Another outing
When Heather called my work to leave the message that my Dad had arrived, she spoke to my supervisor.
"Who's calling?" the supervisor asked.
"It's Heather, her partner," she replied.
Suddenly I was out at work, and I didn't even know it yet. I don't have a problem with that, but I did feel a moment of panic when Heather told me. It's sometimes hard to tell whether caution or frankness is the best policy. This new workplace has a very young staff, for the most part, and quite a diverse one. It seems like an accepting place.
I came out (on my own, this time) to a few people yesterday, at break time. At least one of the guys I spoke to was gay himself, and it was really nice to chat to him. But it's funny how coming out is seen as a kind of one-off event. That's how I saw it several years ago when I told my close friends, my eldest brother, and, later, my mother. I didn't fully realise that it was a process that will have to continue throughout my life as I meet new people. I suppose that the very first time you tell people is so terrifying that you almost have to see it as a one-time event, otherwise you might never do it.
It's much easier now, though, than it was at first. Especially over the past few months, I feel more at ease than ever before. I feel stronger, and more certain that coming out is necessary. Every time I avoid honesty about my life, I deny Heather, and my true self, and our relationship. In some ways, too, avoidance denies the validity of all non-heterosexual relationships. Obviously, it's important to be cautious when instinct tells you so, and some people will never respond well to gay people. But sometimes the best way to avoid invisibility is simply to refuse to accept it in the only realm we can really control, the mundane, everyday reality. Being out to our families and friends, having the guts to say, "she's my partner" at the bank and the doctor and the phamacy, openly discussing wedding stationery at the card shop. All of these things are important--not so much to remind straight people that we exist, but to remind ourselves.
"Who's calling?" the supervisor asked.
"It's Heather, her partner," she replied.
Suddenly I was out at work, and I didn't even know it yet. I don't have a problem with that, but I did feel a moment of panic when Heather told me. It's sometimes hard to tell whether caution or frankness is the best policy. This new workplace has a very young staff, for the most part, and quite a diverse one. It seems like an accepting place.
I came out (on my own, this time) to a few people yesterday, at break time. At least one of the guys I spoke to was gay himself, and it was really nice to chat to him. But it's funny how coming out is seen as a kind of one-off event. That's how I saw it several years ago when I told my close friends, my eldest brother, and, later, my mother. I didn't fully realise that it was a process that will have to continue throughout my life as I meet new people. I suppose that the very first time you tell people is so terrifying that you almost have to see it as a one-time event, otherwise you might never do it.
It's much easier now, though, than it was at first. Especially over the past few months, I feel more at ease than ever before. I feel stronger, and more certain that coming out is necessary. Every time I avoid honesty about my life, I deny Heather, and my true self, and our relationship. In some ways, too, avoidance denies the validity of all non-heterosexual relationships. Obviously, it's important to be cautious when instinct tells you so, and some people will never respond well to gay people. But sometimes the best way to avoid invisibility is simply to refuse to accept it in the only realm we can really control, the mundane, everyday reality. Being out to our families and friends, having the guts to say, "she's my partner" at the bank and the doctor and the phamacy, openly discussing wedding stationery at the card shop. All of these things are important--not so much to remind straight people that we exist, but to remind ourselves.
posted by Michelle | 4:58 pm
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