Skeletons in the Closet

FROM THE ARCHIVES (Daily Nebraskan columns)

Skeletons in the Closet

Coming out may be scary, but living in secret is worse

Jeremy Patrick (jhaeman@hotmail.com)

April 17, 2000

"Your silence will not protect you."--Audre Lourde

I remember it with a smile now, but at the time of course, it wasn't very funny.
I had been trying all summer to tell my parents I was bisexual, but I could never find the right opportunity. Something like, "It's almost 8 o'clock, we should watch 'Seinfeld.' I'm bisexual. That Kramer guy sure is funny, huh?" Just didn't seem right.
I even started leaving Advocate magazines around the house and watching "Will & Grace" whenever possible, hoping they would get the hint. But my efforts were to no avail. I finally got an opportunity when I received a letter from the Red Cross. They have a policy that forbids men who have ever had sex with a man, or women who have ever had sex with a man who has had sex with a man, from donating blood. This letter contained a notice that I was "permanently deferred" because I had answered the pre-donation questions truthfully.
My mom asked me what the letter was about, and I knew I had my chance. I told her, with probably more of a tremor in my voice than I remember, that I was bisexual. "Well just...just don't DO that anymore!" she said, stunned. She started busying herself with chores around the living room while lecturing me about the dangers of AIDS. She was simply positive I was going to contract HIV.
My dad, however, took the news much better than I had expected. He was only worried that a future career in law or politics would be ruined if word got around. It was, I think, too late to worry about that. I had already been out for over a year at Chadron State. In fact, I was one of the few active members of the tiny Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/Transgendered student organization.
This story ends happily; my parents got used to the idea pretty quickly, and now we can talk about it without any problems.
Of course, every openly queer person has a coming-out story. I sometimes feel guilty that mine was so painless. I've heard far too many that involved a loss of friends, torment throughout high school or being kicked out of the house. Some closeted queers are only rationalizing their fears.
"My grandfather is elderly, and if I told him, he'd have a heart attack." "I can't risk losing this job." "My kids will never speak to me again." Others have very realistic fears as to what could happen if they came out.
Yet as scary and painful as coming out may be, the alternative is far worse: to live a life of lies and secrets, devoid of a love you can be proud of and share with those you care about. Not only does staying in the closet make you miserable, it makes things worse for all GLBT people. Our ability to resist oppression and discrimination is directly related to our visibility.
Every time one of us hides in the closet out of fear, we give strength to the groups who would deny us the right to marry, serve in the military, adopt children or be free from discrimination in housing and employment. Coming out doesn't require a newspaper announcement; the important thing is to be honest and resist the pressure to conform to the heterosexual norm.
As Stuart Byron said, "Every time one refrains from an act of public affection with a lover where a straight couple would not - in the park, on the movie line - one dies a little."
I remember being apprehensive about holding hands with my boyfriend in public for the first time. I felt very self-conscious and constantly thought, "Is that guy staring at us?" "Is that girl giggling?" But as time went on, it got easier. I rarely think about it anymore, just like when I was in a relationship with a woman.
Queers often speak about what it was like when they came out. Coming out, however, is a life-long process, not a one-time event. Every time you meet someone for the first time and have to introduce your partner or when someone asks if you're married or if you have kids, it's another decision on whether or not to come out.
In the past 30 years, we've seen tremendous progress in the GLBT civil rights movement. We owe these victories to the courageous individuals who were willing to risk anything by fighting for equality in the face of a hostile and often violent public.
However, full equality and acceptance will come only when every GLBT person is open and visible; when every demagogue and homophobe has to deal with a queer brother, sister, child or best friend; when no one can say they don't know any gay people.
If you're not out yet, it's time to take the first step. Do it for those who came before. Do it for those who will come after. But ultimately, do it for yourself. You'll be glad you did.

(c) 2001 Daily Nebraskan Online (www.dailyneb.com)