My Coming Out Story: Young Love, Miami Nights, Feeling Pride
A part of my heart will always belong to Miami.
I was 19-years-old when I came out to my mom, standing on the mall at the University of Maryland where I was studying journalism.
I could picture her sitting in the parking lot of our neighborhood’s shopping center on the other end of the phone call, right across the street from where I went to high school just two years earlier, as her entire life changed. God, my hands were shaking so viciously, I could barely hold the phone to my ear as I told her the words, “Mom, I’m gay.”
I dated a guy who flew me to visit him in Miami almost every weekend during my fall semester in sophomore year. We’d spend our days on South Beach, our nights in the art district, drinking in both of our first experiences of caring for another person so deeply. To this day, I can’t be sure whether I was in love with my first serious boyfriend, or if I was just blinded by being involved so passionately with another guy for the first time in my life. But I do know one thing: a part of my heart will always belong to Miami.
The city was an escape from the overtly masculine and heterosexual environments American college campuses breed. After a year of living and socializing almost entirely with straight friends and peers (not to mention the routinely frat parties), and a burning desire to explore my own identity, my weekend trips to Florida felt magical. I got along well with all of my boyfriend’s friends, and we’d go dancing all over the city at the most incredible gay bars I had ever been to.
Every moment was breathtaking; each step was further into unchartered territory. I was living life exactly as I had hoped when I was a young boy conflicted with my deep thoughts.
Something about that moment just felt right.
Maybe it was because, for the first time ever, I felt secure in my sexuality. I told most of my best friends I was attracted to guys in my early high school days, though I also dated girls up until my senior year. Sexuality is a spectrum, and finding your balance is a confusing, interesting path. But this was my first true relationship with a man: I felt brave, like I was finally willing to be vulnerable. So when my mom called me that day in October, something about that moment just felt right.
She was at the bank and wanted to discuss charges she saw on my account. A restaurant on Ocean drive. An ATM fee in midtown. Shopping at Lincoln Road Mall. For the life of her, my mom couldn’t understand why so much money was being spent on my debit card in Miami.
Mom: Do I need to report your card is stolen?
Me: No, mom. We really shouldn’t have linked bank accounts anymore, by the way.
Mom: This isn’t funny, Chris. Have you been going to Miami with your friends and not telling me? Why wouldn’t you just tell me?
Me: Do you want me to tell you why? Are you sitting down?
Mom: I’m getting in the car right now. What is it?
Me: Okay…okay. I have been going to Miami. I’m actually dating someone who studies and works there. I’m really happy, mom.
Mom: Well how long have —
Me: And the reason I haven’t told you…is because, well, I’m dating a guy.
Mom: (Radio silence)
Me: Mom, I’m gay.
And just like that, our entire relationship was thrown upside down. I later told my dad in a text, not knowing how to speak to him after the conversation with my mom didn’t exactly end well. I’m not going to dive into details right now about what happened between my family and I in the hours and days after I came out to them. What I will say, though, is it was a painful time.
One of the only things my ex ever did right was being there for me when I came out.
I quickly fell into a depression after I came out to my mom and dad. My world was numb, and I felt a void inside of me; like all of the happiness and pride I had been feeling suddenly evaded. I couldn’t talk to my roommate, or even my best friends, about the emotions I was experiencing. They couldn’t understand how much it hurt to feel abandoned by your family just for being yourself.
Luckily, I had Miami. Even though red flags were presenting themselves at every corner in my relationship, one of the only things my ex ever did right was being there for me when I came out. Before I knew it, I was clinging to him in his apartment, with tears streaming down my face as he softly told me how beautiful my life would become now that I had finally let down my walls.
My ex wasn’t the right one for me. But he was right about what he told me that night. My family has come around, and accepts me exactly as I am. To them, my sexuality is just another part of their son, their brother, their lifelong friend.
My life is more beautiful and filled with love than I ever thought it would be after coming out. My sexuality is one of my favorite parts of myself.
Everyone’s coming out story is unique, and should be made entirely on their own terms. I was 19-years-old, wearing my heart on my sleeve and falling in love with my true self for the very first time. Like most experiences in my life, my coming out was impulsive, unexpected and emotional: but I ended up happier than ever before.
