walk-out-the-closet

[walk-out-the-closet]

Y'know, there's this gripe I've had for years that really frustrates me, and it has to do with Love, Simon and people joking about it and calling it too-pg and designed-for-straight-people and all the like. (A similar thing has happened to Heartstopper, but that's another conversation.)

I saw Love, Simon in theaters when it came out my senior year in high school. I saw it three times, once with my friends/parents on opening night, once with my brother over spring break, and once with my grandparents.

On opening night, the air in the room was electric. It was palpable. Half the heads in there were dyed various colors. Queer kids were holding hands. We were all crying and laughing and cheering as a group. My friends grabbed my hands at the part where Simon was outed and didn't let go until his parents were saying that they accepted him. My friend came out to me as non-binary. Another person in our group admitted that she had feelings for girls. It was incredible. I left shaking. This was the first mainstream queer romance movie that had ever been produced by one of the main five studios, and I know that sounds like another "first queer character from Disney" bit but you have to understand that even in 2018 this was groundbreaking. Getting to have a sweet queer rom-com where the main character was told that he got "to breathe now" after coming out meant so much to me and my friends.

But also, from a designed-for-straight-people POV (which, to be frank, it was written by a bisexual author and directed by a gay man, this was not designed for straight audiences), why is it a bad thing that it appealed to the widest possible audience? That it could make my parents and grandparents see things in a new light? My stepdad wasn't at all interested in rom-coms but he saw it with me because it was something I cared about and he hugged me when we came out of the theater. My very Catholic grandparents watched it with me and though my grandpa said he still didn't quite understand the whole 'gay thing,' all he wanted was for me to be happy and to have a happy ending like Simon did. My Nana actually cried when Simon came out and squeeze my hand when his mother told him he could breathe.

And when Martin blackmailed Simon, my mom, badass ally that she is, literally hissed "Dropkick him. Dropkick him in the balls" leading to multiple queer kids in the audience to laugh or smile. Having my parents there- the only parents, by the way, out of my group of queer and questioning friends- made multiple people realize that supportive adults were out there. That parents like those in Love, Simon do exist in real life.

When people complain about Heartstopper not being realistic or Love, Simon being too cutesy, I remember seeing Love, Simon on opening night. I remember my friend coming out and my stepdad hugging me and my mom defending us through this character. I remember the cheers that went through the audience when Bram and Simon kissed and the chatter in the foyer after the movie was over and the way that this movie made me understand that happy endings do exist.

Queer kids need happy endings. Straight people need entry points to becoming allies. Both of these things can come together in beautiful ways. They can find out about more queer culture later, but for now, let them have this. Let them all have a glimpse at a better, happier world. Let them have queer joy.

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As I’m kind of growing and exploring things that were not really a part of my “straight guy” childhood and teen years, I’ve been starting to become aware of the effects of listening to boy bands. I don’t think I’ve ever really listened to music which had a core message of, “you’re wonderful and beautiful and I want to be with you no matter what” before. And it’s kind of nice. Now that I have, like, accepted my attraction to men, to hear a guy sing that I’m stunning as is is really nice. And I know that the target audience was straight girls and I don’t fit that demographic, but I can’t think of another type of music I’ve listened to which communicates that kind of innocent unconditional affirmation, and I can see why so many people liked to hear it.

#learning new things #bisexuality #Gay #mlm #this was inspired by an old One Direction CD I got from the thrift store #coming out

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Growing up, people would always ask me, “I’m sorry, I just HAVE to know… are you gay?” … Do you though? … Why would that matter? … Is that going to change the way you talk to me? … Years ago this might have been my reaction. Insecure. Defensive. Annoyed. I never felt the need to “come out” to anyone except those closest to me. But now, in the world we live in today, I think it’s so important to speak out. To be the fullest version of yourself, whatever that means to you. I want to speak freely on the issues I feel passionate about. And when you know who I am and where I come from you might understand better why I feel the way I do.

I had always felt different. I grew up in a small conservative town in Virginia. Spending my Sundays in church and later becoming a youth leader. I remember questioning the idea that being gay was wrong. Why are they picking and choosing this one thing to be against? Why are we fighting love? My mom, a strong believer in her Christian faith. My dad, raised Virginian, an avid hunter and fisherman who drinks light beer and watches football. My older brother who took to hunting and shooting pellet guns - and me, the baby of the family, running around doing gymnastics and breeding reptiles.

Growing up I was feeling feelings that not everyone was talking about. I was unknowingly crushing on my brother’s friends while running around with a t-shirt on my head because I wanted long hair. I was dating girls while knowing something was missing. I had always had this buried feeling that I couldn’t explain or really understand. It didn’t hit me that I was gay until I was 22. When I could actually say it out loud and own it. I hadn’t even MET other gay people until I was SEVENTEEN while I was working at a theater performing in musicals. SEVENTEEN. A crucial year, but only the beginning…

When I fell for the first time (physically AND emotionally) it was for a guy. I had never felt that way before but it was so clear to me after that. There was no more questioning. I suddenly gained this confidence in myself. I had leaped over a hurdle that was bigger than I realized at the time. And it was all because of love. Can you imagine now why it is important for people to speak up. (I could give you TWENTY TWO reasons!) Think of all the pain and awkwardness I could have dodged by knowing that my feelings were NORMAL. I was NORMAL. All those times I was bullied in school for my shorts being too short, or my voice being too high… and all the while people all over the world were just like me. Feeling the same way.

A few months after my realization, when I flew home for Christmas, I knew I wanted to tell my parents. Not the most comforting combo to face (as I mentioned before). But I had finally decided that I deserved to be able to step off their eggshells and embrace the life I had been given. With them being divorced, I was lucky enough to have two special moments of flushed cheeks and nervous poos. My mom still might believe I’m gay in-result of my relationship with my dad (*eye roll*) But that relationship wasn’t there because I wasn’t interested in the same things he was. I wanted to sing and dance on stage instead of shooting birds out of the sky. I needed him to make more of an effort with my interests but it wasn’t in his nature. If it wasn’t my dad, I needed my brother. To be the older brother, to stand up for me, to mentor me, whatever older siblings are suppose to do. Even though I didn’t have that male role model, it didn’t “make me gay.”

My family may never fully understand. (And bringing home a partner someday could be a whole different battle) But they’re trying. In their own way, I know they’re trying. The love hasn’t changed. And although I might still have to “tone it down” when I visit…comfort the ignorance… It’s a step.

And as you follow my travels just know that solo traveling as a gay man hasn’t been the easiest (in my experience). I have to be on guard wondering what is accepted or not accepted in every new town, city, and country I travel through. Will I get harassed or beat up if I act too gay? And dating is even tougher. I connect with amazing people all the time. But those connections are different. It’s frustrating to feel like you always need to be in a “gay-friendly” area to be yourself and find someone that might like you back. It’s like when your mom tells you you can only play “from here until that tree line out there.” So of course your instinct is to head straight beyond the trees into the horizon. Stop putting us in boxes. In areas. We are everywhere. And we have the right to be. And while some of my family still believe I am gay because I choose to be. Sure. You could look at it that way. Because I choose to be myself. I choose to stop fighting and to love. There’s no better feeling than knowing you who are and owning it. I love being gay, and if it was a choice, I would choose it a thousand times over.

I’m still navigating this world. I didn’t have my teenage years to figure it out. I had my 20’s now, I have now. I want to be seen as a friend, not the gay friend. Or the gay brother or the gay son. I want people to be aware but unaware. There’s so much more to me than who I love. Because I am kind. I have a good heart. I can be sassy. I’m masculine. I’m feminine. I’m grungy. I’m fashionable. I’m fearless. I’m scared. I’m happy. I’m me.

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What about you????

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But the thing I will never admit to anyone who's met me is how desperately I want to be loved, I don't think I could say it. How I want someone to hold my wrists and kiss my palms and smile at me, and want me, I want to be wanted and I don't know how long poetry or songs will substitute for being wanted.

[walk-out-the-closet]

Home.

When I was sixteen years old, I was a very lost little girl. 

I am tremendously lucky; my family is open and kind, my parents are loving, my church was liberal and warm, my school was progressive and thoughtful.

But I still remember getting teased mercilessly about how much of a ‘boy’ I was, with my short haircut and my t-shirt and shorts at the pool.  I still remember getting mocked for being fat, for being not enough of a girl, for not developing fast enough, for developing too fast.  I still can’t question my identity as a woman too much without cracking into a nasty mess of trauma.  I was nine, and I wanted to be anything but what I was.

I still recall the pastor at our church crying because of the gay brother she lost to AIDS.  I remember people outside of our little circle mocking us for working on his quilt square.  I remember sobbing myself, wondering what I would do if I got infected, wondering if the way I was would kill me before I graduated.  I was fourteen, and I knew that I was going to die.  Young, probably.  Certainly alone.

I can replay in my head when, at summer camp, were were tasked with writing monologues including one from the perspective of ourselves, fifty years in the future.  I wrote a comedy about robot limbs and virtual pets.  My friend wrote about how she would be dead, because something would have killed her.  The world would have killed her. AIDS or violence or the government would have killed her. I was sixteen, and I knew none of us would see the other side of twenty.  Some of us had pills to make sure it was so.

And then I remember this day, this miracle, magical day, when a girl from my youth group, three years older than me, beautiful and queer and proud, just came to my house.  I think she knew, though I never talked about it, I think she could see in me what I was and where I was going. 

We never hung out, but she picked me up and she told my Mom we were just going to hang out, and she drove me to a part of town I’d never been before.  It was a coffee shop, and it had a bookstore, and it had rainbows painted into the fence, and I knew what that meant.  And I was terrified.  But N, she was so cool.  She was so cool and so amazing and so confident and so self-assured.  So I went with her.

She ordered a french press and I had a tea, and we just talked.  About life, and philosophy, and all the beautiful, weird things teenage girls talked about.  And all around me, there were these people I’d never seen before.  There were boys holding hands.  There were photos of women kissing on the walls.  There were shelves of queer studies texts.  There were Polaroids of quilt squares stuck all around the register.

And the longer I was there, the better I felt.  And when we left, when the shop closed, I was so regretful to leave, so grateful to be there – I put every dime of my money in the tip jar.

And when I got back to my bedroom, I cried.

Because that place – it was home.  Home. Home.  It was safe.  For all my objectively wonderful, fantastic life, I had never, not once in my life, felt like that.  I could say anything.  I could do anything.  I could be anything.  

And there were people there twice my age.  Three times!  There were old people drinking coffee, holding hands, buying books, obviously not alone and they were like me.

My mom asked why I was crying, and all I could tell her was that I was going to be okay.  And that was it, that was the whole story.  I was crying because I was going to be okay.  Because there were people who lived beyond twenty.  Because no matter what else happened, there was a home.  I went back, over and over.  When school started, I gave my carefully hoarded pills to someone else, but I also asked them if they wanted to come to the coffee shop with me.

That coffee shop is long gone, and N has moved on and we haven’t talked in decades, but that first trip was absolutely essential to my survival, because it taught me there were places out there that’d feel like home.  Other queer spaces, ones that were quite explicitly so.  Clubs.  Parties.  College groups.  I never really came out, I just started being this person.  The world around me was accepting enough that I could.  And always, no matter what, if the world got too hard, I could find one of those places.  I wouldn’t get hell.  I would be home.

Where you go in, and you see someone like you.  You see a hundred people like you but not like you, old people, successful people, beautiful people, ordinary people.  You feel safe.  You go home.  Because it doesn’t matter what the place is, what people do there, it’s the people, it’s the strangeness, it’s the things you can not see in your mainstream life that make them special.

These places are so important.  And when one of them is violated, even when I don’t know anyone personally affected, I feel like my own home was broken into.  I feel terrified.

My family has been relentlessly, endlessly, constantly under siege since long before I was born.  It will still be at war long after I die.  But there are places like that coffee shop, like Pulse, where I can go to plan and play, to mourn and dance, to be.  

I don’t have some big conclusion for this.  I don’t have one of my usual messages of hope.  I just wanted to say that places like this are important, that we need more of them.  Places like this changed me, and for the better.  Places like this are where my family lives.  And while I will be on my guard, I refuse to be afraid to go there.  I will go home, any time, any city, and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.  The reward is worth the risk.  

If you feel the same – if you can, if you feel safe – please, go to one of these places this week.  Go to a club, go to a coffee shop, go to a mixer or an event, hell, go to a thrift store if it’s an explicitly queer one.  There are a lot of people that are going to be afraid, this week.  Go, please, if you are brave, and make those places weird and wonderful and diverse and home.  

[walk-out-the-closet]

This is a weird experience I had and I just need to write it out, so sorry if it seems weird or incoherent.

I was just watching a movie starring a very handsome guy whose character I like a lot and for whom I have definitely developed a fictional-person crush. In the movie, there’s one very brief moment where he *ahem* doesn’t have a shirt on. And looks… very nice.

And in that brief moment I got overwhelmed with that feeling of attraction. You know, butterflies and everything, which is to be expected from a scene like that. But the feeling I had wasn’t exactly a sexual attraction. Like, don’t get me wrong, that was part of it, but I feel like seeing that scene triggered this feeling of really strong longing to be with that person. Like, the desire to hold hands and be close and be in his arms and stuff.

And then that longing led to the sadness. Which I haven’t felt for, like, a long time now. To be fair, I have been sort of avoiding media this actor is in, and I guess that’s because he sparks this feeling of sad longing that hits me really hard. Right now I am in a place where I’ve come out as bisexual to myself, some close friends, and one family member, but I don’t feel I can pursue a mlm relationship (even though I’d really like to) because I’m still in that phase of transition from my current job and location to different ones that would have more affirming people where I’m still stuck in my current place and I know it will take time and work to leave it. All of that means that I really want to date a guy, but I don’t feel like I can yet. Especially because I plan to move soon and I don’t want to start a relationship that would inevitably end when I leave.

I guess it’s a good reminder that I can’t just stay where I am. I think that since I haven’t been feeling this pain much recently I haven’t really been motivated to do the research and writing that I want to do before I come out to my family (so that I can feel confident in defending my position when I tell them). This is a good reminder of how unhealthy it is to be living as someone other than who God made me. But dang it hurts.

I think I needed to write this out to process a little bit. As always, if you have any wise words or have felt similarly, feel free to reach out. Thanks for reading this little journal.

#closet thoughts #gay thoughts #bisexual thoughts #bisexual Christian #gay #bisexual #mlm #fictional person crush #fictional crush

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Reading wholesome, cute, caring gay fanfiction is a dangerous road to walk. On the one hand, it fills me up with so much happiness that I literally have to pause reading and take a few deep breaths before reading on, and on the other, it reminds me that the beautiful relationship I see in the story doesn’t exist in my story. And that’s just really hard sometimes.

#gay #bisexual #mlm #fanfic #gay fanfic #gay thoughts #queer #lbtqia

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I’ve often heard the argument that “God didn’t want there to be homosexual relationships, that’s why He made Adam and Eve instead of making two men or two women.” And for a long time I have to admit that did kind of make sense to me. Adam and Eve were the first humans, so they kind of got to set and encapsulate a lot of the ground rules, you know?

But I was praying about it today, and I feel like God was leading me to the question, “Was there anything the humans after Adam and Eve did that wasn’t precedented by them?” A few things came to mind. Adam and Eve weren’t the first to make clothes. They weren’t the first to kill animals. They didn’t grow up as children and have to go through everything that comes with that. Just because they were the first, doesn’t mean we have to do everything they did. We have to go through and experience circumstances Adam and Eve never even had to think about! The first of anything has a unique experience that will be different from the others that follow it.

And do we look down on celibate people because they didn’t follow the precedent of marriage and having kids that Adam and Eve set? No way! Paul explicitly states that not being married is good (1 Corinthians 7:8)! If we use the logic of only doing what Adam and Eve did, then celibacy is off the table!

The thing we need to look at for guidance here is the thing we always have to look at for guidance. The thing Jesus said:

Jesus declared, “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Matthew 22:37-40.

Jesus tells us that the most important thing of all is to love God and love other people. Love puts the needs of others first and it causes no harm (and a few other things). If two people of the same sex love one another, put one another’s needs first, and do their best to do no harm to one another, then isn’t that doing what Jesus told us to?

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You know, there’s just. There’s just something so comforting about learning queer history. And I think it’s that it rejects this idea that’s been constantly hanging over our lives that being queer is a new invention. There’s this concept that is sometimes stated explicitly, and often suggested implicitly, that the current generation (or, at least, the past couple generations) invented the idea of being gay or gender non-conforming or asexual or what have you, and the reason those generations did that was because they’re godless heathens who are, like, depraved and malicious. Whenever I’d learn about history, the people in it were always straight and cis and didn’t want anything else. That seemed to lend credibility to the anti-queer stances I hear growing up. If people for all of recorded history didn’t do this, then it must be wrong, right? And if I wanted it, then it must be because I’m horrible and messed up.

But then when I read about Alexander the Great and Sappho and Nikola Tesla, I start to realize that this isn’t some new, made-up depravity. It’s something that’s existed for way longer than anyone would tell me, and there were many times and places in history where people were okay with queerness! What a relief, right?? It’s that reminder of community that keeps us going and the knowledge of a precedent that lets me know it’s okay. It’s not depraved or malevolent or new. God made other people like me, and He’s been doing it for a while.

[walk-out-the-closet]

this. this. this. this smile is so important to me everytime i watch it. i think we all sighed with relief with charlie when we saw this. we didn't want another Ben even tho nick would never(and I've read the novels but still). this frame extinguished my anxiety, my insecurity. nick can't contain his smile he's literally trying not to break out blushing and giggling and shit. he likes him he's confused but he knows he doesn't want to distance himself from charlie.

i think this is such an important topic when it comes to acceptance or the idea of "I'm still the same person" when someone's exploring their sexuality. they still maintain their proximity as they used to when they were just friends but now they're more. now there are stolen glances and smiles and secrets and fireworks. there's a change in their relationship. there's a reason romantic and platonic relationships aren't same. they overlap sure but there are differences that you can't fulfil with the other. i like to think of this scene as an embodiment of "i have changed but in a way that just makes me more me" this beginning stage of their transition to a relationship from a friendship is just so perfect. it's awkward and cute and heartwarming. change isn't always bad change can be growth.

yes, maybe i did read too much into it but this is more of a projection on a show that has a sizable impact on me. so let me have this :)

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#this definitely hit different after I realized who I was #thank you Rebecca sugar and crewniverse #Steven universe #garnet #rose #pearl

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umm???? who decided that gay comfort shows just get to??? end?????????? why was i not notified of this?????????

#love victor #that last episode #I dont really pay attention to which episode I’m on #in relation to the series #so I didn’t know it was the last one #but then the characters started resolving their arcs #and making plans to move away #and it slowly hit me #dang #this is the last episode isn’t it #now I have to find ANOTHER gay comfort show #long-suffering sigh

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Hey quick question does anyone remember how to not have a worryingly intense crush on a fictional character yes this post is about Nick Nelson

#when he smiles #it feels like the sun is rising? #is this normal? #please help #Heartstopper #nick nelson

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So a few months ago, I saw that Netflix had a new show, and the banner image for it was of two boys sitting next to and smiling at one another. I was in a place where I was looking for some kind of good queer media, so I clicked on it and hit play. Cut to about a month later and I can’t push the smile off my face as I watch Nick Nelson and Charlie Spring kissing in a photo booth and laying on a towel on the beach. Heartstopper wasn’t the show that made me realize I was bisexual, but it was the one that finally showed me what I want to have someday (and yes, don’t worry, I know that real life is not as magical as a tv show), and it was the thing that finally gave me that push to come out to my friends. It means a ton to me and it always will.

Even as I was in the midst of watching it, though, it gave me a little trouble. I found that by watching Nick and Charlie’s love story, the joy that filled me up when I watched them hold hands and kiss in the rain was usually very quickly replaced by this empty feeling of longing. I knew that if I watched the show on a day when I was feeling especially tired or down, then it would put me in a worse place, because I knew that I wasn’t in a place where I was ready to be open about my sexuality. And even after finishing the show, whenever I would see YouTube edits or gifsets of the characters (especially Nick ❤️), that same pining, empty feeling would come back. I started to worry that any sort of queer media would make me feel the same way.

But now, I’m being reminded of a marvelous little nugget of truth: I actually can’t predict the future. I started to watch Love, Victor about a month ago, and while I still felt that almost explosive joy and happiness whenever I’d see Victor and Benji give each other heart eyes or kiss each other right on the mouth, that emptiness didn’t rush right in and replace it. I don’t really know why, but this show doesn’t hurt as much to watch. Maybe it’s because I’m not particularly head over heels for any of the characters like I was for Nick. But whatever the reason, it’s been really nice to have this show that just gives me happiness instead of one that gives and takes.

#this is not an anti Heartstopper post #I love Heartstopper #I just love it too much maybe? #Heartstopper #love victor #bisexual thoughts #gay thoughts #bisexual #gay #soli deo gloria

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I think something that is so intrinsic to the queer experience is staying up all night, reading or watching a gay love story on your phone, holding back sobs. Knowing that you could have this one day, that you could be this happy one day. But for now, you have the same four scraps of hope. And while they can be badly written, or unrealistic, and sometimes not even meant for queer eyes; they are yours. And for the night you can hold this hope in your hands and pretend that you are entitled to your own love story, outside of the screen. And you don’t have to be so afraid until the morning comes.