Queer

"Growing up as a Gen X queer youth in my rural hometown literally almost killed me."

I had officially come out to all of my family, all at once — and in a tux! I revelled in this space and the opportunity to be myself with them with no shame or concern for the first time in my 35 years of existence. I did try to come out to my mom when I was 30, after I had established a life for myself in Seattle. I will never forget the soft breeze on the back of my neck and the smell of sweet pine sap that clung to it as I witnessed H, shining with beauty and brilliance, exchange vows with her equally radiant wife. It was an opportunity to let go of the idea that the only way H could learn was the hard way, because that’s how I learned. The day was set and the details were sorted, but H’s dad declined to come to the wedding. After all, I didn’t have a gay uncle to reach out to when I was in her situation. To survive, I had to create and manage a persona that matched the expectations of my environment. My parents were under the impression I would be headed back to college, but my real plan was to save as much money as possible so I could leave my hometown and pursue a new life in New Orleans. I realised years later, through therapy, this was a basic survival response to my situation. With her questions, I realised I’d never “officially” come out to anyone in my family, including my father before he died a few years prior. So I was surprised to receive her message, and even more surprised to read it.