So this week, a super hot guy came out, in a manner of
speaking. Not gay, not bi, not anything so specific. But he does guys. At present, anyway.
It’s a win for the gays. Give us that much...
It’s odd. By rights we should hate him. He’s young, good
looking, fit, rich, successful, famous, intelligent AND nice. People that perfect
are just too annoying. But he’s just so
hot and lovable that somehow I manage to overlook these numerous imperfections.
But it got me thinking about coming out, growing up gay and
the scurrying around, hiding it that precedes all this. I’ve had people say to
me, even quite recently, how lucky my generation is that they didn’t have to
grow up afraid or hiding their sexuality.
I nearly fell off my chair. I was kind of angry... partially
in response to the person who was saying all this perhaps, but they would NOT accept
that when I was young, growing up in Essex, kids weren’t happily coming out and
leading confident, well-adjusted lives, out ‘n’ proud.
I don’t know where she got this idea from, but it certainly
was not the case.
There were no gays at my school. Not a one. But boys who
were a bit quiet or a bit camp or not good at football were harassed for being
gay with depressing regularity. I was generally quite safe- I was confident and
escaped most of this, but still got called gay all the time. But it was true,
so I couldn’t really object.
Nor at college. One boy came out at college, and was
subsequently hounded ‘til he quit.
It just wasn’t something that happened. I now realise there must have been loads of
gays all over the place, but every one of us was hidden. But it WAS scary.
Whilst no-one was looking to out anyone; it wasn’t a case of people being under
suspicion or scrutinised or anything; you did feel that you could give yourself
away at any moment.
All my friends were girls, I didn’t play sports, I never had
a girlfriend. I felt like everyone must have worked it out and it was frightening
in a very real way. And now I wonder quite what the scary, unspoken consequence
of being found out might have been...
I suppose being disowned by family, rejected by friends,
hounded out of school and essentially having nothing left. Which is pretty scary. Unfounded as it turns
out, but the only mentions of gayness growing up were negative references from
kids or in television drama, or the odd celebrity being hounded. There was not
much positive press about homosexuality. It was a scandal, a shame, a crime or
some manner of death combining all three. Whether real life or drama, it wasn’t
something people accepted or celebrated.
But you gather confidence, you learn more about the world,
you leave school and can select friends more similar to yourself, and you
eventually see a world where they might accept you. Certainly for me, a couple
of years after leaving school I was living in a world where I could imagine
being honest and not hiding. And I was surrounded by people I had more
confidence in trusting not to reject me. Not that I was paranoid when I was at
school- my anxiety wasn’t unfounded – but you grow up a bit and I suppose you
can be a bit more realistic about people’s responses.
My family, for example, far from rejecting me, have never
been anything but whole-heartedly supportive. But when you’re 12 and you see
gayers on telly booted out for coming out, you kind of have to wonder, don’t
you...
But this is why the Tom Daley event spoke to me so
much. I only came out because I met
someone, and after a few weeks, I didn’t want to sneak around any more. I didn’t see
why I should have to. But prior to meeting Simon, I had no reason to upset the
apple cart. Or risk upsetting it for uncertain reward.
But as I say, in a similar situation, at a similar age, I
felt the happiest I ever had. A year or so before, I had accepted I was gay, I
was generally happy, I had good friends, a reasonable social life, a successful
career at school and college and a loving family. I wasn’t doing badly, so I
just resigned myself to being single forever and wanking my nights away alone,
and got on with things.
I was fairly happy with that arrangement. It was enough...
But then we met, and I had a reason to do it. Everyone else
went on dates. Everyone else had partners, everyone else’s parents knew about
their relationships. Why shouldn’t I have a bit of that.
And whilst the sneaking around was sort of exciting and
dramatic, it was also very scary and was not sustainable in the long term. It
was growing close to the time when we would tell our friends and families...
And then Simon’s fucking mother comes home early from work
one day and catches us – not AT it, but sort of... well, okay. Interrupts us and everything goes to blazes
for a few minutes, so we just bite the bullet and tell people.
And you know what?
Not a single bad reaction. Not really.
Not from anyone. A couple of friends who felt a bit hurt, and who, if I’m
honest, I’m not sure will ever quite understand that it wasn’t keeping
secrets. Not in that respect- just
something that HAS to happen when you’re ready.
But friends and family were supportive and loving, if a bit
crazy and paranoid, but we were totally accepted. Sometimes I feel guilty that
I’d ever feared rejection when nothing of the sort happened remotely. But it was too scary. Too big a risk.
You have to do it when you’re ready. When you have judged it
safe.
So yeah – it IS a big deal when people come out. It’s still
a big deal because you never quite know what people’s response will be. People
are crazy and unpredictable and you can’t take it back once you’ve said it.
So it is very brave, and it is important.
Sometimes I wonder about being a bit more open about it at
school, though that’s another type of risk on another level. And another story...
In the meantime, after all the heavy stuff that I’m not very
happy I’ve articulated clearly, here are some gems from my mum after I told her
I was gay:
“I don’t mind as long as you never go to a gay club. It’s
not safe. People wait outside and write down your names...”
“I suppose it’s okay as long as you don’t actually do
anything together...”
“It will be okay. We
can just tell everyone that you’re two bachelors that live together, and enjoy
each other’s company. No-one will ever need to know...”
Dare you open... The Scary Door?
Thank you for writing this post. It pricks the conscience, and has triggered some old memories of the kinds of messages I wrote when first asking about all things gay, or whatever I thought I might be. I miss that heartfelt articulation, now I can only offer rambling passages.
ReplyDeleteI cannot pretend to be persecuted, nor live in fear of loss of work or lodgings.
That is a privilege of sorts. No excuses. No, the duller, aching fear is of being a disappointment, an embarrassment to those I love: The gay one.
Avoiding 'negative consequences' is never a positive motivation, but it can become a familiar groove. Despite affirming tales of coming out, of friends' encouragement to brave the parapet, NOT doing so has been sustainable too. Ish. Somehow. Ah the contradictions of being less-than-out...but in a relationship
(happy)?
It reminds me of my early awkward outings - gawping, awed, watching others 'being gay' - some being rather more theatrical than others: sailor suits ahoy!
Whatever it really means to me now, at the time there was something exciting about it: illicit and golden. Perhaps it is just the nature of experience and inexperience - at any age - to be at first intrigued, then entranced, and later merely accustomed to it all. Not that the gay scene is all gay life. As with all things, it depends what you're into and who you meet and get to know. Give me the gay bookish demi-monde anyday...perhaps with the odd disco thrown in.
I suppose waiting for the world to change if I won't is both lazy and hypocritical. Things have changed since I was at Uni, but if I sometimes see gayness as a bit odd (not wrong but unusual) then I can hardly expect more from others, can I?
Ah the self-hatred...only it's not. I'm happy enough with my lot. But it is not the final word. Doubts remain. Not telling the whole truth for so long brings problems of its own. Apparent inactivity - in not wishing to be the subject of conversation, or the object of concern, is ultimately as bad as notoriety. Gay abandon.
Heavy stuff indeed. Well done Tom.