The LGBT Magazine [March 2012]

Coming Out in Real Life.

Hi, this is Laurie again.

So lately I've had a few people talk to me over the chat thing here on wattpad, asking me advise on how to come out. And well I'm straight, so as much as i'll try my best to help them. The amount of advise based on my own personal experience, is - to say the least - a tad limited. However, I do know that a lot of stories on here blow the whole 'coming out' scenario way out of proportion, and many go a bit like this;  

"Dad, i'm gay"

"What?!"

 "I Like Dic..." 

"GET OUT!"  

And while this can make an entertaining story, for those of you who are thinking about coming out, then these stories can be a bit scary. So I've asked a few people to give their real life coming out story, to give you guys and gals an insight of what its really like to come out.   

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My Coming out Story, By sallyscissor.

In almost every LBGT story we read, there is a point where at least one of the main characters has to come out of the metaphorical closet. In a lot of these stories, dare I say most, something goes terribly wrong and that particular character gets disowned in a dramatic way. Now, I know that it makes a story more interesting and advances that particular plot line, but is it giving the readers the wrong impression? Does everyone that ‘comes out’ to their family or friends have to suffer though the horror of losing those close to them?   As I can’t speak for everyone, I can tell you my ‘coming out’story and let you decide for yourself.

I’ve pretty much known since I could have my own thoughts that I was different from the other little girls around me. I felt strange when I didn’t grow out of the ‘boys have cooties’ phase. When they were giggling at the boys who would push them down on the playground, I would be giggling at them. On Valentine’s Day when they would bring little cards to all the boys, I would bring mine for my ‘best friends’. Then in middle school, when all the girls started to kiss those boys, I started noticing how amazing my ‘best friends’ smelt and how soft their skin looked.

High school is when I really started to understand that I wasn’t normal and it scared me.   Why are all these girls so attractive? Why don’t I want to date these boys that keep asking me out? Is there something wrong with me? Why can’t I just be normal like the other girls? Why can’t I start checking out the guys instead of looking at boobs?   It was hard for me to accept that I wasn’t going to be like my friends. It was even harder for me to admit to anyone that I was having these feeling. Much like the stories we read, I was terrified that everyone around me would treat me differently. After all, I grew up in Middle America –the freaking Bible belt.  

 My parents were divorced, but they both went to church along with my four sisters and two brothers. My family has always been close. My sisters and I would braid each other’s hair. My brothers looked out for all of us. I grew up in the stereo-typical All-American household; which confused me even more. Why couldn’t I be like them?   To me, it wasn’t an option to tell anyone in my family. No one had outwardly expressed distaste for homosexuality, but it was ‘sinful’ for me to be this way. Right?  

I have danced all my life - competitively and recreationally. When I would get really stressed, I would escape to the dance studio and let my feeling out through movement. One particularly tense day, I called my dance partner to meet me to practice our competition piece. I was so distracted that when he had picked me up to do I lift, I moved wrong and had us both crashing to the ground. He didn’t end up getting hurt, but my ankle twisted and I got so angry at myself that I started screaming and crying. It was like a dam broke and all my emotions tried to escape at once.