kadzysplaining

[kadzysplaining]

My coming out story pt 2

Secondary school

Yikes! This was the point of life that I had a lot of repressed memories from, and I learned the hard way - kids can be such s*its!💩 I was bullied a lot because of how I walked, and talked (which was a weird one because apparently articulating yourself with correct English is a reason to be bullied) and honey I don‘t walk I sashay, because everyday is a runway! I would try to break as many uniform rules as I could without getting into trouble, I cut the sleeves off my shirts, I wore skinny jeans and timberland and I loved being able to just about express myself.

It was here I made a few good friends and fake girlfriends, and played the long cat and mouse game figuring out who I could really trust. Let’s put it this way, everyone knew it was just me not confirming it. Eventually, I said ’f this royally, I am gay…and?’ This is the point where the bullies didn’t know how to bully me because I accepted it and we all knew it. They would start pushing me into other guys and act like you could catch gay from touching, and I‘m not even going to explain how idiotic that is.

Now it came to coming out to my parents…

This was is quite possibly the most scary, and confusing times for me. I took my mum out for a lunch and came out. To which she responded ‘no you’re not’. It was there I was bewildered for the first time in my life and had NOTHING to say. Like denial doesn’t mean something isn‘t true.There really wasn’t much I could say after that I just left with here and we had a very silent and awkward trip home. When my dad would walk with me to the shops after school, people would often assume he was my boyfriend which was the first time of how he knew.

Let‘s just say there were years of animosity, I didn’t know how to tell my parents because I had already tried to and at this point it wasn’t like they didn’t know I was gay.

There would be several more attempts after this which were all met with “it’s just a phase” or “you’re too young”.

For a long time after this I felt very isolated in regards to my family, I didn’t utter a word about this to any of them after this and shut down. This experience also made me mature and grow up fast because in that moment I only had myself, to confide in, to process these experiences with and despite putting on a happy face in school no one knew just how angry, sad and scared I was. I was scared to go to school from somewhere I couldn’t be my whole self to a place that tormented me just for existing. I was aware I painted a target on my back but experiencing all this ignorance and pain, it made me push harder; I wanted to be smarter, better.

I don’t think much gets done about bullying in schools, or teachers must be really naive because I remember one teacher telling me to “get off of my high horse” because I was starting to show more confidence than usual to counter my sadness and anger. But no one ever said that to my bullies who are quite privileged to be straight…

I got my decent GCSE’s and got into doing a levels but that’s a part of my life I scrubbed from my history. 😂😂

As soon as I finished my A-levels I moved in with my life partner and that’s when things changed. I was provided with a nourishing, loving environment where I could be myself. I was very open about my family experience, and whatever was lacking there was made up for in other aspects of my life. I had other parental role models who I became very close with, I just wanted to be with my mum how I could be with these other mums.

My official Coming Out

It was the summer before university, and I remember being on a rooftop garden sunning my legs and I knew that was the day. I was going to tell everyone, my mum, my aunts, my family. Everyone was going to know I was gay. No one knew my address, where I was or who I was with, if they really didn’t like it - I was in a place where I could just cut them off. Mentally I was already prepared for doing that because I couldn’t be stressed out about someone else’s problems, I had worked too hard on myself trying to be perfect to counteract me being different and realised that nothing I work on within myself could change them because I was not the problem.

I took another sip of Prosecco, and called my mum first, I told her and she went silent and hung up. To be honest I didn’t know why she hung up, then I called my aunts and eventually everyone knew. I was so tired of hiding, of the ambiguity - it was so physically draining. The question I always got prior to this is “how did they not know?” And that is a good question, most people just assume, my family never assumed, I acted the same around them as any of my friends. I would dance, strut around, wear outrageous outfits. They just never assumed.

My uncle told me a story about a few years back when we went to a family wedding that one of my uncles asked if I was gay and he just said he didn’t know. And I appreciated that so much because truly no one did know, its a story I never forget. The next hour was filled with a conversation from one of my uncles saying my mum called her in a frantic state, and I did laugh because really again all this hysteria for something you already knew. And one of my aunts saying “why didn’t you tell me, I have gay friends, you could have told me” now this…is not the serve people think it is. Yes you have gay friends, but that’s different when it’s family. My mum had gay friends doesn’t mean she was very accepting of me when I came out for what was now the 7th or 8th time to her. But also every situation is unique and a deciding factor of my choice isn’t dependent on if you gay accepting or not because I’m not looking for acceptance or tolerance. But it was if you were ready to keep a secret from my mum as long as I did.

I held the burden of my secret and my truth, and telling one before another that can lead to messy situations, and me worrying about how long people were willing to wait to tell my mum. So everyone has to do them, you know your family better than anyone else, you calculate and you plan how you do things on your terms. My first meeting with my uncle in ages, was at a nice little Costa with my mum. She went off and the interrogation started, am I doing drugs, blah blah blah. I was caught a little off guard with these questions realising these are all stereotypes of gay culture, and most of my responses were an amused ”no“ and “come on, you know me!”

These were all things my mum was concerned about, and there were far more embarrassing questions she would ask later on where I would take the time to say you can’t ask that. But what was surprising was how worried my mum was that she thought she didn’t know me anymore. She was constantly expressing how sorry she was for not being there or being alone, and I had to remind her I was neither, yes she couldn’t be there for me then, but she’s still here. Thats how I moved on and got my peace and closure is just telling people that I told them when I was ready to tell them and that I don’t want to focus on what they think my life was like because I handled it in my own way I was not a victim, but I am very resourceful, kind, intelligent mature young man…oh and fashionable.

So my lovelies this is the end of part 2 and I hope this helps break not only the narrative around coming out etc but also helps you understand me better. I wanted to do this post for a while now because this is my life story so far.

If you have any questions the instagram is@kadzysplaining

and if you made it this far thank you. x

[kadzysplaining]

My coming Out Story/Lived experience

Well my lovelies, this is the long anticipated pride post, yes I am aware pride month is over, but that doesn’t mean we should stop support for the community, nor does it mean that all queer issues are solves. So here is my story because I thought it would be great to get to know each other better, and maybe this might be able to help someone out there. I will also break this into two parts because I feel this is going to be a long one☺️

First things first - this term ‘coming out’ discard it. Replace it with ‘letting you in’ or ’welcoming in’ because that‘s what we are doing letting people into our lives and we don’t need to confirm our truths to people we don’t want to.

If you ever meet me in person, or already know me you know that I have a strong sense of who I am, but it wasn’t always like that and I most certainly didn’t have an easy time with any form of my identity. I grew up as an only child, and my parents loved me very much and would always find the time for me. But I grew up a daddy’s boy, my dad would be fixing the house up from the roots, and I used to be in my bouncy swing watching him take up carpet, put down wooden floors, doing tiling, plumbing - you name it, he was a machine. My dad was a what I would say a typical man.

My mum worked an office job in the city, and she loved her clothes and I was always in the best of the best, probably why I love fashion so much now, but don’t get me wrong I can still change a plug socket.

It came to the start of primary school, god did I HATE it. As soon as my dad would drop me to school I would start crying, I didn’t want to be away from them long. I was a very outgoing child, but I made it hard to make friends because I hated everything about it, noisy children - hate loud noises even to this day, a motorbike could rev past me and it would make me physically contort. I hated the smell, and I hated the dirty people. Don’t look at me like that you know young kids starting school are dirty, I remember this one kid wanted to touch my face and hair and I could see their hands were dirty and I simply rocked back in my chair and they got a foot to the mouth as they tried to touch me. 😂

If you made it this far, then I thank you because that means my life isn’t half as boring as I thought it was😅

Fast-forwarding I had very little friends, which didn’t bother me, but I was also bullied by staff as a child. And yes I’m not exaggerating - every lunchtime I could remember at this first school I would spend by the teacher because apparently I was a problem child I would get in trouble for the most minor offence such as calling a teacher by their first name. Eventually, my dad had enough and we would then spend every subsequent lunch together at that place. Everyday 12 on the dot he would pick me up in his metallic blue BMW and whisk me away, and drift around empty roundabouts and we’d get fish and chips after (occasionally as saveloy if I was being adventurous).

Then the crying would start again because I hated going back, and now I look back and should be rightfully traumatised, being isolated from other kids, not being looked after, neglected. Long story short, I transferred schools.

Moving to a new school was honestly my worst nightmare and always something that shook me to the core, until I hit university, and it even caused me depression at one stage. Anyway, I still was very resilient so that experience of school didn’t phase me. This new school was so much better, teachers were impressed with my reading skills, and how I was just a do it all. I loved sports, I loved being creative; singing, dancing, acting. My favourite memory was when I was cast in a main role in my schools performance play. I was singing, and dancing - what more could I have asked for. I remember how it happened too, the performing arts teacher was building her idea and playing music in a hall…being the loner I was I went in to hang out with her and just started dancing and singing. It really helped me get out all my emotions and left me feeling good.

It was not long after joining this school I KNEW😬

I mean I knew I wasn’t straight, I just didn’t know what I was, because there was very little queer representation and that was almost never talked about in my household. People were getting into messy relationships, and I still hadn’t had anyone who was really a friend, I think everyone secretly hated me. I would overcompensate my ’gayness’ with more straight acts like slapping the girls asses (I do not recommend you do this, you will get into trouble I assure you). I liked it all though, I loved sports, specifically athletics, gymnastics and took every opportunity to climb a wall and get screamed at ‘GET DOWN NOW’ I was a monkey I could climb whatever I wanted, but I also loved the artistic clubs, I joined tye dye club and massage club.

It reached a point where I would hang out in covert places watching people, I became very observant. Watching the girls be with each other gossiping, talking, and the guys doing well crazy stuff. It was then I became the crazy kid, the one that people think will kill the class.

Before leaving this school into secondary school I had my first kiss albiet a joking one for that person but it confirmed what I had known, I like guys, I’m…y’know! 💅

I’ll finish this part here my lovelies but if you’re enjoying this post I will be posting part two shortly. X

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[kadzysplaining]

Rise and grind - Hustle Culture

Right my darlings, you can be honest with me…do you actually like working? Do you actually LOVE your job? 🤑🤔

I always think about my mums relationship with work, and never at the start of the working week, with her dark tinted sunglasses on, so she could sleep on the crowded train to her office job in the city; not as she turned on her laptop to a endless string of emails; not as she went to get some stale biscuits to dunk in her starting coffee - have I EVER heard her say: ”thank God it’s Monday” (in fact I think she would have thrown a stapler at that persons head🤭)

Now don’t get me wrong, my mum is a hard-worker - all of family are, ranging from taxi drivers to working office jobs, my mum started her working career in a bar…where she would mostly drink her sorrows away.😅😅

But…money is money right?

Growing up my mum always did her absolute best to provide things for me, we didn’t have lots of money but we got by, and I knew she worked hard because when I wasn’t at school you could find me hanging out with her at her work. She was the best mummy ever…unless you have ever tried speaking to her during her nap on the way to work.

She would always tell me become an engineer, make loads of money, don’t end up like her, as a kid that made me very confused because my basic understanding was ‘mummy must love her job if shes getting up early and staying late at work‘ and as I got older I was caught between people who work hard and a generation who hustle.

I understand not everyone love their job, or can afford to leave and find one for them, but I feel like a traitor to the generation I live in and to my mum in a way, both side closing in on me.

We live in a culture that is adorned by neon lights with “the grind never stops” and cushions adorning sofas stitched into them the message “love what you do - do what you love”.

Welcome to hustle culture, the birth of the “Rise and Grind” ethic🤑. To simply explain it for those who are completely lost so far…the love and are obsessed with relentless working, with the ultimate goal of making money.

Is there anything wrong with this? Inherently no the world runs on money, bills need to be paid (insert ‘duh‘ here)

Hustle culture is obsessed with it though, from Nike campaigns to Instagram influencers, the game has changed from working a job as a means to an end to turning traits such as ambition into a lifestyle.

I personally don’t want to hustle, which is going against the generation, nor do I want to work a job I hate just for money as my mum would tell me. I want to enjoy my work, but I also want to have a life outside that. In this new work culture, this is just not acceptable! You can’t just like your job, you must love it, and become one with it - merging their identities with the likes of those who are employing them . And if you are going to disagree with this point just look at a recent feature on LinkedIn which is literally Snapchat for workers, so that they can show their love and their job becomes them.

Exploitative much?

It‘s really not that hard to see hustle culture as just some gimmick. After all we are bombarded on social media with posts of lavish lifestyles, fancy clothes and Gucci bags. What’s ironic is after you have brought that bag the question becomes how do you afford the rent or the mortgage?

social media perpetuates the issue, showing us things that only the top can reach and then we believe we can hustle to the top by hearing these success stories, and then refuel those at the top again.

When wage growth has become stagnant for a minimum of two years now, but there’s still £16 billion to spend on bombs and guns and further £300,000 paid as a bonus to the health secretary (on top of normal salary) what are we actually grinding for when it is still those at the top benefitting from us working so hard to get not even a fraction of what they have.

many corporations work on the basis of a Protestant work ethic, the work isnt what you do to get nice things - the work itself is all, any added benefit like company cars, or any other benefit that optimises time so that the day can fit in more work isn’t just what they want but is deemed inherently good.

What this exposes is how corporations dehumanise us and that our only value to society is our productivity, think about the google offices, why else have so many company benefits that are on site, if not to just keep you there longer to maximise work productivity.

Im going to end this here guys folks, hope this post highlighted our transactional society and makes you assess how you are living life.

just to re iterate - hard work is good, hustle is bad, live life a bit more and enrich your lives. You are more than just what you can provide to a corporation sucking your years away.

(I will link useful articles on the Instagram post made for this topic😊)