#it's such an ideologically confused show but you cannot deny the vibes...

[panicatthecatcafe]

Pride Month Reflections in 2021

I used to tell myself I would come out to my extended family and friends when it became relevant. When there was something to tell. A person I was seeing that I would need to explain to the family. In my family, you’re never just telling one person. It’s a network of gossip-one I’ve gleefully taken part in when, for instance, my cousin got his first girlfriend, and my grandma and I gossiped for a half hour about everything we knew. 

It also just seemed unnecessary to go through the effort of making a “coming out” post on facebook or instagram. I knew some family members would be offended, not by my sexuality, but by the fact that they were not told personally. My decision to go to grad school, for instance, when announced on facebook, was met with congratulatory, but underhanded remarks about “how am I just hearing about this.”

I came out to my sisters and mother freshman year of college. I had fallen hard for a friend, to the point of no longer being able to deny that my attraction to women was not simply an aesthetic one. I’d come out to my roommate (actually at the same time she came out to me) and my high school best friend several weeks earlier. While those experiences were nerve wracking to some degree, mostly because I was afraid, luckily completely unfounded, that my attraction to women would make my roommate uncomfortable sharing a room with me, it was nothing compared to the heart-pounding, sweating, all encompassing shaking when I came out to my mom. I’ve still never talked about it with my dad. When I asked my mom once if he knew, she said “I must’ve told him at some point? Yeah, I’m sure I must’ve.” While this was not a completely confident response, my dad can hardly be confused at this point, none the least because he kindly told me I had been tagged in a “Queers on Stage” post just in case there was anyone I wasn’t ready to know I was, indeed, part of the queer of Queers on Stage. 

In college, I was delighted that 90% of my friends also experienced queer attraction and romance, and truly every single one of my high school close friends has since come out, at least to our friend group. I’ve kissed two of my best friends onstage in multiple shows, sent hundreds of gay memes in group chats, and generally found myself in such queer friendly spaces that I was able to forget that non-queer spaces exist, particularly because I graduated during the early days of the pandemic and ended up only seeing my 4 vegetarian, radical leftist, majority queer housemates for 12 months. 

So I found myself unexpectedly shaken when I received a text from my grandmother out of the blue. The only part of which I could preview said “Hello my Gay Catholic [my name]. Yes, it was brought to my attention.” +1 for her subtle dig at the impersonal method of discovery about my own affairs. I knew what this must have been in response to. My sister had posted a message for pride month affirming the place of the queer community in religious spaces, and her own personal commitment to allyship. An absolute asshole commented something stating that accepting queer people as they are was leading them away from the church and was harming their ability to get into heaven. After vocalizing several cuss filled responses, which included a wrathful yell that catholics like him are the reason that queer people don’t and never have felt welcome in catholic spaces, I replied with “Please delete your comment-sincerely, a queer catholic” and reported him. I’m not sure if my report deleted his comment or my sister did (I highly doubt he deleted his own comment and for that he can f*ck off!), but it must have been up long enough for my grandma to see it. 

I have a lot of complex feelings for my grandma. Some of my favorite memories from childhood involved making crafts with her, decorating cookies, unwrapping ornate Christmas presents at her house, and eating her incredible cooking. On the other hand, in recent years she’s gotten swept up in far right ideologies, to the point of publicly announcing that Biden stole the election through voter fraud, among other ridiculous conspiracy theories. But, she also pulled me aside during my sister’s wedding to genuinely ask how she should address one of my sister’s friends who was trans and using new pronouns. I have trouble reconciling the grandma who makes far right posts on facebook with the one who I wrote an essay about in 2nd grade for the prompt “who is your hero”, talking about her beating cancer and her upbeat look on life. 

Looking at the preview of the text on my phone, I found it hard to imagine she’d sent a condemnation, but I couldn’t help but worry. When I’m nervous or feel like I’m about to get bad news, I feel as if ice has travelled through my entire body, my hands start shaking, and I lose all strength in my limbs. I have a theory that the overwhelming majority of queer people will still experience anxiety coming out to someone, even when they know that the response will be a positive one. Even when things go well, they don’t go like you planned. When I came out to my mom, my sister and I were sitting in the backseat of the car, driving back from a rehearsal together. I couldn’t pay attention to any part of the conversation because I just kept telling myself “I’ll say it to her at 9:45pm. 9:45. 10 more minutes. 5. 1. 0. Mom I’m bi” The statement was entirely at odds with whatever they had been talking about before, coming out of nowhere, which may have explained how slow my mom was on the uptake. She said ok and something else affirmative, but didn’t mention anything about how she loved me to my recollection. Or if she did it felt somewhat rote. I remember feeling disappointment. We stopped by the store, however, and she picked up a “bai” drink and said “look it’s you!” and I knew things would be ok. Later, my sister would tell me that mom was just sad I hadn’t told her earlier. 

I don’t think straight people understand that it is harder to come out to someone you’ve known for a long time (or indeed forever) than to someone you’ve known for a few months, such as my roommate. Coming out to someone who has known you for years feels like you’re telling them “I’ve been lying to you all this time” particularly when thinking about statements you may have made to assert your straightness to yourself and others. I remember being relieved when I found a photo of Draco Malfoy attractive in middle school because I thought it meant I had to be straight. The time in 9th grade that a girl flipped her hair and I was captivated? I was just envious because she was prettier than me. My disappointment in my mom’s response was furthered when I took her and the family to see Love, Simon, in the hopes that the movie could explain what I couldn’t about how hard it is to come out to the people you love and who love you. After the movie, I was crushed when she said “I don’t know why he was so nervous to come out to them.”

All this to say, it took me an hour to gear myself up to open the text. Inside was this message: 

“Hello my Gay Catholic [my name]. Yes, it was brought to my attention. I love you for who you are not what you choose (unless it’s evil destructive murderous) . And you are from that. You are the most  vivacious, loving, happy, energetic, intelligent, sassy with heart 💜 ❤️💜 kinda person who sparkles in everything you do. 

Remember,  you cannot force people to change their minds.  Reciprocate & allow them to be them, allow the space, and time. And if they don’t, don’t take it personally. It doesn’t mean they dislike you. Love unconditionally and tell them you still love/like them. 

 I L🌺VE YOU”

The first time I read it I focused on the positive. She loved me (even if she made assumptions about my queer identity with the label she chose when I don’t even fully know how to label myself other than queer). Reading it the second and third time, I got frustrated. I was frustrated because I hate the idea that we have to come out at all. I didn’t mean my comment to be taken as a “hello world please accept me!” It was awkward and I shouldn’t have to ask for people’s acceptance, especially from my loved ones. Then I got mad, because the second paragraph told me I had to accept others when they wouldn’t accept me. This is probably where I experience the most cognitive dissonance with my catholic faith. I’m supposed to turn the other cheek, but at the same time, when other people are hurting me for something I cannot change and does no harm to others, how can I not respond to that in a negative way or take it personally? Maybe that’s why I don’t feel like coming out, because it gives people the chance, however unlikely, that they can reject me. However, if I live my life, post as I like, share content, and hopefully someday share moments with a person I love, I am simply living an unremarkable life in the truest sense of the word. I don’t accept unconditional love when that love is toxic or harmful. I’ll say it again, if someone tells me I’m going to hell for being queer, they are choosing to target a part of me I cannot change and that doesn’t actively cause harm to others. They are causing harm to me in targeting my identity. And I count myself lucky because I am a white woman of unremarkable face and body that doesn’t give off strong queer vibes. Others in the community face far worse physical and mental violence because of people who refuse to “change their minds”. 

I started this essay intending to write about the fact that I am turning 23 and have only ever kissed someone as part of a character I played onstage. I’ve been on a few first dates, but have never been in a relationship or even felt close to one. I experience true attraction so rarely that I can count it on one hand. I don’t know who I am and I often feel like there must be something wrong with me because I’ve never found myself romantically involved. I expected this essay to be an in-depth analysis of my feelings of inferiority and imposter syndrome in the queer community, but unexpectedly this feels like something else. You don’t need to be sexually or romantically active to be a part of the queer community. This community is about acceptance. It’s about love. It’s about calling out harm and rooting out exclusivity. At least, that’s the kind of community it should be. I’m not gonna lie, we have a long way to go, but at the root of what makes us different is our ability to be expansively, intentionally, and incandescently ourselves. Whether or not I end up with a romantic partner anytime soon (and yes I am taking offers), I know myself better than anyone and I know I belong. And, as I once wrote defiantly on my arm during a tough day for middle school me, I know I should “do no harm and take no shit”.