we have to do it. I hate that I have to do it even though I'd rather not. I hate that it never ends. I hate that other people use the coming-outs that I hate in order to reinforce their heterosexist and cissexist assumptions about gender and sexuality.
I wish there were a National Stop Being a Jerk to Queers Day instead. Maybe we could put the onus and the burden on straight people for a change.
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And the thing I hate most is that it doesn't really matter that I don't believe in coming out. Because I'm forced to do it all the time anyway. Here's a time I was forced to come out:
male friend of a friend, talking with me at a bar: "So, why isn't your boyfriend here?"
me: "I . . . I'm not seeing anyone. And I don't date men."
Here's another time I was forced to come out:
woman leading getting-to-know-you exercise, when I first started at my old workplace: "Let's all go around the room and say our celebrity crushes! Mine is Johnny Depp."
me, when it's my turn, after listening to all my heterosexual coworkers confess their celebrity crushes with increasing anxiety: "I've been watching a lot of Six Feet Under lately, and really like Lauren Ambrose."
And another:
close (straight) family member: "I think the world's gotten so much better and more liberal! Why, even in Manitoba, everyone can feel free to be gay and out without having to worry about it."
me, knowing this not to be true: "I've never felt safe bringing my girlfriends home."
So, while the drive towards coming out has its roots in gay politics (the idea that the more we come out, the greater our numbers, the safer we could be) - and while there are a lot of good reasons to be out, and while I do believe in being out as much as possible (because where I work and live, I have that privilege - though it's worth noting that I can be legally fired for my sexuality in New York State) - I still feel tired whenever I think about the concept of coming out and all it entails. Because I have to do it all the time, we all have to do it all the time, or else make a conscious choice to not come out to the mailman or the lady at the grocery store or the hiring committee or the random prurient asshole at a party.
Because coming out is not only never finished in the sense that you have to do it over and over and over again - it's also never finished in that saying "I'm queer" or "I'm a lesbian" or "I don't date men" is not and cannot be the end of it - it is always followed by an excruciating session of having to explain (or having to refuse to explain) your sexual habits to friends, family members, and complete fucking strangers. So have you ever had sex with a man? Did you like it? Didn't you date that guy? Didn't you have a crush on David Duchovny when you were fifteen? (I did, yall). What kinds of women do you like? But you still want to have babies, right? And if it's someone I know, it becomes a project of Justify The Gayness - like every decision I've ever made, every person I've ever dated, every action I've ever taken, has to make sense in some sort of Unifying Theory of Gay. So Oh That's Why You Had Close Male Friends or Oh That's Why You Had Close Female Friends or So You Really Didn't Like That Guy You Were Dating And Were Repressed Back Then. And if it's someone I don't know, they'll often try to ask enough questions to get to the point where they can come up with that Unified Theory of Gayness.
I hate coming out. I hate that we have to do it. I hate that I have to do it even though I'd rather not. I hate that it never ends. I hate that other people use the coming-outs that I hate in order to reinforce their heterosexist and cissexist assumptions about gender and sexuality.
I wish there were a National Stop Being a Jerk to Queers Day instead. Maybe we could put the onus and the burden on straight people for a change.
click to comment at dw || there are
comments right now