My Coming Out Story

This is a piece I wrote five years ago for national coming out day. Since then I’ve discussed it on the podcast Amazing Gays in the hope it helps others.

October 11, 2011

Today is National Coming Out Day in the USA, and after reading out some other coming out stories I thought I’d share mine. If it helps anyone out there who may be struggling with it, then good.

I knew I was gay from about age 12. First day at an all-male high school and my first thought when I arrived was that it felt like being locked inside a chocolate factory.

But then when I realised (or at least convinced myself) that it would mean being ostracised or getting my head kicked in, I kept my mouth shut. Perhaps if I told myself that girls were hot enough, then I’d learn how to be straight. Pray the gay away, as it were.

This continued for a few years until I got to grade 11. Back to a co-ed school and I instantly recognised groups within the 1000 or so students at our campus which I could blend into.

But I still didn’t know any gay people and I wasn’t sure how I’d go being the test subject. Further compounded by the fact my parents were both on staff at the school (Dad was vice principal at the time), I already had expectations to live up to. Most of which I probably put on myself in an effort to be a goody two-shoes and fly under the radar so not to get singled out or picked on.

I realised quite quickly that wishing it away wasn’t making me any straighter, and I ate my feelings until I eventually weighed 116kg by graduation.

I was at a birthday party at an Indian restaurant shortly after school finished and two close female friends were discussing how a male friend of ours tried coming out to each of them. Only problem is that he was so subtle about it that it took them about an hour to realise. They were in hysterics over the fact they both missed what he was trying to say.

But they didn’t care at all. They didn’t dwell, it was straight onto whether we should go thirds in garlic naan or cheese naan.

A wave of relief went over me instantly. I knew if I came out I’d have at least two friends who would stick by me even if all my family and friends felt they couldn’t. Catholic guilt at its best.

So that night I told them both and for the first time in my life I experienced first hand what it meant when someone uses the phrase “a weight was lifted off my shoulders”. Instantly I sat up straighter and all the tension in my shoulders just vanished. I felt completely free.

If I had my time again, I would have told my family that next morning. But I was most scared of their reaction so I waited three more years before telling them. Prompted only when my middle brother sent me an email from Dublin where he’d been living a few years. In short it said “I know and it’s okay” followed by “tell them and then we can just deal with it”.

We both agreed I needed to tell them by my 21st birthday, which in our family is a big do with family, friends and free booze. All part of becoming a man.

I didn’t feel like a man though. I got to my party and had chickened out. My party was on the Saturday, my actual birthday was on the Sunday and my parents were going to Europe for two months on the Monday. They’d be seeing both my brothers while there and knew it wasn’t fair on my brother to have to keep that secret for me.

On the Sunday night I decided I needed to tell them the only way I knew how without falling apart. I sat down and wrote them a letter detailing everything from realising at age 12, to the shame I felt in year 11 and 12, the first boyfriend I had, and then subsequently the first time I got dumped. I told them every little detail, there couldn’t be any secrets after not trusting their love enough in the past. In the end it was something insane like 14 pages both sides. Once I started writing I couldn’t stop, I was up until about 3am writing. I snoozed for a bit and then waited for them to get up at 5am to make their flight before handing over the huge envelope. I gave clear instructions not to start reading until the plane left Melbourne. Much harder to get back to Hobart from Bangkok.

I then sent an email to my other brother saying “I kind of just told Mum and Dad in a letter that I’m gay. Can you make sure I haven’t completely ruined their holiday?” I got a reply a few hours later saying that he was proud of me. I’d be struggling with telling everyone yet all I could think of was them. It didn’t feel all that selfless at the time, but it was the nicest thing he could have said. It put my mind at ease instantly.

I got a phone call from my parents when they reached their stopover. It was Dad. Catholic school teacher and active member of the local parish. The one I was most worried about.

“Hey Leith, it’s Dad. We read your letter.”

Fuck. Here we go.

“Your mother and I just wanted to say that we love you, this doesn’t change anything. We’re just sorry you were scared to say anything sooner.”

I was on the brink of tears by this stage. He passed the phone to Mum.

“Hi love.”

“Hi Mum. Did you read the letter?”

*silence*

“Mum?”

Then I heard her quietly crying. I made my own Mum cry and it felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. Dad came back on the phone.

“Your mother is just a bit upset, a bit overwhelmed. But we both still love you.”

I hung up and burst into tears. I’d never wanted to disappoint my family, especially my parents who both sacrificed so much so none of us would ever have to go without.

A few weeks later I got a letter from Switzerland. Mum had written a letter back to me saying that she wasn’t crying because she was disappointed. She was crying because she realised that when I was depressed and stacking on the weight, it was because of my secret. As a mum she wanted to be able to fix it and make everything better but she didn’t know what was wrong. It was tears of relief.

When they arrived home, Dad’s first words to me were:

“Have you got a boyfriend?”

“No…”

“Well hurry up and get one, your mother and I would love you to bring someone home for dinner sometime.”

Over time, Mum got more comfortable talking about it too. It took time, however she got there.

About twelve months ago I was visiting them in Hobart, and on my way to an Equal Love rally, Dad asked if he could come too. I was shocked. Even more shocking was Mum asking if she could come too! When Mum realised she wouldn’t have time to shower and change and make it on time, she teared up. But this time she said “I just want you to know that I support you and love you very much!”

If my 12 year old self, or even my 18 or 21 year old self could see how things ended up, I think coming out would have been a lot easier.

Happy coming out day everyone!