Monday, September 15, 2008

Step 3: Coming Out to the Family

I came out to my sister tonight.

Officially. None of this "oh of course she knows" bullshit.

I told her, and she knows, and she will always know, and life can go on.

I want to puke, but I stopped shaking finally. I never felt this way before. I got excited when I first started coming out, but this is a different feeling entirely.

My big sister, who I've always admired and looked up to, the first person in my family who I've sat down and had this conversation with.

I always assumed they all knew. As she said "It's unexpected, but not surprising," which I guess catches me off guard. I assumed they knew because I never hid it, I just never talked about it.

But now, soon enough, the whole family will know. It feels so good to have told her though, and to be talking with her about it. Now I have someone in my family, someone who I trust, someone who watched me grow up and help my hand at our father's funeral, who knows that I'm gay, and that I'm out and that I'm proud. And she respects me and she loves me for me. It feels so fucking good.

I'm telling my mother on Sunday. I have an email drafted to her, because I am not brave enough to tell her face to face. I don't really care about bravery. It's easier for me to get my thoughts out when typing. I'd stutter all over the place any other way.

Here's the email I have drafted to my mother:

Mom,

Hi, it’s Rachel. Hope you’re having a wonderful day.

I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you something for a while now. Should I tell you when we’re driving, or when we’re out to dinner, or when we’re watching a movie or swimming or any number of the things we do together. But I’m too cowardly it seems to simply tell you. So here goes nothing. Mom, I’m gay.

I never imagined “coming out” to you in an email. To be honest I never really gave coming out to you very much thought, until recently.

I really hope this isn’t a shock to you, and I don’t think it will be. You know me better than anyone knows me. You know I haven’t dated a boy since I was a sophomore in high school, or even really mentioned “liking” a boy for a long time. The fact of the matter is, I don’t like boys and I never really did. Boys have always been friends for me, and many of my best friends have been and are boys. But I’m not attracted to boys. I have always been attracted to girls, and it was only recently (later in high school) that I came to the realization that I was gay and that it was okay.

I’ve been pretty certain I was gay since I was fifteen. I came to terms with it by myself by the end of senior year. It’s not a phase, and it’s not something I take lightly. It is a part of my life, yet at the same time it isn’t. I don’t feel like I should have to come out to people. Being gay is the same as being straight. I, like many people, am attracted to women. Some people like men, some people like women. I happen to fall into the latter category. But I’m also a Christian, and a student, an American, a woman, a daughter, a friend.

I wanted very badly to tell you, to talk with you about it. It’s very lonely to think that you did something wrong or it’s your fault or you won’t be accepted by the people you love the most in the world. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t really care what other people think about me, even the people who I care most about. I value your opinion a lot, obviously, because you’re my mother. But I don’t feel like I need to justify something about myself over which I have no control. I’m gay, but that’s not who I am entirely. I’m Rachel, I’m the daughter of Stephanie and Jerry. I love my family and friends. I love to learn and laugh and live.

It’s scary when you’re young and you feel like the whole world is against you. In many ways the whole world is against the gay community, but there are many, many people who are not against us. It isn’t a matter of trust that I didn’t tell you sooner, it’s a matter of being ashamed, of feeling like I did something wrong.

But I’m not ashamed, and I’m not going to hide who I am. I am me, and I am a beautiful and wonderful person who has as much to bring to the world as a heterosexual person. I love everyone for who they are and what they contribute to the lives of others, regardless of race, gender or orientation. I expect the same courtesy from others, but I know not everyone is so optimistic about the goodness in people.

I trust that you will continue to love me as much as you have loved me for the past nineteen years.

I love you mom, and I always have and always will. You made me the strong person I have become. I can face anything, but I’d rather face things with you at my side.

I’m not looking for anything from you in telling you this about me. I simply think you deserve to know, and that I need for you to know in order that I can grow as a person and we can both move on with our lives.

I’m the same person you talked to on the phone yesterday, the same person you kissed goodnight for nineteen years, the same girl who plays the violin, the same girl who loves watching Princess Diaries with her favorite person in the world. I’m good enough for me, and it is my opinion that I am more than good enough for the world. I love myself and I’m happy with my life. I think that’s the best anyone can hope for in life.

I love you.

- Rach

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2 comments:

Heather said...

The letter to your mom = perfect.

Truly.

Good luck this weekend ;)

Rachel said...

Thanks! It'll be fine I think, weird at first but things will turn out fine. If things aren't fine, there isn't much she can do about it anyway, but she's a smart lady so things will be all right. :)