Short Story
The Art of Coming Out
An LGBTQ short story
I was playing minesweeper while I waited my grandma to call us for lunch. My mother was also in the room and, for whatever reason, started to talk about my childhood best friend — my mother was certain that one day I’d marry that girl. I answered sarcastically: “There’s a wedding that’s hardly happening…!” She had finally understanded. The message fell on her lap like a bomb. But with misunderstanding: “Oh, my God, she’s a lesbian!” And then, the drama began. It was uncomfortable, in a moment she used these words: “What a disappointment…!” The subject ended when we united with the rest of the family to eat.
I’ve spent the rest of the afternoon feeling bad for taking my best friend out of the closed. Even though it was an accident, I knew that was wrong. I also felt like a coward because I took her out, while I remained inside it. Back home, after dinner, I explained to my parents what I actually meant: “That wedding is hardly happening because we’re both bisexual”. They remained in silence. That night I was on duty for washing the dishes, so I just turned my back against then and started to clean the plates. They went to their bedroom and we never spoke of it again.
The problem is: when a queer person gets out of the closet to their family, their relatives find themselves inside their own closet. It’s their turn to find the courage to come out. It’s a long journey and mostly lonely, at first. If it took a long time for said queer person to accept them for who they are, it’s going to take a long time for the family to feel the same. I noticed my mother’s journey because, little by little, she started saying things like: “when I finally have a daughter in law… or a son in law…” — after a while, she just said: “son in law.” She began asking which of my friends were also gay, lesbian, or bisexual. I knew she had finally got out of her closet when she told me of a conversation she had at the gym: she was talking about me to a friend and said, very naturally, without thinking: “Until this day, Peter have never brought a boyfriend home.” I was happy for her.
Today, I consider myself a homosexual; tomorrow, only the gods know. But I didn’t see the need to update my parents.
Truth is: every queer person will spend the rest of their lives coming out of the closet because our society simply assumes that everybody is straight and cisgender. But I’m here to tell you that, whit time, it gets easier. Even more so when you are happy with your sexuality and don’t hide it.
The first time I told someone I liked guys, was to my friends at college, when I was on the filmmaking program. I felt comfortable because I already knew that not all of them were straight. We were talking about Game of Thrones, which actor, or actress we considered hot. I only said male characters: Jon Snow, Ramsay Snow, Theon Greyjoy… I considered unfair that my college friends got to know I was gay before my high school friends, so that day I message them to tell it.
I think it’s lame that we have to tell it, actually. You won’t see a straight and cisgender person tell their parents about their sexuality or gender expression. Why does it have to be different when we are part of the LGBT community? So, I try to find ways to casually pass that information to people without making it a big event.
When I had an internship, for instance, I casually said it to some work colleagues. After our working day had ended, some said they were going to watch football. I said I was going to catch a movie screening during Mix Brasil Film Festival — those who had noticed it, noticed it.
When I was studying at the journalism program, our class was writing a Declassified Quarantine Homeschool Survival Guide. My classmates must have noticed that I’m not straight when I proposed that we used gender neutral pronouns throughout the book because I knew that, among our readers, there would be non-binary and trans persons. And they were certain of it when I defended that proposition fiercely. It was worth it, most of the class agreed to it and, months later, we received an honorable mention on the 1st Inclusive Journalism Award.
In another class, with ither classmates, a professor asked us to share with the room a newspaper that we admired. As I was already a pro in coming out, my presentation began with: “In case the pink-neon sign is turned oof and you guys haven’t noticed yet, I’m very gay. So, I’m gonna show you the newspaper Lampião da Esquina.” I knew that the joke worked because I saw my professor giggling.
Today, there’s a rainbow flag and my pronouns on my Twitter and Instagram bios. If you pay attention to what I share on social media, you don’t have to be a Sherlock Holmes to get that I’m not straight.
I’ve came out to my parents, to my friends, to my professors and work colleagues. I’m yet to come out to my grandparents. The plan was to inform them when I eventually stared dating a guy: “I’m dating someone. His name is…” But I haven’t got a boyfriend yet. I must have made them suspicious about it when I asked them to give me a copy of Devassos no Paraíso as my birthday gift — only someone very interested would have asked for a 500 pages long book about the History of Brazil’s queer community. Or when I’ve told them that my favorite musical is about a HIV-positive lad, or when I’ve wrote a very complimentary review on The Gospel according to Jesus, Queen of Heaven. If they were not so sure, they’re going to be when I show them this short story. And I know they won’t mind.
NOTE: This short story was originally written in Portuguese for “Por Dentro da Crônica”, a creative writing workshop taught by Fabrício Corsaletti at A Escrevedeira.
You can read the original story in Portuguese here:
