Article by Abigail Garner

Since this column’s debut, many of the responses have been about acknowledging family members’ involvement (or lack there of) in being out. One letter from a gay man who has been out for 15 years echoes the sentiments of numerous others. He wrote: “It’s really interesting to realize that the people who love us really do go through the same experience. On one level I’ve always understood that, but I don’t think I ever really realized that they are impacted on the same deep emotional level as we are.”

Like GLBT people, when family members do not come out, they remain in isolation. How many family members have thought themselves to be the only person with a GLBT relative? Indeed, I thought my brother and I were the only kids in the world to have a gay dad. This isolation leverages one of the most powerful weapons used against the GLBT community: shame. Coming out is the most effective way to counter the threat of shame.

Although I consider myself to be an out and proud activist, I still run into some awkward moments. I accidentally outed myself at the copy store down the street when I left a photocopy of a previous column in the self-serve machine. The workers held onto the copy for a couple days until my face returned and they saw that it matched the photograph. I was uncomfortable with the fact that my carelessness resulted in being outed in a situation I had not chosen. But I trust that in some way it had a positive effect.

I thought about those 48 hours while the photocopy was out of my hands. I contemplated my level of vulnerability to which I had been oblivious, much like the way I mentally retrace my steps when I discover midday that I’ve neglected to zip up my fly. That single piece of paper could have been tossed out and forgotten. Instead it lingered from shift to shift, awaiting my return, maybe altering a few perspectives along the way.

While reflecting on this year’s National Coming Out Day, the copy machine incident reminds me that coming out is neither one event, nor a finite process. It is a lifetime practice. Just when I think I am as out as I can be, another opportunity arises.

I remember the first National Coming Out Day in 1988. My brother, then away at college, sent me a gay and lesbian student publication from his campus. It addressed why coming out and getting involved was so necessary for the future health and well-being of the gay community. I drank in the ideas in that publication, finding them radical, yet at the same time, long overdue.

Someday October 11th won’t be about looking forward to a safer and more inclusive future. It will be a holiday when people look back and celebrate their ancestors, whose commitment in the late 20th century ultimately liberated the world from heterosexism and homophobia. How soon do you think that day will come?

Originally published in Lavender Magazine

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