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| PRIDE! |
| The statement, "coming out as queer is difficult" is a huge understatement. It's been almost a year since I came out to most of my friends, and eight months since my parents outed me; and there are days when it still feels like an uphill battle--not only with outsiders, but with myself, as well. There are a lot of queer people who will say, "I've always known I was queer." I'm not one of them. I suppose if I were to think long and hard and really give myself a lot of credit, I could say that somehow, in some weird way, I've always had a hint that this side of me existed. But to be honest, up until my freshman year at York University, I had no real idea that I could be queer. Looking back at my days as a Drama Major at Cawthra Park, the thought that I might have been attracted to girls had crossed my mind from time to time, but the idea of being physical with a female made me so uncomfortable, that I would dismiss the notion quickly. It wasn't until last year that I realized I was suffering from internalized homophobia--I could handle *other* people being queer, but deep down, I convinced myself that for me to be "that way" was wrong; it was something that I had to repress, to forget about. After I graduated high school and moved away from my family, my old friends, and essentially, my old life, I discovered the freedom to be who I wanted. No one at university knew who I had been before, and thus, no one had any pre-conceived notions about who they thought I was. Don't get me wrong...it's not as though the second I said goodbye to my family and friends, I turned around and shouted to the world that I was queer :) As a matter of fact, it took me 5 months of agonizing inner turmoil--a constant battle between who I *thought* I was versus who I *really* was--until I was finally able to say it out loud. It was like having your entire sense of self be destroyed, and having to rebuild from nothing. In high school, I had always been the type of person who knew exactly what they wanted out of life and went for it, no questions asked. I never worried about peer pressure, because I had an excellent idea of who I was, and where I was going. I was in no position to allow that to be compromised. In the most basic terms, I discovered I was queer when I fell in love with a girl, who has turned out to be my best friend. Realizing and accepting that knowledge as truth was hard enough...but having to deal with feeling as though I didn't know who I was anymore, was absolute torture. I felt as though someone had stolen all my confidence, all my sense of control within my life. I had been so sure of what I wanted, and now I found myself without the first clue as to where I was going. Without that assurance, I felt more vulnerable than ever before. Luckily for me, I had a strong group of friends to turn to...a few of which had already come out years ago. I also consider myself fortunate to live in the age of computers and the internet. I found countless resources available online...all of them ready and willing to answer as many of my questions as they could. I had made a conscious decision *not* to come out to my parents. We were never a strict religious family growing up, but I knew that when it came to the issue of homosexuality, my parents were firm believers that it was a sin against God and nature. The whole idea of being queer was still fresh and new to me, and I didn't want to face them and all of *their* questions until I had had the opportunity to have a few of *mine* answered. Unfortunately, I didn't get to enjoy much of an adjustment period. In July, my mom confronted me; she told me she had found and read my journal and knew everything. I was in shock--I couldn't believe she had invaded my most personal and private things like that. She told me she had already made an appointment for me with a Christian counsellor, and that she wanted me to drop out of York, move back home and go to community college. I refused, and my parents cut me off from all financial support. They told me that as long as I continued to identify as queer, that I would have to support myself. A few days later, I moved out of their house and into summer residence at York. I've lived here ever since. Since then, I *have* been going for counselling (with a York counsellor). Even though I knew they would take the news badly, I never expected to feel so abandoned and alone. Over the last few months, things have gotten much better. My mom has stopped mailing me Christian literature (with titles such as, "What would Jesus say to Ellen?"), and stopped sending me letters detailing how much I've hurt her and my dad, and how I've torn our family apart. They still haven't accepted me as a queer--in fact, it's more of a 'don't ask, don't tell' situation right now--but at least I get to feel as though I still have a family. I know it's not perfect, or even ideal, but...it's *something.* And, that counts for a lot. Every time I go to a queer event or read about some Pride-related thing, I get this overwhelming surge of happiness. This is *my* community; these people are part of *my* world, and I'm part of theirs. I'm happy to be on honest terms with myself and those close to me. I'm relieved I don't have to feel like I'm carrying a huge burden. Most of all, though, I'm proud to be out. :) |