National Coming Out Day
National Coming Out Day 1998 was my first experience with the LGBTQ+ community at large. I was a freshman at a state university, newly pledged to a national sorority, and so far in the closet that I was probably closer to Narnia than the United States. I remember sitting in the area of our student center called The Pit, a sunken area in the middle of the center that had become unofficially designated as the Greek life seating area. On this particular day, people would come to the top of the stairs, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs, and shout some version of, “My name is _________, and I am gay!” This was obviously before social media, so doing something like this was about as public as coming out as a college student could have at the time.
Finally, I asked someone, “What are they doing?” And the joking began. “They’re making it easier for us to know who to cut during Recruitment.” A slew of derogatory name-calling followed my question until I began to realize that these students were shouting at us in The Pit because they were doing what people throughout time had done– they were shouting strength to power. In my attempt to hide who I was from myself and others, I unknowingly joined myself in the campus power structure. This was anything but safe for me, however.
A sister casually looked at me and said, “Ya know, you almost didn’t get in because we thought you were one of them. When I looked at your resume and saw you were an editor for a paper called The Spectrum in high school, I said, “Huh, uh, we aren’t having any of that in here. Lucky for you, someone knew that was just the name of your school’s paper.” I didn’t feel very lucky at that moment. Or safe. Or known. And I certainly did not come out that day. In fact, it was an entire decade before I made any sort of public statement regarding my sexuality.
In the 25 years since my first Coming Out Day, I’ve gained a lot of wisdom and insight concerning this practice we call Coming Out. I prefer to think of it as “being known.” In my quest to be known, I’ve begun sharing three pieces of wisdom with those coming out and three with those who may be entrusted with someone’s coming out experience.
First, for those coming out:
Look at this more as an “inviting in” than a “coming out.” This has become a relatively popular piece of advice in the last few years, and for good reason. Shouting about the most vulnerable aspects of your personhood to people who will not be responsible with this information is not as empowering as people once thought it would be. Unfortunately, it can still be plain old dangerous, physically, emotionally, and/or spiritually. Instead of putting yourself out there to be a target of all the slings and arrows, carefully invite people into your story. Share with those who you believe will handle your story with care, who will join you on your journey, and who will be an ally who takes those slings and arrows alongside you when they do come. As a first step, invite your people in rather than come out to everyone.
Don’t feel as though you owe it to people to be their token gay friend or a sudden expert on the theology of sexuality. While we all have undoubtedly done more research, study, and prayer concerning the topic, we should not be expected to answer all the questions or defend our choices to any and all people who want to know more. If someone is asking in order to genuinely know you better, and you leave those conversations feeling loved and supported, then by all means, continue to share. But if you feel like you are constantly defending yourself, or you’re answering the same “Sexuality 101” questions time and time again, use those moments as an opportunity to challenge your friends to do the work for themselves by suggesting articles, books, podcasts, or videos. Be willing to help them find the resources but encourage them to do the work themselves. You’ll all be better for it.
Know that coming out is not a requirement or a sign of maturity. Be as out and known as you are capable of being in the place and situation you find yourself. Due to geographic location, professional policies, or personal safety, some of us will only come out to very few people. And that is not only okay, it is good and wise. Our sexuality is not legitimized based on the number of people who know about it. Who we are is legitimized solely by the fact that we are people created in the image of God, with full dignity achieved simply by existing.
Second, for those blessed enough to have someone entrust you with their coming out:
Never fail to acknowledge what an act of courage and trust that person has made. Research has shown that, for most sexual and gender minorities, nearly a decade passes between us first realizing our sexuality or gender and actually sharing that with another person. Hopefully, that number is shrinking due to people being more comfortable talking about sexuality and younger generations finding support and encouragement from their peers more and more, but sharing this is still a terrifying experience. Fear of rejection can lead people to never share, so if someone comes out to you, tell them how honored you are that they chose to share with you.
Confirm your love for them. Especially if you hold a position that does not support same-sex sexual activity. Most likely, if this person has shared with you, they know your theological position and believe that you love them as a person beyond that. Verbally confirm that to them: “Thank you so much for sharing with me. I hope you know that my love for you has not changed and will not.” The time will come for conversations about those theological beliefs, but this is not the time. This time is for confirming the relationship and deepening the connection through a time of intimate sharing and transparency.
Continue to check your own heart for signs of homophobia, and do your own work to confess, repent, and grow in that area. Simply growing up in the Church in the United States means that most of us have some sort of internal judgments or assumptions we make about people in the LGBTQ+ community. Commit yourself to work with Jesus, your pastor or spiritual director, or some other trusted friend in discipleship to learn and grow so that you can continue to be a safe and healthy person for those who come out to you.
The Church should be the safest place for people to have their coming out experience, but we still have much work to do, corporately and individually, to make that vision a reality.