February 17, 2008
when did you come out?
Now, this question, as I mean it, is not about “coming out” as gay, but at what point did you face the fire to your father, your mother, brother or sister, to your best friend, to anyone where you had to present yourself in some way you knew yourself to be, but you had hidden your whole life? When did you take the road less traveled, whatever your road may have been?
comments
15 Responses to “when did you come out?”
Leave a Reply
this is a great question Rick. I feel I’ve done this many times. I think it’s getting easier. I think I’m learning to handle it more gracefully. it often feels that really we are coming out to ourselves, and that is the fear.
Deron?
Your first time?
I feel guarded talking about this. I don’t want to hurt the person / people I have had friction with. that’s why my comment was opaque.
Deron
Say no more! For me, just knowing there’s another soul who has been there is plenty.
Just last year, last January in fact, when I needed to sort out some messiness from past relationships.
Rick, I think this is an important question. My response echoes Deron’s, though; it’s not something I feel at liberty to discuss publicly (not to protect myself–I’m an open book–but others.) Let’s just say that my first experience of this was at about age 3, when I suddenly understood myself to be me. It’s been a long road.
It is a good question. That two such open people as Deron and Cindy responded as they did touches on one of many aspects of ‘coming out’, as broadly defined by Rick. Having faced the fire and spoken the truth to those who are near (and possibly, though not necessarily, dear), the act of coming out retains the power to isolate, if only by virtue of the perceived need to protect others.
Such wonderful responses, y’all. I could/would tell stories. And I would/could. Just come visit. We’ll have cigarettes on the patio (if you care for them) and hang out.
Doesn’t “coming out” often endanger those around us? If nothing more than damaging the vision they have of us that we’d rather not damage? The danger? The havoc one can wreak on another when revealing the deepest inside us.
This is something I’m working through. (I’m watching for a piece of fiction to reveal itself to me long enough for me to get it on paper.)
The impetus for my question? Our pastor last Sunday, posed the question, albeit phrased a little differently. “When were you born again?”
Now I was “born again,” first when I was 13 years old in a revival meeting, succumbing to peer pressure to be as those around me.
Pastor Scott spoke of when he was younger, when folks would ask him, “Are you born again?” His reply? “Yes.” He said inevitably the next question was, “When?” He had no answer. After several times being questioned with lack of answer, he decided he would answer, “February 14, 1979.” With that answer, most times, no further questions came.
Later in his message, he shared that the date didn’t necessarily mark the moment of his salvation, but it marked the first time he kissed another man. He knew forever after he’d been born again.
What a powerful, beautiful message. What a thrilling instance of being ‘born again’.
. . . and yes, Rick, I do believe that there is a sense in which coming out is dangerous to all concerned. It can place others in peril, and to dismiss this risk is . . . well, shallow, even if we believe those we imperil are just flat-out wrong. That’s part of what makes coming out so painful. It’s not just the (unmerited) guilt and shame, or the fear of being cast out, is it? Not in every instance.
You’ve given us so much to reflect upon, Rick. I hope the conversation continues.
In my experience it wrecks the world. For me, I think, coming out has been a last resort. When the old way of being must end. When nothing else can be done with survival as a possibility. On the other side, a new world emerges, but it’s completely different.
Rick, Sheila, that’s it exactly. You break the world at that moment and it’s not a choice that simply effects you. It effects everyone involved and the pain of it seems to last for those who had no choice in the matter. Although one could say they did, but most often, they don’t see it coming, because, if they had, the choice wouldn’t have needed to be made.
Holy shit.
Charles Bukowski:
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day
and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace
those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love
beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average
but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect
like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock
their finest art
I can’t breathe.
[...] Rick Neece: Doesn’t “coming out” often endanger those around us? If nothing more than damaging the vision they have of us that we’d rather not damage? The danger? The havoc one can wreak on another when revealing the deepest inside us. This is something I’m working through. (I’m watching for a piece of fiction to reveal itself to me long enough for me to get it on paper.) The impetus for my question? Our pastor last Sunday, posed the question, albeit phrased a little differently. “When were you born again?” Now I was “born again,” first when I was 13 years old in a revival meeting, succumbing to peer pressure to be as those around me. Pastor Scott spoke of when he was younger, when folks would ask him, “Are you born again?” His reply? “Yes.” He said inevitably the next question was, “When?” He had no answer. After several times being questioned with lack of answer, he decided he would answer, “February 14, 1979.” With that answer, most times, no further questions came. Later in his message, he shared that the date didn’t necessarily mark the moment of his salvation, but it marked the first time he kissed another man. He knew forever after he’d been born again. [...]