Late Bloomer: Coming Out

How Do You Come Out After a Lifetime of Being Seen as Straight?!

This is Late Bloomer, an essay series about coming out later in life. This is not an academic dissection. This is a farmer talking about how long it took me to catch up, and what that experience has taught me. I hope writing this series helps build allyship and understanding and saves some of you the time I lost.

Last post in this series I talked about building queer community and making friends when your life changes entirely. This post is about the coming out process and the emotional politics involved.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert in sexuality or psychology. I am a memoirist sharing experiences and opinions. Do not read or listen to this post if sexuality is challenging for you to think about or question at this time.

New to this series? Here are the archives so far:

Part 1: Lesbian Coyotes Mugged Me at a Waterfall (When I realized I was gay)

Part 2: Why Women Take So Long To Realize They’re Queer (Comphet is hell)

Part 3: Fear of Change & Moving Past It (Being brave for yourself & others)

Part 4: Body Issues (Getting over ourselves so we can be happy)

Part 5: Building Community (How to make queer friends)

Part 6: Coming Out (The work of changing identity in adulthood)

My Story & The Lavender Tragedy

My coming out story isn’t what you think. I never sat down with friends or family to have “The Talk” nor did I feel it was necessary. I was a grown single woman in my thirties that had been financially independent since I graduated college. I was also me. And if you ever meet me, there will be zero question if I’m queer. I always spoke for myself, just being myself.

Or so I thought. But some people still seemed surprise when I came out. I couldn’t tell if they were shocked I was gay or shocked I finally dealt with it. Probably both. Straight people in your life, especially “straight” people who are also quietly question their sexuality, take it the worst. I think seeing someone deal with what they are repressing feels like losing a comrade in arms; another queer who gave up the ghost of making their parents happy. They don’t even realize how hurtful the things they say are. When I came out friends said everything from “I’ll believe it when I see it” to “It’s an early midlife crisis” to “you just haven’t met the right guy yet.”

PSA: If you’re a straight person reading this, and someone tells you they are gay, believe them.

I technically came out when I tweeted I was bisexual on National Coming Out Day back before Twitter was taken over by an evil billionaire. (I am not bisexual. I’m a lesbian.) …but that was all I was capable of saying because I was scared to publicly announce I wasn’t interested in men. When a woman does that, it changes how people see her. You may think that’s not true. I assure you it is.

Especially out here in rural America where most people don’t even know what to do with a 42-year-old single, childless, never-married woman. I’m not participating in any of the roles that makes people around here comfortable. The homophobia isn’t slurs and threats, it’s the quiet dismissal of not being the kind of woman they understand or even know what to do with. When I say being a lesbian in this town feels exactly like being a coyote, I mean it. You’re either something wild and admirable or an unwholesome threat to farm and family.

Coming out comes with a lot of other people’s baggage. And that fear of judgement, or not being accepted by family or loved ones, it keeps some people in the closet their whole lives. They end up in lavender marriages (consciously or unconsciously) or cheating on their spouses, or both. Or worse, they repress who they are so long and so hard they die inside so early it’s heartbreaking. Lying about who you are poisons your entire outlook on life, and other people.

Not having to announce your identity only works around other queer people. We always know our own. And even if other lesbians clearly saw who I was, that didn’t mean they were going to tell me or I was ready to accept it. Which is why us gays have this delicate line with closeted people we just don’t cross. We all wait for each other to catch up. No one can force someone to accept their sexuality if they aren’t ready. We all know this because we were all in the same boat.

So what gave me the courage to come out? I wish I had a more epic story. I didn’t surprise myself by falling in love with a woman in some repressed sapphic trope. I also wasn’t one of those clueless super-eager ally types. And I wasn’t weighed down with religious guilt, or concerned about what my parents thought, or feared society’s judgment, or anything like that.

I wasn’t out because I was trained to be straight, never allowed myself to truly consider otherwise, because I didn’t think I deserved to consider it. I hated myself. I didn’t think I deserved love, from anyone, until I was “good enough” to accept it. An impossible and ever-moving line that was safer than changing my identity. I had become perfectly comfortable pretending I was straight.

I hated myself for not being pretty enough, thin enough, successful enough, envied enough. I was raised to think happiness was a rich husband with a country club membership and my job was to support him and raise his children. And while I was ready to meet my best friend and bone down (straight sex was all I knew about at the time) I sure as hell never wanted the country club or kids. I wanted a sweet funny guy to watch movies with, bitch with, and split the rent.

And since men was where I was taught to find that, and they didn’t physically repulse me and occasionally even made me laugh, I assumed I was straight. A lot of women, especially Millennial Women, are dealing with this right now. We’re the generation that grew up with AIDS still on the news and Boomer parents that thought Reagan was a stand up guy. We’re the ones that got DYKE written on our lockers and called gay like it as in insult at lunch. But we also lived our adult lives as the country was becoming more and more accepting of queer people, and that perfect storm of more representation, marriage equality, and out and proud people made a lot of us consider if we actually were straight, or just doing what we were told…

Then I dated my first woman. The rest is history. And then instead of dealing with the shame of being gay I was dealing with the shame of not accepting it, of lost time, of kind men I lied to, of all the experiences I could have been having and the woman I could have become if I only knew.

I call this the Lavender Tragedy; when you know you’re queer, but doing anything about it feels impossible. Because accepting a passable life that was palatable was easier. And that struggle has nothing to do with clueless husbands, judgmental parents, or what your coworkers will think, this is entirely internal

Step 1: Coming Out To Yourself

The summer I came out.

There were plenty of signs I was a lesbian. Like, throughout my entire life. I ignored them all. We all do until we’re ready. And the more time you invest in your straight passing identity, the harder it is to accept.

Some women will go to extreme lengths to not deal with it. They almost become walking bits, like SNL characters we all politely play along with. I know I was like that. Every single thing about me, from how I walked and talked to what I was doing with my life, was queer. But our culture is so invested in comp het, until you announce you’re gay people will let you pretend you’re straight.

I am sure I said this before, but when I was closeted you couldn't get me to even consider I was gay. And the things that might help clue me in were avoided for that same reason.

I remember running across lesbian erotica and refusing to click on it. Are you kidding me?! I couldn’t even bring myself to watch clips of The L Word, much less an episode! Because I knew—on a cellular level—I would like it. That once I opened the door to I wouldn’t be able to look back.

If this is you, watch the fucking L Word and save yourself a decade.

Sidenote: the first time I watched the L Word I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and feeling. And the L Word isn’t even that great of a show, it was just the first time I allowed myself to enjoy something sapphic without judgement. Point being: if you keep avoiding gay content because it makes you uncomfortable with your own identity, it’s time to open the Master Doc.

Fam, straight women do not feel this way. Straight women can binge the whole first season of Orange is the New Black and watch that scene with Piper dancing for Alex and only wonder where Piper got that cool bra. When I saw it I was having an existential crisis. And it wasn’t about Piper or her dancing or the bra. I couldn’t handle how it felt seeing Alex put down that book.

Straight people think coming out is when a closeted gay person tells people they’re gay. They aren’t wrong nor should they be blamed for thinking this. Coming out to straight people will always be this because that’s how they find out people are gay! They never had to deal with telling themselves.

But for us, the questioning and queer, coming out is an inside job. And if someone tells you they’re gay, know they’ve probably been wrestling with it since their first crush. The news you hear in 10 seconds took a lifetime to work up to.

Almost every queer woman I know came out later in life, most of us in our thirties. Every one of us kind of knew, but it took an undeniable attraction we couldn't shake to finally deal with it. Some of us got blindsided with feelings we weren’t expecting from a woman we knew. Some of us fell head over heals for someone at work or the gym. Others realized that an actress or musician we couldn’t take our eyes off was way more than admiration. Some of us still used cringe homophobic phrases like “girl crush” and “no homo”. Some of us are uncomfortable reading this right now. Some of us never opened this email. They couldn't.

Again. Take your time. But please, for the sake of the small animal of your dumb little body, please know, when you can’t take it anymore…

It’s time.

There are some people that still feel speculating about someone’s sexuality is wrong, as if you’re accusing them of a horrible crime.

Folks, wondering if someone is gay is like wondering if they’re Italian. And if it feels like something you shouldn’t ask or assume about someone, ask yourself why you feel that way?

Only when we are ready to accept who we are, can we even begin to start telling friends and family. Another huge step. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a hard one.

Step 2: Coming Out To Other People

Coming out to other people later in life isn’t like coming out in high school or college. Younger people are being raised in a more accepting culture, and coming out earlier is easier. People almost expect you to know your sexuality by the time you’re registering to vote. College if you’re really repressed.

But young people are living entirely different lives than most older queer people have. They are lucky, because when I was growing up being gay was something I was taught you were or you weren’t. And if I wasn’t sure, or scared, then I must be straight because that’s the default. That’s the factory standard. And don’t you want a nice family? Don’t you want to make your parents proud?

It’s so hard for Late Bloomers to come out because everyone we know knows us as our straight fronts. There’s shame in not knowing sooner, and having to make choices that affect partners and children. Some women are actually trapped, especially here in America, thanks to capitalism’s ruthless grip. Women lose their health insurance, can’t afford the rent or childcare alone, or fear for their safety if they tell their husbands something they don’t want to hear. They may not fear abuse, but the heartache of ending something that would devastate the person they vowed to cherish forever. And many Late Bloomers feel their own happiness is selfish when it disrupts what they already signed up for and feel mostly content with. They don’t care about love or good sex or being true to themselves as much as not upsetting the people they’ve been lying to.

It’s heartbreaking. Most of the Late Bloomer subreddit (an anonymous free forum and amazing community and resource) is women in this exact situation. If you’re a Late Bloomer that feels she can never come out, you may find inspiration or comfort there while you cook a little longer.

I would like to say right here and right now: being a closeted queer doesn't make you any less valid or less queer. You’re a part of my community. Don’t let fear get in the way of accepting who you are, even if you never tell anyone else. Being your authentic self, to yourself, is the most powerful thing a woman can do.

credit: sappho-and-the-lesbos on Tumblr

When you finally deal with your sexuality (in my case, 35 years into living on the planet) all the people in your life; your family, your friends, coworkers and random clerks at the grocery store, they all know you as the person you’ve presented to them. I was talking about dating men for years after I knew I never wanted to touch one again, because it was familiar. Because it made other straight women comfortable around me. Because it allowed me to feel “normal”.

Pretending you’re something you’re not isn’t normal. It’s sad.

So when you are ready, come out. It doesn’t matter how. You don’t have to sit down with your parents and friends. For god’s sake, you’re an adult. You do not need permission to be gay. You can just be gay. The next time your bestie asks who you’re interested in on the apps, start talking about the girls you’re swiping on. Or when a friend talks about the perfect man for you; say you’re pretty sure you’re looking for the perfect woman.

It’s not 1980 anymore. Being gay isn’t a big deal to most people, and the ones that still think it is a big deal aren’t going to make it easier whether you come out or not, so get it over with and let them stew. How they feel about your life is none of your business.

I know all of this is more digestible for single women. But what about women currently in heterosexual marriages or with kids? Or in super conservative or bigoted areas that still think queer is a slur and something to be ashamed of… it’s not so easy. In fact, it could even be dangerous.

For those of you in that situation, I feel under qualified to speak to your plight. I’ve never been married. I’ve never had or raised children. And I know some women can’t ever come out to their families or husbands and have it go well.

If you’re in this situation, I must encourage you to reach out to a therapist. If you can’t afford a therapist, then reach out to your local city or state LGBT association. You probably have a local PFLAG chapter, which is one resource I know has helped a lot of closeted people, because it’s an association for allies, not gay people (like parents and friends of queer people). For some queer people not ready to come out, being surrounded by straight people with queer loved ones is a really encouraging and healing space. If all you ever heard growing up was gay people burn in hell, being around parents who love and support their gay children and family can give you a fresh outlook on what your life could be. And anyone running those meetings or events will have more information about local resources, counseling, community events, and social resources than I ever could offer.

(WLW stands for women that love women)

Step 3: Live Your Life

I wish coming out wasn’t a big deal. I wish we never had to do it. I wish me dating women was as normal around here as guys in muck boots at Stewart’s, but it’s not. All I can say, and say with certainty, is that I have never been happier. I have never cared less about the judgment of others and I have never held my head so high or felt like such a badass. I have never doubted my joy for a single minute and I’m never going back in the closet. Which isn’t to say every situationship or rebound was great. There’s been a lot of bad dates, heartbreak, drama and complications. But I wouldn't trade any of it to be “straight” again.

Because I never was. I was just scared. And if being scared is the only thing keeping you from being happy… that’s something to think about.

And there’s nothing I can write that can get you out of your self-made cage. I know. But if you can make it out and surround yourself with chosen family, queer friends, community and activism towards queer liberation - you won’t believe the changes that happen in your heart.

I’m not afraid of myself anymore. I wish I could give people a sample of this feeling. I wish I could have given a vial of this confidence and experience to myself at 25 and let her know everything was going to be okay. That I was going to be honest and out. That I was going to have amazing sex, make great friends, find my people, and even fall in love. Even if none of it ended in a partnership, even if I never have one, I still made it to the place where I know exactly who I am and what I want. And if nothing else, I can be an example for other young or closeted people who witness my life everyday.

You don’t have to come out for anyone but yourself. You never have to tell anyone a damn thing. But tell yourself. Allow yourself to be a complete person. Drop the shame and embrace the pride that comes from clawing out of the hell that is other people’s approval.

Live your life. It’s all you’ve got.

BONUS Q&A PODCAST, ETC!

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Cold Antler Farm is a reader-supported endeavor. The farm is ten days from possible foreclosure. It always will be in constant danger until I can manage 2 mortgage payments in one month to catch up, and that hasn’t been possible. Right now I just need to make a late payment to avoid losing the farm and stay 4 more weeks, and try to earn two next month. I am highly motivated, if completely exhausted.

If you value what I do, and can afford to pay for it, please pay for it. I only make a living through what I write, farm, drawn, design, and make. There isn’t any savings or spouse or credit cards or checks from relatives or 401k. It’s just sink or swim.

If you can’t afford it, and either love my writing or need this resource, I will comp anyone who requests a free subscription. I know I couldn’t afford this now and if I was closeted, I sure as hell could have used this.

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