Coming out is a challenging and scary process. You never know how someone will react, and it can be so nerve-racking to let people in to see the real you. I was in that same position as so many other queer individuals, but coming out had opened me and bared my true self in ways that I could never be when I was in the closet.
Some people like to establish that they are a person before they are gay, and that's okay. However, I believe I am a gay person in that order. Being gay isn't just a determining factor for my sexuality. It's who I am through and through, and when people didn't know that I was gay, I honestly felt that they weren't seeing me.
Now don't get me wrong, there is no specific way to be gay, and there is no gay personality, but being gay is far more profound than just who you love. Being gay is accepting yourself; being gay is accepting a community of people who were told they are wrong, nasty, and different; being gay is knowing yourself and finally being in your skin.
When I finally came out of that closet, it felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I could finally be me and not have to hide; I could open my family and friends up to a culture so rich and full of love and color. Before coming out, I wouldn't invite my family to meet friends; they couldn't drop me off at parties or events, anything! I was living a double life, and every day it felt like I was walking onto a movie set getting into character when I came home.
My family knew me, but they didn't see me. They didn't get to hear fun stories about my school day or what fun adventure I had at rehearsals. I had forced myself to be a stranger from the people who should have known me the best. I could see that it wasn't just hurting me but my family too.
When I finally took the time to come out, it felt like my family had opened their eyes and seen me for the first time. No more smokescreen, no more lies, just me and everything I came with. It's been a blessing ever since to talk about boys with my mom and sister, telling them about my day and what happened in my life. To no longer be afraid of questions when they saw my friends. To be me truly and to NEVER have to play a role or character again.
The power behind words is a heavy one. The fear and relief it can bring, the sadness and happiness it can provide. The disgusting looks you get, the sly smiles thrown at you. The way your voice alters and those perceive you differently. The way you are now forever known as “Gay” and not as you.
I “came out” in March 2018. I remember muttering the words “I’m gay..” On my twin-size bed as my mother scolded me for cutting my shirt into a crop-top. I remember her eyes, full of pity. I remember my dad’s fear that we could never connect, I remember my grandmother’s denial and my sister’s relief. I remember learning to spell my name Alejandro with a G, A, and a Y.
I had to learn how to be “gay Alejandro” instead of just Alejandro. I had to live with the lack of male friends because they just aren’t like that. The casual jokes about how I can’t do the math from people I never talked to. The obnoxiously sharp whispers in my ears, the burning stare of an audience as I reformed in this play that is my life. Those moments where I was gay and not just Alejandro. Where I wore flower crowns, painted my nails, flirt with every gay boy, said “yas” and “queen”, had by nature a closer attachment to women than men because you like the same things. This siren’s song coming from the spotlight.
This song that I had memorized by heart. Every pause and breathe, every high note and belt. That led me to flirt with any boy, which led to me being willing to follow anyone on anything, which led to me isolating my family. This song haunts every moment of my life. That plays every step I take, every time I sit in my class. This calling card to my depression. That led to canceling plans because I couldn’t see the positive, which led to feeling perfectly fine in one class to feeling a deep pain in the chest in my next one. This feeling that no matter what I do, I will always disappoint. All these emotions were tied to a stupid three-letter invitation to a community that I had to fit into.
This hunger to be accepted by someone, anyone, led to forgetting who I was. This hunger starved me until I was small and weak, with tears running down my face. Seeking validation from people I envied. Feeling so out of the home within my body that I wanted to change it by any and all means. Wanted to stop eating because people envied my body, wanted to bulk up because I looked like a twig, wanted to shave because I looked crazy, wanted to grow out my hair because I looked like a child.
Since, I’ve been able to live with it, taking small moments and feeding off them. I often replay the moment I felt happy in. However, this is merely the beginning. I still have to struggle with creeping moments every now and then. These moments where I shut down and cry until I can’t breathe because there’s nothing I can do. These moments when my brain hates how I speak, act, and look. But, they are just that: moments. Small vignettes in the intermission of my constant play.
However, it’s my 11 o’clock number. I’ve found my name, my purpose, my body. I’m Alejandro. A queer, 17-year-old, Hispanic male. I am not a word. I’m a beautifully complex teenager. I am, finally, myself.
Religion, Love, and Change
Like many Hispanic families, religion is a very important part of our lives, growing up, my family was no different. We would pray every night and my mother would occasionally take us to church when she had the time. As puberty hit, I began to feel a certain way about a specific gender. Knowing what I have been taught and believing the words that have been spoken to me, I felt as if I was committing a sin.
I felt like an outcast to myself. I tried to dismiss these feelings by trying to fall in love to a very lovely girl, but in the end, I only hurt the both of us. The most excruciating part about this was the dread I felt knowing if I did not accept myself, I would be forced to live the rest of my life as an empty shell of what I could become. I needed to accept who I was, but how could I if I knew I would burn for eternity just for loving someone that made me happy.
Was this some test of faith? Why can I not choose to like a different gender? Will I live the rest of my life with this anxiety? Why me? These questions and so many more were plaguing my mind and clouding my thoughts. I became distant with my family and friends, anxious about my love’s future, and terrified of my fate beyond death. I was losing sight of my thoughts, my life, and most importantly my emotions. Years passed until some day, I began to like this boy. My feelings towards him were so intense, I decided to take back my life from the cold, gripping hands of anxiety.
New and more open-minded thoughts started to take the place of the old narrow-minded beliefs that were carved into me since I was a child. Still, I could not shake the guilt I felt just for being myself, but these newer beliefs energized my brand-new way of thinking. I was born like this, if God made me, why would he make me knowing I would turn out in such a way, I was told God makes no mistakes. That singular thought is what changed my life forever. I decided for the first time in my life to stop being a slave to my thoughts and finally free myself of the shackles that kept me down and to use my wings to fly as far as I could knowing I was meant to be me. This new freedom felt so exhilarating, and not too long later I would tell my closest friends and select family members of who I really was.
I am so grateful to have overcome this obstacle and to have so many supporting friends and family members. Without them loving me for who I was, I would have never loved myself. I thank them for giving me the power to be who I was meant to be... me.
