Never fear, I'm here and I'm queer...

Hey kitty gurlz. Welcome back. So last week we talked about the dangers of social comparison in the age of social media. Most specifically we talked about how assigning greater/lesser value to the way we live our lives and the things we do can create a cycle that is ultimately SUPER DAMAGING to our authenticity and our sense of self-worth. Now that we have the ability to carefully craft a particular view or image of our lives online, this becomes even more precarious. The ability to slap a filter on everything and choose what parts of our lives are revealed through social media help us to create the illusion that everything is always great and that we never have acne (that no acne filter is MY SHIT).

I ended last week’s post with a challenge, for myself and for you. That challenge was to start flexing two very important muscles: the authenticity muscle and the courage muscle. I call them muscles because I subscribe to the idea that authenticity and courage are virtues that need practiced and built on a daily basis. We don’t just wake up one day and have an inexhaustible fount of courage, we make choices on a daily basis that either allow our courage and authenticity to grow or diminish. My hope in flexing these muscles is to start to challenge the status quo, the get more comfortable with the idea of forgetting who or what I’m “supposed” to be and getting real about who I am. To be real, it’s going so-so.

BUT ANYWHO. I also ended last week with a quote I recently read that felt like a good mantra for my pursuits. It comes from French philosopher Albert Camus who says, “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” There are some things to be said about semantics, but I ultimately really vibe with the idea of letting your own existence be a challenge to the status quo, in this case, the status quo being the idea that there are expectations for my life from society to which I must adhere. So take that world!

And that is what brings us to today’s topic: the joys of being gay. That’s right, I said it: I’M GAY! What’s that? You already knew? Everyone already knows? I’m carrying a giant rainbow flag in my profile picture? You’ve seen me shirtless on the dancefloor at the local gay bar? My parents knew from the time I was a little boy? Well…I mean…I…yea…So I’m gay, and in the past couple of months, I can’t help but feel so intensely proud of the fact that I am. Now that Pride month has come and gone, I figured it was time to spill the tea on all things queer in my life. Let’s unpack shall we?

I didn’t come out until I was 22. Like so many others, I knew from a very early age that I wasn’t the same as the other kids around me. Also like many others, I never had the words or the knowledge to really understand what was going on. And so I did what many LGBTQ+ individuals do, I played along as best I could. For me that meant getting good grades in school, getting involved in sports and after school activities, dating girls, and generally just immersing myself into the culture at large to the best of my ability. All the while I developed a deeply damaged sense of self, became depressed, and fueled what has become, at times, a crippling anxiety disorder.

It feels really important to note here that this is not the path that all LGBTQ+ youth take. I volunteer regularly with a local non-profit here in Charleston called We Are Family that provides direct services to LGBTQ+ youth. Through this work, and through experience as a teacher for several years, I have seen the other paths LGBTQ+ youth walk. Some have more courage and authenticity than I may ever have in my life. They come out at an early age and they stay out. They endure bullying and stigma and yet they stay true to themselves. There are some who have no choice but to be out. Perhaps they were outed by a friend or family member or they simply don’t possess enough of the stereotypes of their heterosexual counterparts to “pass” as straight. They try to assimilate to the mainstream culture around them, but can’t or choose not to and choose to live authentically instead. The variance in experience is vast. My point in saying all that is to recognize the privilege I had as a teen. I was able to mask enough to “pass” as straight. I was fortunate enough to do well in school. I was able to excel in sports. I was able to hide behind these things. For some LGBTQ+ youth, these privileges don’t exist and because of that, they sometimes suffer immensely at the hands of peers and the community around them.

So it took me until I was 22 to finally make the official decision to come out. Granted, I had been “ironically” going to gay bars all around Boston for several years prior and had been proclaiming “The Birdcage” as my favorite movie since I was 12, but that’s beside the point. At 22 I had just moved over 1,000 miles from Boston to Charleston, I was starting my first year of teaching special education (something I had zero experience with), I had recently developed a debilitating chronic pain disorder, and I had no fucking idea how to adult. Needless to say, 22 was nothing like Taylor Swift told me it would be, NOTHING. Except for the dressing up like hipsters part…

So there I was at 22 with the opportunity to once again “start fresh” as they say. I had started the process of questioning my sexuality while still in college and even braved a date with a very kind boy I knew, but was far from ready to come out. My fears over coming out were as varied as you might expect for someone with an anxiety disorder, but I knew that in starting Teach for America in a totally new setting with all new people, I would have the opportunity to redefine myself if I so chose. And so I tried.

Fast forward to the summer after year one of teaching. My chronic pain had become almost unbearable. I had spent my year working 80+ hrs. a week between teaching, lesson planning, tutoring, coaching, getting my master’s, and oh, yea, trying to live a normal human life. As you might imagine, I had devoted very little time to my personal life and in looking back, I think the strain of living in this half-out space started to really take it’s toll on me. It was that summer that I sought out my therapist, Kate. I can remember the first time I called her; I was sitting on the back landing of my apartment downtown. I was shaking. Therapy is for people with serious problems, I thought to myself. I don’t need therapy, I thought. I can manage this, I thought. HA! Hilarious jokes. When she asked why I was interested in therapy, I told her about my experience with chronic pain and feelings of depression, vaguely mentioning that there were “other things” going on that would be worth discussing (LOLZ…”other things”) and we booked our first appointment for a week or so later.

It took about a month or two of weekly sessions for me to tell Kate that in addition to struggling with chronic pain and depression, I was also struggling with my sexuality, issues with intimacy, body-image issues…the list goes on and on. It was in that moment, that we were actually able to start the work of getting better. Admitting really is the first step, folks. As it turns out, I was NOT okay with being gay and was having some MAJOR intimacy issues that were all fueling and being fueled by my depression and chronic pain. Shocking, I know. Having grown up Catholic in a small town in Pennsylvania, no one would have expected these things to transpire…NOT!

Anywho, I worked with Kate weekly for about 6 months. As the universe would have it, in that time, there were a few things happening that were aligning in such a way that I knew it was time to come out. For one, my family dynamics were shifting. My maternal grandmother’s health had been fading for months prior, but seriously declined in the timeframe until she ultimately passed. In that space of mourning, my family and I took a real hard look at our family dynamic and our relationships and started to evaluate the ways in which we had failed to be there for one another. In doing so, we made a renewed commitment to each other moving forward to be present and involved and honest. At the same time, I was undergoing several surgeries and procedures in Charleston without my family around, which although it may sound dramatic, reminded me of the fragility of my own life and my desire to live authentically. And lastly, I had come to a place where I recognized that living a lie was tearing me apart, that living inauthentically was fueling and would continue to fuel my depression and anxiety, unless I committed to making a change.

And so I started the process. First, I came out to my sister and cousin while they were visiting me in Charleston. From there, my sister helped me to plan and execute my coming out to my parents. I wrote them both letters over the course of the Thanksgiving holiday that year and left them for my sister to give after I was gone. I have always found writing to be my preferred medium of communication. It gives me the freedom to think, explain, revise, and in general be very intentional about my words. I wanted my parents to have the space to process without the pressure of me being in front of them, and I also wanted to be as far away as possible in case things went poorly.

In typical fashion for my parents, they reacted to my coming out with resounding love and support, an action I never take for granted. They explained that they had suspected for a while and they told me they were sorry that I felt I had to hide for so long. I mean, are you fucking kidding me? Could I have asked for more? I’m not sure I could have. My parents have been, for the entirety of my life, a constant source of support. There have been many times in my life where I thought otherwise, but in my adult life I have come to realize that my parents have always stepped aside and let me live the life that makes me happy, that makes me fulfilled. They have allowed me to grow and develop and have given me nothing but love in return. I honestly don’t thank them enough for this. That love and support is a gift that many LGBTQ+ individuals don’t get. They are incredible parents.

So. I came out. Woo! I did it. Hooray! Goodbye anxiety and depression, I thought. Goodbye feelings of insecurity and lack of authenticity, I thought. Hello best life, I thought. I will ride unicorns to work now, I thought. What’s that? None of that happened? Coming out doesn’t just make everything in your life instantaneously better? Oh…well…

So coming out did change my life, of course, but the reality is, this was just the start. Coming out was step one in a literal one billion-step process of coming to terms with who I am. And so for the next few years, I continued to work with Kate on a weekly basis. We talked intimacy issues, we talked dating, we talked living authentically, we talked managing chronic pain and depression, we talked managing anxiety, yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah. It’s talk therapy, we talk a lot. In short, we started the work of delving into the parts of myself that store negative self-image, internalized homophobia, fear of intimacy, etc. etc. Those discussions are whole other posts in and of themselves.

Fast forward to today. SO MUCH HAS CHANGED. I have been in therapy for over three years now. It has also been about 2-3 years since I came out. And honestly I wanted to write this post so I could reflect on how much has changed in terms of my level of self-acceptance in that short period of time. In one of my last sessions, Kate remarked, “Adam, consider where you were just two years ago, you were NOT okay with being gay and you were deeply closeted.” At the time, I was sitting in front of her with painted fingernails, wearing a Trans Love cut off shirt, having just come from a Charleston Pride Board meeting. Right. Things have changed.

There is a general feeling I’ve had, just in the past few months alone, and it has taken me a while to really pinpoint what that feeling is, but the conclusion I’ve come to is this: comfort. For the first time in my entire 26 years of life, I am starting to feel comfortable in my own identity. I would say comfortable in my own skin, but there’s that lingering chronic musculoskeletal pain thing that actually hurts pretty bad, but that’s beside the point. I have realized that I have moved into a space where I not only feel comfortable in my identity as a gay man, but I feel proud of that identity. In just two or three years, I’ve gone from deeply closeted with a touch of internalized homophobia to a space where I can honestly say that being gay is one my favorite things about myself! Isn’t that crazy?!?!

There are a few things I think were very crucial in helping me get to this point and I’m tired of writing straight narrative now, so I’m gonna go ahead and move to bullet points now:

1. Therapy – Duh. As discussed in many of my posts, therapy has changed my life in so many ways. Kate has helped me to come to terms with my identity, deal with chronic pain, manage my depression/anxiety, and generally just handle all the chaos of life. Without her, coming out and the progress towards self-acceptance would not by possible.

2. Working at LAS – Once I came out to my family, I still had to remain at least partially closeted in the school district. In part, I feared for my job, and in part, I feared backlash from other teachers, students, and parents. A mildly homophobic administration also added to the problem. In contrast, when I started working at LAS, I found myself in an office where almost all of the men are gay. For the first time in my life, I spent my day surrounding by other openly gay men. The personal and professional relationships I have built with my coworkers have done so much more for me than I think they will ever know. On a personal level, I have gained friends and mentors and on a professional level, I have seen what it is to be open and be a successful professional adult. Both are invaluable experiences.

3. Getting involved in my community – I have always loved volunteering and once I came out, I thought there would be no better way to delve into the LGBTQ+ community in Charleston than through volunteering. Over the years, I have worked with We Are Family, a local non-profit that supports LGBTQ+ youth, I started a PRIDE group at my school, I joined the Board of Directors for Charleston Pride, and so on. Getting in involved in the gay community has been another truly formative experience. There is just so much value in meeting others with whom you can share your stories and struggles. It’s all about building that connection and remembering you’re not alone in this. Not only that, I have been able, through this work, to see the beauty in the diversity of our community here in Charleston, which has all only helped to strengthen my own sense of identity.

4. Reading gay literature – I have an English degree, believe it or not, and so it made sense to delve into the realm of queer literature. The summer after my second year of teaching, I committed myself to reading as much gay literature as possible. I started with Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin and moved through such epics as Benjamin Alire Saenz’s Dante and Aristotle Discover the Secrets of the Universe and Kristin Cronn-Mills Beautiful Music for Ugly Children. I read more books that summer than any other before. There it was, that representation and understanding I had been seeking. There they were in words in books, the very thoughts and struggles and concerns and issues and questions that had been running through my mind for years. I highly recommend that everyone take time to read queer literature. It’s good for the soul.

5. Dating - It hasn't all been pretty, but of course, putting myself out there and dating has been super important. As I've previously discussed, one the most powerful belief systems I have had to challenge in my life is the one where I believed I would never find anyone. And so good or bad, dating has of course helped me to not only challenge that belief system, but also come to understand myself and my relational capacity better.

6. Rupaul’s Drag Race – YAAAAAS, henny. Rupual changed my motherfucking life. I finally started watching about a year ago, and have never been the same since. I can write pages about my feeling for this show and probably will sometime, but with a tagline like, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?” how could I not love it. Rupaul’s Drag Race is queer culture permeating the mainstream and making itself known. It’s a space for self-acceptance and self-expression, and it is the most entertaining show I have ever seen in my life. More to come on this at a later date.

Phew. Ok. So that was a lot. A lot of rambling too. Not gonna lie, I can barely even remember where I started with all of this. But I do remember how I want to end. I am so fucking proud to be gay. And it is incredible to feel this way when just a few years ago, I was deeply closeted. Moreover, this pride feels so genuinely rooted in the work of self-love, identity, and authenticity. I have put in the time, y’all. I have WORKED to understand and accept my identity and it feels so good to see and feel that work paying off.

In light of this election and the current political climate, I think that my pride has only grown. I honestly think that is why I identify so much with the quote from Albert Camus. I feel like my queerness is a challenge to the status quo. I feel that living my life authentically as an openly gay man is an act of rebellion. And it feels FUCKING FABULOUS. Nothing gives me more joy than the idea that my very existence challenges the climate at large. I feel so committed to being as authentically queer as possible in this lifetime and for the first time ever, I feel excited at that prospect. I am ready to listen, learn, engage, grow, and expand in my understanding of queer identity and I could not be more excited.

Thanks for listening, y’all.

Peace, love, and pride…

Adam