National Coming Out Day
Today is October 11th, which is National Coming Out Day. While I don't really have a lot left to come out about, the little lecture about being gay we always give each other and straight folks so they can get a handle on "what it's like to be gay," is really true: you're never, ever done coming out.
No, really. You're not.
And it's not just because the culture demands this ongoing coming out process because heterosexuality is assumed, enforced and specifically rewarded over queerness in some segment of pretty much every cultural group you can name (including gay culture; trust me, we know how to do self-hating; we've sadly been taught well).
Coming out is ongoing because we live in a culture where secrets are currency, living publicly is rewarded until it's not (ever watch the Internet turn on someone?), and for most of us, confession is something we've been taught to do, whether by our church, our daytime television or our politicians.
One day, perhaps, coming out will be some weird artifact of the gay rights movement of the late-20th and early-21st century. Perhaps, instead of articles about people coming out younger and younger (junior high!) who someone dates or crushes on won't need to be prefaced.
Unfortunately, though, despite the fact that it's kinda my job to imagine stuff different form here and now, I've got no goddamn idea what that looks like, what that's going to look like. I know I wish I could say I live there, I live then, now.
But I can't.
All my friends know I'm gay. So does everyone I work with and my parents. The Internet certainly knows I'm gay. As does my cruise line.
But this isn't about who knows I'm gay. This is about who doesn't.
To my knowledge most of my other relatives do not know I'm gay. I don't communicate with them much, so if they've heard, they've heard from my parents. Every time there's a possibility I might see any of them I wait nervously for my parents to tell me not to mention my partner or something. Whether this fear is my paranoia or a reality based either in my parents' pride or concerns of potential inheritance for me, I don't yet know.
Who else doesn't know I'm gay? Most casting people. In fact, most times if you get hired to play a gay character you still have to sign an addendum to a standard contract acknowledging that you'll be playing gay and promising not to sue for any reputational or emotional distress this may cause. Seriously. I saw a note to this effect on a casting notice for a commercial within the last two months. Maybe this is why they always ask for "real lesbians" or whatever for these scenes; so we won't sue. Maybe they just don't have the nerve to face the replies they'd get if they simply asked for some women with short hair.
I'm not out to my landlord. Not that we really deal with our landlord, but this is a consideration for many gay people and is worth noting here. I remember when our place got burglarized and the cops came and had a look around. "This is the bedroom?" "Yes" "And you both live here?" "Yes." They were really great, but if you're straight, you've never had to do that math in your head.
There are also degrees of outness in my life. I waste a lot of time reassuring my parents that I'm gender normative and I downplay my affection for suits at work as "just one of those things, that lesbians do, you know."
That's the thing about being gay in a homophobic, heterosexual-privileging society. It makes you a liar. So even if you never thought you were a bad person for being queer, as a gay person you still wind up living a life where you have to question your honor all the time, and it is this institutionalized and required dishonesty that makes us suspect -- to the military, to (until recently, I believe) the covert services, to adoption agencies, to pastors, to employers, to pretty much anyone who can still say yes or no, who can still withhold approval and sanction, in some other random facet of our lives because of who we love and who we fuck.
I can't tell you how many times I've said, "being gay doesn't make me a bad person." But the fact is while that's perfectly true, being gay does make me a liar, both as an individual and as a member of a category of people that simply must, at times, lie (about something that is both really trivial and really huge and fundamental) to survive.
It's a bit fucked up.
But the really fucked up part? The part where there is no winning. Not yet, not today, because being out is a privilege not all queer people have access to, one that can never be possessed completely with any certainty for any gay person, which sorta makes the whole day a bit odd: confess your homosexuality and then confess who you haven't confessed to.
But, all that aside, National Coming Out Day still makes coming out easier for a lot of people. It's like someone warned whoever you're about to come out to that this conversation is coming. At least it's that way in your head, even if they've never heard of National Coming Out Day. Of course, I've never come out to anyone on this day, which always makes me a little sad. Truth always came for me when necessary, like lying had, not when it was political choice.
But so it goes.
Have fewer secrets.
No, really. You're not.
And it's not just because the culture demands this ongoing coming out process because heterosexuality is assumed, enforced and specifically rewarded over queerness in some segment of pretty much every cultural group you can name (including gay culture; trust me, we know how to do self-hating; we've sadly been taught well).
Coming out is ongoing because we live in a culture where secrets are currency, living publicly is rewarded until it's not (ever watch the Internet turn on someone?), and for most of us, confession is something we've been taught to do, whether by our church, our daytime television or our politicians.
One day, perhaps, coming out will be some weird artifact of the gay rights movement of the late-20th and early-21st century. Perhaps, instead of articles about people coming out younger and younger (junior high!) who someone dates or crushes on won't need to be prefaced.
Unfortunately, though, despite the fact that it's kinda my job to imagine stuff different form here and now, I've got no goddamn idea what that looks like, what that's going to look like. I know I wish I could say I live there, I live then, now.
But I can't.
All my friends know I'm gay. So does everyone I work with and my parents. The Internet certainly knows I'm gay. As does my cruise line.
But this isn't about who knows I'm gay. This is about who doesn't.
To my knowledge most of my other relatives do not know I'm gay. I don't communicate with them much, so if they've heard, they've heard from my parents. Every time there's a possibility I might see any of them I wait nervously for my parents to tell me not to mention my partner or something. Whether this fear is my paranoia or a reality based either in my parents' pride or concerns of potential inheritance for me, I don't yet know.
Who else doesn't know I'm gay? Most casting people. In fact, most times if you get hired to play a gay character you still have to sign an addendum to a standard contract acknowledging that you'll be playing gay and promising not to sue for any reputational or emotional distress this may cause. Seriously. I saw a note to this effect on a casting notice for a commercial within the last two months. Maybe this is why they always ask for "real lesbians" or whatever for these scenes; so we won't sue. Maybe they just don't have the nerve to face the replies they'd get if they simply asked for some women with short hair.
I'm not out to my landlord. Not that we really deal with our landlord, but this is a consideration for many gay people and is worth noting here. I remember when our place got burglarized and the cops came and had a look around. "This is the bedroom?" "Yes" "And you both live here?" "Yes." They were really great, but if you're straight, you've never had to do that math in your head.
There are also degrees of outness in my life. I waste a lot of time reassuring my parents that I'm gender normative and I downplay my affection for suits at work as "just one of those things, that lesbians do, you know."
That's the thing about being gay in a homophobic, heterosexual-privileging society. It makes you a liar. So even if you never thought you were a bad person for being queer, as a gay person you still wind up living a life where you have to question your honor all the time, and it is this institutionalized and required dishonesty that makes us suspect -- to the military, to (until recently, I believe) the covert services, to adoption agencies, to pastors, to employers, to pretty much anyone who can still say yes or no, who can still withhold approval and sanction, in some other random facet of our lives because of who we love and who we fuck.
I can't tell you how many times I've said, "being gay doesn't make me a bad person." But the fact is while that's perfectly true, being gay does make me a liar, both as an individual and as a member of a category of people that simply must, at times, lie (about something that is both really trivial and really huge and fundamental) to survive.
It's a bit fucked up.
But the really fucked up part? The part where there is no winning. Not yet, not today, because being out is a privilege not all queer people have access to, one that can never be possessed completely with any certainty for any gay person, which sorta makes the whole day a bit odd: confess your homosexuality and then confess who you haven't confessed to.
But, all that aside, National Coming Out Day still makes coming out easier for a lot of people. It's like someone warned whoever you're about to come out to that this conversation is coming. At least it's that way in your head, even if they've never heard of National Coming Out Day. Of course, I've never come out to anyone on this day, which always makes me a little sad. Truth always came for me when necessary, like lying had, not when it was political choice.
But so it goes.
Have fewer secrets.