Hey guys,
It’s Pride weekend in a lot of cities around the world, so I thought it would be cool if we shared our coming out stories. Coming out is perhaps the singular most powerful thing a gay man or woman can do because we stop hiding in the shadows and proclaim who we are. June 28 is the day many cities chose for Pride because it corresponds with New York City’s Stonewall riots on June 28, 1969. That’s when gay and lesbian men got tired of the police raiding their bars and decided they weren’t going to take it any more.
So … share your story and Happy Pride.
Michael
Re: Show Us Your Pride …
As I often do, got it totally wrong and made it into this huge thing in my head. I thought the only way to “become” gay was to move to London, away from Sweden… there was no one who knew me, no family etc.
Which I did, at 19yo I moved to the UK and London. I started going out on the scene… Sleeping with more or less anything that moved… Then finally got my currage up and called my Mum and told her that I was gay.
Her reply was, “dear, I know”.
Mum and Dad already knew and so did my brothers. Not only that but they sort of had known for years but didnt want to push me or force to tell them unless I wanted to.
So in the end, it wasnt a huge deal at all. My family knew and it made no difference to them.
Re: Show Us Your Pride …
I didn’t actually come out, I was outted. In the summer of 1981 I was 18 years old and still living in a small town an hour east of Toronto. I had heard rumours that there was a gay guy living uptown, so I always kept my eyes peeled when I headed into town to get the mail or milk. One day I ran into a buddy of mine from high school and, to make a long story short, she was hanging out at the gay guy’s apartment and waiting for him to get home from work. I was heading off to university in a couple of weeks, so I guess I was getting brave, and I suggested we hang out together; and then, inside this gay guy’s apartment, I told these two girls that I wouldn’t mind if they left us alone when he got home. They were shocked because now they knew two gay guys in this small town.
So that’s how it began. When Barry got home from work, the girls introduced us, and left giggling and teasing us. Poor Barry didn’t know what hit him. We had sex and became boyfriends. Little did I know at the time, but one of those two girls had been spreading the word from that very night. She had been Barry’s girlfriend and still hadn’t gotten over their break-up, so she thought it would be fun to tell the entire town that I was gay. Then some well-meaning soul thought it’d be nice to ask my Dad how he felt about having a queer son. So a couple of weeks later, as my parents drove me off to university they knew that I was gay. They chose not to say anything hoping that with me in Toronto it would all blow over.
I was sneaking back into town on weekends to see Barry, but I wasn’t visiting my parents. Word of my sightings would get back to them, and eventually by Thanksgiving (early October in Canada) I was hauled home for the big talk. My Dad asked me if it was true. I wanted to make him say it, so I said, “Is what true?” And when I confirmed that it was, I was officially thrown out of the house and told never to return. My father had to protect his family.
I picked up a few things from my room that I still wanted (most of it had already been moved) and left. And that was my beginning. From then on, I was never in the closet ever again. It took a long time, but my parents eventually came around.
Happy Pride
Michael