It was late July 1990. I was preparing to return to school after three years and decided to participate in an event called The Forum (formerly EST training). For those who've never heard of either, it's best described as New Age meets a lot of other ages. At least for me. Whatever you want to call it, I wanted to make sure that I was prepared to return to college; after three years, and two previous failed attempts, I was nervous. That was my plan - that was what I wanted to get out of it.
Everything was going fine until the facilitator started a
visualisation. Imagine that you're afraid of the person next to
you... the row next to
you... and so on, until you're afraid of the whole world. And I felt a fear that I did not understand. Then she reversed it - imagine the whole world is afraid of you. And while the fear for most everyone else vanished, mine grew stronger. It was then that I began to
realise that I was afraid of myself - and 25 years of denying my sexuality came bubbling to the surface.
Apparently, I was not the only one. Two other people in the group also came out. This was a group of about 150 people - strangers, yes, but also friends. That night I wrestled with the next most difficult question - should I tell my mother (my father had died in 1986). The people I'd become closest to told me I should - to do otherwise would be a lie. When I got home that night, I told her; it was not the best performance, despite all the drama. I cried and she cried; she said she loved me, I said I never doubted that. Four weeks later I moved to Austin to return to school.
Fighting the Demons in the Closet
And slid back into the closet. Not difficult, given that I'd only just opened the door and looked out. What I'd seen outside of it was okay, but I knew what was in it already. I got involved in the University Democrats and Amnesty International (AI) and sort of forgot school. The last weekend in October, right before Halloween, AI had a statewide conference in San Antonio, at which Eugene Harrington (an AIDS activist in Houston) was the keynote speaker. Listening to him speak about
AIDS, about homophobia, and about fear in general made me
realise I had no business staying in the closet. If I could wear an anti-death penalty t-shirt in public in Texas, I could tell people I was queer!
The following week I attended my first LesBiGay student meeting. I was scared. Even going inside the meeting room made me nervous - and I kept wondering who would see me inside. Of course, I had my eye on a guy I'd seen sitting at this group's table. And so began my
coming out process - meeting people and making friends. Learning who Harvey Milk was (yep, a Jewish Queer, and I had to be told). Finding out why I loved Barbara Streisand so much. And so on.
Testing the Waters ...
Over the winter break, me and a friend decided to visit some of the
gay bars in Dallas. Although he had been out for some time, neither of us had ever been to a
gay bar. The dancers were fun, but I don't drink  or smoke or dance, so it lost its appeal fairly quickly. But I got a shirt - I wish I still had it - that told everyone else I was
gay. It took Ann Richard's getting elected as Governor for me to wear it at her inauguration. Under another t-shirt. Despite my growing confidence, and knowing being out with my friends from the University Democrats would not be a problem, I held back.
Until I saw, without knowing what it was, the Rainbow Flag on the south lawn of the Capitol. I started talking with a man I'd never met that I felt very attracted to, though who also made me very nervous. He had no idea who I was, or even that I was
gay. After talking for a bit, I took the t-shirt off. I got his name and number and gave him mine. I think he called me once.
... Then Diving in Head First!
February came and the Gay & Lesbian Student Association needed to prepare for LesbiGay Awareness Week. Stupid me, I volunteered to coordinate the monster. By this time, I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I would not wish that job on anyone, but I nonetheless had a great time. And despite being afraid that the event would be a total flop, everybody that attended the different events had a great time. Managerial training by FIRE.
In March of 1991 came the March on Austin, a statewide march that was part celebration - Glen Maxey had just recently been elected. After the March I approached my mom again. This time with more information, and with a book "Now That You Know." That Sunday morning when I saw her, she told me she would not read the book. When I called her that night, she'd already read 50 pages. Within 6 months she had joined PFLAG/Dallas - at the time, it was just a Lesbian couple trying to find members. Within a year she was an officer and helping to get the
organisation incorporated; today the group is one of the fastest growing PFLAG groups in the country, thanks in large part to MY
MOM! And she's been marching in Dallas' Gay Pride march - the first one without me - the rest I've been right by her side. My mom's "coming out" story could probably take another five pages (actually, it does - check out the 7/16/95 issue of The Dallas Morning News); suffice it to say she is now OUT to everyone she knows. A bunch of people she's never met. And continues to push the envelope every day.
Hey, Everybody - the Water's Just Fine
I've been married to a wonderful man for almost seven years (we've been together for almost eight). My Jewish mother came to our Pagan hand-fasting (Faerie, actually - but that's another story). Actually, she came with one of her best friends and the woman who has been our family's maid for over forty years. Steve (my husband/lover/spouse) and I were - and are - treated just like a married couple by my family and friends. We received wedding gifts from members of our family and our friends. It is an event I will remember for the rest of my life, for it was a day filled with love. And that, to me, is what coming out is all about. Love.
I guess that about wraps up my coming out story. Twenty-five years to figure out I was Queer. Three months to figure out I could not stay in the closet. And another three months to nuke the door so I could never even think about ever going back there. Please try this at home - I am not a professional and this was not on a closed track. Yeah, it sounds like I'm lucky and blessed. But my story does not have be so unique or special. Think about it: we may only be 10% of the population, but our parents represent another 20%. Grandparents another 40%. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins,
nephews, nieces...well, you get the picture. Coming out frightens the Radical Reich because it is the simplest and most powerful tool we have, and they have no
defence against it.
P.S. The guy I met in January 1991 on the Capital lawn? Ran into him again during LesBiGay awareness week that April. We've been together ever since!
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GayCruz
- Coming Out
