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I was about to go to bed, but I would much rather answer this question first. partly because I’m in a rambling/talkative mood and partly because I’ve never written it out in full before. Beware, it’s a long-ass post and I apologise if it feels disjointed, but I haven’t edited anything… so please read on if you would be so kind as to hear me out.

Quoting an earlier post of mine, “I used to be what most people would term a “happy-clappy Christian” (Pentecostalism). I was absolutely naive and when the time came that I departed because of differences in opinion over sexuality and other matters, it was a bad experience for me.” I had been a christian all my life, up until the age of ‘round about 12/13 which is when I began to have doubts and begin to question. Ironically enough, I was told that you can’t go to hell before this (you have to make a decision when you reach the age of 13, that’s why babies don’t go to hell) - to which I now say a massive FUCK YOU, because that is hypocritical bullshit as it means there’s no need for childhood indoctrination whatsoever. But I digress…

I became aware of my sexual wants and gradually realised they weren’t normal/natural (in my eyes at the time). These mainly became evident through having to get changed for PE and noticing other guys’ bodies/musculature etc, which is inevitably how my fetish of locker-rooms came to be. I took on a girlfriend for 8 months as a sort of cover/experiment to test myself, which I regret immensely as I ended up hurting her (thankfully, she forgave me and we are still great friends today). Another of my greatest and still best friends was the first person I confessed my fears/disgust with myself to, and she helped me work through things on christian terms (which was absolutely fine with me at the time).

So I struggled with my budding homosexuality, while I was looked up to by the younger boys in the youth group I was a joint-leader of, so I constantly felt like a complete hypocrite. Those were the darkest times in my life, when I turned to god for help (pleading to it in the depths of the night) and nothing ever changed. I was so thoroughly convinced of the evil within me that I once visualised a scaly writhing demon coursing through my body as the embodiment of my homosexuality (that I, of course, had created within my own mind); that’s how deeply embedded my religious/dogmatic fervour was.

Gradually, I came to see that god was not responding to anything I asked, nor providing any options/other people to help me change myself. I became increasingly disillusioned with the church and its extremely exclusive attitudes/closed-off fanaticism that I began to go less and less. Because my parents still assumed I went, I hopped in my car of a friday night and went to the library. There, I borrowed books on all manner of subjects; sometimes some Stephen King, sometimes books on teen sexuality, sometimes my old favourite novels that always made me feel safe and at home. In any case, I slowly felt the clutches of my youth group/church melting away as I began to realise that I had actual freedom and could do what I wanted with my life. These nights, spent alone with books in my car in the dark, were among the happiest of my life thus far.

On the night of our year 12 formal, I was sharing a hotel room with my straight male best friend. And no, it’s nothing like that, but I had decided that I was going to come out to him halfway through our conversation that evening. The formal was a piece of shit and we didn’t want to go out afterwards, so we just went back to the room and chatted long into the night. Finally, I was internally battling myself over whether or not to speak and I just couldn’t say the words. he later commented that my legs was shaking and my hands were restless and fidgety as well (which I have no recollection of, so lost was I in my own thoughts). Finally, I managed to spurt out “…and seeing as I’m gay…” in relation to our current topic. Thankfully, as I had sort of known he would, he was completely fine with it and reassured me that our whole group was accepting of gay people. Which was, how can I put this… a huge fucking relief.

I started out in the workforce in the christmas of 2008, immediately after finishing school, and I worked my ass off. My new boss was impressed with me and decided to keep me on as a permanent casual; being a lesbian herself, she helped me work through so many of my issues and always supported me/listened when I needed to talk. On top of that, my workmates always encouraged me to be myself and not to conform to anyone’s ideals of what I should be. I was such a shy person until I started out in the workplace; it forced me to interact with people which, even on a superficial level, allowed me to express myself. No-one had really listened to me at my youth group because, when I spoke, I felt like I was saying someone else’s words instead of my own. So I owe a lot of my growth and development to my workplace.

Subsequently, I began to go out to the city more. I was introduced to friends of friends who challenged what I thought and made me consider my perspective/explain it in detail, rather than just accepting what I said at face value. While I was confronted by this at first, it ultimately prepared me for what I would have to face when I officially came out. Plus, one of these new male friends gave me my first kiss ever; we were sitting on the lounge, alone in the room and we were just together. My heart was pounding so fast and loud, and he noticed, and our eyes connected, and it was one of the greatest moments of my life.

Then, over the past year or two, having experienced sexual activities taught me what I am in regards to sexuality; I then accepted I was/am gay and this lifted a huge weight off my chest, and allowed me to go about reinventing myself (through purging all remaining religious influences in my mind, even though I occasionally gets pangs of guilt that I have adequately learned to suppress). However, I accidentally left a few things lying around the house (notes I had made, some text porn I printed out and forgot about… :S) and these were found and investigated by my parents. To say the least, my father printed out the ‘ex-homosexuals’ page from fucking conservapedia (yes, that actually exists) and my mother got her prayer group going. As far as I’m concerned, coming out is supposed to be an act committed by the gay individual themselves, but it was partially my fault for not being more careful. Nonetheless, I’m glad it happened like that, because I had absolutely no idea how to break it to my parents.

For my final year 12 essay (topic is self-chosen, 4000 words), I investigated the biological determinants of sexual orientation and how strongly these impact on sexuality in regards to nature vs. nurture debate. Naturally, as in most essays of a similar variety, I came to the conclusion there are a number of factors that contribute to sexuality, none of which can be specified the sole factor that determines sexuality. I had hidden the essay from my parents as I was afraid of their reaction, but finally summoned up the pseudo-courage to give my parents the essay to read, then I went out before they could react. I came back and they had prepared questions for me. I was not prepared, which meant I was shaky and nervous (as I had been the whole time I was out); thankfully, they accused me with a lot of generalisations and stereotypes so I was able to deflect the majority of the barrage.

Perhaps the most insulting thing of all, and I will draw to a close with this because holy fuck look how long this post is, my mother invited my ex-pastor around for a conference. Essentially, he told me I was possessed by demons, that sexuality has absolutely no root in biology (even though he admitted to not having read anything on the subject), that homosexuality is the “sin that we hate, but we still love the sinner”, and that I basically needed to be exorcised (he went on to share a harrowing story about an ‘ex-gay’ in the church who he had exorcised, in such horrible terms that it completely mortified me how calmly he spoke of it). I politely allowed him to finish before I got the fuck out of there and never spoke to him voluntarily again. Eventually, I severed ties with everyone at my old church, apart from the brilliant people who stood by me during tough times and became disgusted with the way the church handled itself (especially since people spread nasty rumours about me after I never went back, most of which I still don’t know).

Nowadays, my mother is convinced that I am not gay, because I don’t “act/seem gay” (she told me not to have a limp wrist when I was about 8, but would never explain why) and because she just doesn’t believe I know what I’m talking about. I told her that I cannot say “I love you” back to her, even though deep down I do (but only as a child loves his mother, not as a person loves another person), until she says “I accept you” which she blatantly refuses to say. My father is much more laid-back in regards to religion and understands the frustration/partial hatred I have with my mother’s small-minded/uneducated/uninformed views on the subject, although I’m still quite sure he doesn’t think I am either. But I really do appreciate him, because he will always listen to me even if I’m irate and swearing (swearing is just not done in our household) and try to respond with regard to my feelings.

Occasionally, I have to deal with insensitive homophobia from bigoted idiots but, for the most part, I have been relatively persecution-free. which actually makes me feel kind of bad, because I hate how certain people are targeted because of their location/dress sense/mannerisms; I’m not ‘straight-acting’ per se, but not everyone who sees me initially thinks I’m gay. I am a firm believer in finding out whether someone is gay before assuming they are, regardless of any kind of indicators. I dress how I dress, I walk how I walk, I listen to my music how I like it, I have guilty pleasures, I speak my mind sometimes, I defend people I love, I go out on the weekend, I fantasise, I eat and sleep (occasionally), I drive myself places… all of that is just me, none of that necessarily makes me gay. The thing that identifies me as gay is simply that I am attracted to people of the same sex and not to those of the opposite sex. I will not hide or be ashamed of my sexuality any longer, as it feels as natural to me as being straight feels to those who are heterosexual.

Wow.

So that took so much longer to write than I anticipated. I expect I left out some details here and there, which I apologise for (though only three people on tumblr know me personally/in real life). I hope you found it interesting reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it out because I’ve never actually it before. oh, and the male best friend I mentioned earlier is Matt; he actually took parts of my coming out story and adapted it into a piece of writing that makes me so fucking glad that I know him. He is just an amazing person, full stop.

What makes this more epic is that I listened to the entirety of the V For Vendetta soundtrack while I was writing this, so I feel it’s appropriate to end with a quote from the masterfully brilliant movie:

“Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch, but one. An inch. It is small and it is fragile and it is the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must NEVER let them take it from us. I hope that whoever you are, you escape this place. I hope that the worlds turns, and that things get better. But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you, I love you. With all my heart, I love you.” -Valerie 

I love you all.