It’s Ok To Be In The Closet
When you’re queer, you spend your entire life made to feel like you are absolutely batshit insane at every turn of your development. Literally everything you enjoy, like, dislike, or are curious about is scrutinized under the cactus needle of cis-heteronormativity.
I say cactus needle because it’s not something that cuts you and then you heal. It stays and festers — but unlike a cactus needle you can’t remove it, even if you tried.
Cis-heteronormativity is a centuries old discourse based on the assumption that heterosexuality and cisgender is the norm and privileges them over any other form of sexual orientation and over any other form of gender identity. This discourse is reinforced to us through social beliefs, politics, and the media that anything other than cishet is perceived to be ‘different’. It almost always results in violence against trans binary and non-binary people, as well as people who are cisgender but not straight.
So when in 2018 I realized “Im not crazy, I’m transgender” the world, and my experience in it, made waaaaay more sense. I just genuinely didn’t want to explain it anyone.
I have been an educator for over 15 years and I can say without a doubt adults are terrible learners. At some point people reach an age where they just decide they are done learning, done growing, and have nothing left to learn — simply because they can’t possibly fathom not being right, or God forbid, apologize.
I love you all dearly, but honestly, it’s true. You aren’t good at it. I’m not saying I’m great at it, but I learned a long time ago that fucking up feels bad; fucking up really bad means feeling really bad; feeling bad (and really bad) sucks; so its best to just do your best to not fuck up, and if you do, apologize right away and don’t make it about how fucked up it feels for you; but about how fucked up it is that someone else’s day is fucked up cause of something you did or said.
When I’m teaching kids, all I have to say is: don’t be an asshole and they get it, but you adults…you have a reeeeeeally hard time.
Anyway, with my newfound understanding of myself, I stayed in the closet…kind of. I came out to my spouse and a trans friend of mine, but that was it for almost a full year. After that I came out to a handful of queer friends and queer family. I wanted to get to know me, to spend time with myself and my inner child who had been told for the last 36 years that I was weird, broken, strange, abnormal and imperfect — and bask for a moment in the reality that I was perfectly fucking fine, just the way I was.
The act of coming out is a constant, unfiltered, unfettered stream of questioning from people who’s education about LGBTQ+ people, biology, and gender stopped at around age 12 but are much older.
When I finally came out to family and friends I did so with clear boundaries. Not coming out right away helped me establish what I did and didn’t want to talk about, and with whom. The cisgender and heterosexual people in my life got an email with reading material, and clear instructions stating that they needed to try to find answers themselves before asking me questions, as well as a list of questions that were and were not appropriate to ask. As much as I love my cishet friends, I knew I was probably the only non-binary or transgender person they knew, and I was responsible not only for my own mental health but for showing them how to treat me as well. It’s an unnecessary burden, but it’s one that all out people carry: we choose our happiness over our safety; including the safety of existing without our humanity being questioned or othered.
Now that the world is opening back up my anxiety is high as I think about the questions that will inevitably tumble out of the mouths of adults, the grace I will be expected to extend to them, and the boundaries I will need to remember I am strong enough to maintain. I am immensely grateful for the time I had with myself, and for the strong bonds I built with my queer chosen family, and I’m proud of the boundaries I have regarding what I will and won’t tolerate in my life from “allies”.
If you are queer, you don’t have to come out right away (or at all) and you can choose who you come out to (or not come out to). Being out can be wonderful, but it doesn’t legitimize your queerness and you are absolutely allowed to have boundaries about what you will and won’t talk about, and you very much deserve to have those boundaries respected.
To the cishet people reading this: I know how hard it is to learn about new things. I am a teacher, and I am turning forty this year. I get it. The world is changing rapidly, and those of us are starting to feel the pressure to keep up and that’s hard to do when you have a job, have kids, or have a family you are taking care of. I encourage you to remember that a lot of the knowledge you gained about the world probably happened in your formative years, but that information is not absolute. You have to be open to learning, and that includes being open to being wrong and being corrected. It also means remembering that queer people don’t owe you explanations or education and that their boundaries, and humanity, should be respected.
Most of the cis friends I came out to said something along the lines of “I’m gonna mess up your pronouns, but I promise to work on it”. It’s a common response, though one rooted in centering the cis person’s discomfort, instead of the trans persons safety. I responded the way I did to all of my friends who said this: “It’s ok if you mess up — if you do, I’ll correct you”. One friend in particular gave a pause, and a look of concern “Oh…you don’t have to do that….”, they said. “You don’t get to misgender me and not apologize.’ I responded, “You don’t get to make a mistake, and not learn and grow. Mistakes are made when we are learning, it’s a part of growth, but they don’t get to be ignored.” Thankfully, my friend was an actual ally and understood where I was coming from, but it was still something I had to say. My name and pronouns were not inevitable mistakes to make, they were parts of me that needed to be respected.
If you are an ally it means you are committed to learning. If you don’t know where to start, begin by learning what is and isn’t ok to ask, about history, and politics so that you and your queer friend can have a conversation instead of an educational lesson. Above all else, remember that queer people are experts in their lived experience, and that they deserve the utmost respect — including but not limited to the respect you give to others by calling us by our names and pronouns; not asking us to share our trauma, our medical history; defend our humanity, or speak for our entire community.
We have a long way to go before “coming out” isn’t a thing any more. Until then we as queer people need to be there for each other, and our allies need to hold themselves accountable. I’m happy to be out now, but I am also out because I can be (in a relatively safe way). Being out doesn’t mean that my time or who I am is accessible to everyone, being out is something I know I needed and wanted to do at this point in my life. It doesn’t have to be for you, you are allowed to be out to yourself — just remember, you aren’t alone, and there is nothing wrong with you. You are absolutely miraculous, in or out of the closet.
