acceptance or something like it
From being rejected to being accepted as my parents queer child
This past summer, I was the featured storyteller at an event themed around coming out and “Becoming” hosted at this adorable little place called Pauline’s Tea and Apothecary. They don’t have wi-fi. They expect you to relax and connect. I love it. There, I shared part of my coming out (or being brought out) story and, upon reflection, it was really moving to see where my coming out story started and where we are now 11 years later.
I shared that, honestly, I didn’t know I was queer when I was younger. It wasn’t until I was actively pursued by a woman in my mid-20’s that it opened that door for me. More accurately, it made the door exist where there wasn’t one before. I didn’t worry about being in the closet because I didn’t know there was one. My default was heterosexuality. Up until then, my partners had all been cismen. The expectation was marriage and kids, and I didn’t fret too much about it at the time - I just had to find the right guy who wasn’t like terrible men I had known and seen growing up. This is known as compulsory heterosexuality aka comphet which is the theory that heterosexuality is assumed and enforced upon people by a patriarchal, allonormative, and heteronormative society. It doesn’t allow room for exploration or questioning. It gives you a script and you’re expected to follow it. And up until my college years, I was following it. The plot was set.
But queerness had other plans.
I shared a poem at Pauline’s about an exchange between my mom and I, when she first questioned/called me out about my queerness. It’s a rough poem for me. It was a hard time where I had to reassure myself and be reassured by my friends that I was still a good person. My mom didn’t take my queerness well. She accused me of a lot of
