when did we stop coming out?

my plea to bring back 2015-era youtube and sharing my coming out story

Promises We Keep and Promises We Don’t

My mother is a fan of hypotheticals—the ifs of life.

And there is one that has stuck with me throughout my twenty-seven years. One that I can still hear across the dinner table, in a squeeze of my hand, in the gentle moments during car rides to the grocer:

“Even if we lived in a cardboard box and all I had to my name was a piece of Wonderbread, I’d give it to you.”

To that, since the very first time she told me that, I’d respond:

“If all we had was a piece of bread and you gave it to me, I’d cut it in half so we could share.”

At those times, I think it was a promise on both ends. A promise from me to always think of her when she was thinking of me, and a promise from her to always take care of me. But the nature of promises is ephemeral. They either lose their efficacy over time or the priority of such promises is reevaluated—even when you thought they never would.

I, too, was a fan of hypotheticals (and perhaps I still am, just in different ways).

One of those hypotheticals was the idea that my mother had been lying about sharing her Wonderbread with me. Or rather, she hadn’t been telling the honest truth. At the time, it might have been candor. But things change, much like promises do.

I spent much of my adolescence fixated on the imminent probability that I’d have to share my true identity with my family, which ultimately coincided with the fixation of hiding it from them for as long as I could—until it nearly ate me alive.

Granted, the closet door was always open a crack my entire life. I was never the most masculine child. I’d always preferred playing with “girl” toys over “boy” ones, reading was more of a comfort than sports, and most of my friends were my female classmates.¹ Regardless, I did my best.

I lived most of my life, which should have been spent enjoying childhood and discovering myself, retreating inward and only allowing the “acceptable” parts of myself to see the light.

This is, unfortunately, a common experience amongst queer people. And often, it culminates in what many deem the worst-case scenario.

If you are a paid supporter (thank you so much, by the way!), you’re about to read about my coming out story and my relationship with the YouTube coming out era.

Content Warnings: abuse, homophobia, religious trauma.