OCTOBER 11, 2002

 

For those not in the know, and I suspect that is most of you, October 11 is National Coming Out Day.  As such, I will take this opportunity on Friday, October 11, 2002, to tell you, our valued reader, that yes, I am gay. 

Some of you know this because I’ve already told you.  Some of you may have been suspecting this, because I haven’t dated girls in about 5 years.  Or some of you may be in complete shock.  I hope few of you fit in the last category.  But if so, please read the essay below and know that I understand what you may be thinking or feeling.  I sincerely hope that no one becomes uncomfortable about this, and I encourage anyone to communicate with me (email, phone, in person) to express any questions or thoughts about this.  First, I want to share with you a short history and the reasons I am taking this step today.

 

My Story

I suppose I’ve always known I was different than other boys, even from the earliest age.  I had the idea that maybe I was gay when I was in 10th grade.  Actually, I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “gay”, so I just considered myself “different”.  Even though sophomore year was the earliest point I opened my mind to the possibility that I might not be straight, it’s not as though I weren’t constantly reminded exactly how “gay” I was.  Through the duration of elementary school and junior high, constant taunts and bullying were thrown my way.  I think this was due to :

1. being non-athletic
2. being ungraceful
3. being focused on academics more than my peers
4. having a name so close to the commercial product “Ben-Gay”

Ya, that last one was a common nickname throughout grade school, along with “nerd”, “fag”, and “queer”.  I was always the outcast, the one who didn’t play soccer with the other 5th grade boys, but sat alone in the sandbox, imagining a better life for myself.  Yes, plenty of painful memories there. 

So, I learned at an early age that being “gay” was bad.  (I put “gay” in quotes because while I don’t think 5th graders in 1988 used the insults “gay” and ”fag” to refer to homosexuality, they remain the same words and carry the same negative emotional impact through today) Thusly, I decided to wait until college to start “sorting things out”.  I didn’t know what exactly “sorting things out” meant, but I knew I couldn’t work through anything until I got out of high school.  None of the three high schools I went to remotely approached an environment considered “open minded” or “tolerant”.  So during the interim between early 10th grade and college, I focused on academics, band, and extra-curricular activities to keep myself occupied and to keep my mind off of my questionable sexual orientation.  To keep myself believing that I was “normal”, I often rationed my thoughts as a phase, something that would pass in time.  Whenever I looked at guys, I convinced myself that it was akin to looking at art.  “Just because you look at Michelangelo’s David, that does not make you gay” I thought.  Same thing with looking at guys; looking at them had no impact on my sexuality.  And the “wait until college” plan would have worked beautifully, until one major wrench was thrown in to my quest …

I fell in love with a girl.

Yes, I was in love with a girl.  Subsequently, we dated from the end of my junior year in high school to the end of my junior year in college.  Four glorious years.  Well, at least the first three were pretty good.  Then in the middle of that third year, in 1997, I turned 21.  Now, for me, birthdays are always a major time of reflection.  This one seemed to be important if only because it’s such a major milestone in every person’s life.  So, upon my 21st birthday, my mental and emotional states went south for several years…I dove head first in to a major depression. 

There were several reasons for the depression, the largest being my confusing sexual orientation.  At the same time, I grew to dislike my Management Information Systems major, and wished to change to architecture (which could be possible through five additional years of student loans tagged on to the then-current three years of student loans).  Working for a boss whose mood swings change faster than Texas weather didn’t help.  My car was breaking every other week.  I was living at home with my parents and had no money.  My daily schedule had become so routinized that there was no excitement in my life.  I had lost contact with most, if not all, of my friends.  I was dating a girl when I wanted to be dating a guy.  And as our relationship grew more and more strained, I realized I was hurting her, which went against every fiber of my being.  I only hated myself more for hurting another person.  This only added fuel to the ever-growing fire of depression.  And what made all this exponentially worse was believing that none of these were able to be changed for the better. 

In addition to depression, my 21st birthday also ushered in the much ballyhooed right to purchase alcohol.  Coincidentally enough, I got a call from my good friend Justin whom I hadn’t seen since we went to Houston’s DCI Competition in July.  So we start hanging out again and I supplied us both with a steady supply of alcohol, usually rum.  In return, he introduces me to the fine art of drinking yourself silly until you vomit. 

But the depression must have been obvious to him.  One night in particular he kept asking me what was wrong.  He kept asking, over and over, every 30 minutes or so.  He wouldn’t give up.  I would answer with an unconvincing “Nothing’s wrong.”  His response was always, “OK, I’ll just have to keep asking until you tell me.”  And the irony here is that I really wanted to tell him.  I wanted to tell someone, anyone!  But telling them would be admitting to myself that I was gay.  And the idea of being gay was still not kosher in my world.  So finally, after much badgering (and much drinking too), I chose to tell Justin in his mother’s game room that I was “questioning my sexuality.”  On November 15, 1997, I “came out” for the first time. 

Let me interject one thing here.  My inability to admit being gay was not because of overly moralistic preachings from my parents or a church.  The mental blockade that prevented me from admitting my homosexuality had more to do with social expectations of being straight and the above mentioned torment during my youth. We rarely attended church while I grew up, and when we did, I never paid attention, choosing instead to scribble on the donation cards.  Moreover, my parents never said one negative thing about gay people.  And for that, I thank them greatly. 

After the big announcement, Justin was incredibly supportive.  He said that everything would be ok, and that he would still be my friend no matter what.  The next few meetings with Justin were a little awkward for me.  He would delicately introduce the topic in to conversation, asking if I had given more thought to what we talked about.  I would always give a non-response or change the subject.  I didn’t want to think about it; I wanted it to go away.  Finally, he stopped bringing it up, and on the outside, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I chose to remain “closeted”, because it was easy and I knew things would have to get worse before they got better.  My life was a comfortable routine.  This perpetuated my depression.  The depression led to erratic behavior.  I dreaded waking up everyday.  I withdrew from any semblance of a social life I had.  I spent hours crying in my room.  Committing suicide entered my thoughts on a routine basis. 

Mind you, I was still dating a girl at this time.  But she wisely broke up with me in the summer of 1998, or as I refer to it, the “Summer of No Smiles”.  It’s amazing how quickly one can spiral downward.  I couldn’t get a job (because no one would want to hire a depressed loon like me).  I got dumped (which was both painful and a bit relieving).  Justin had to buy me beer because I never had money.  Honestly, I never smiled once that summer. 

As school progressed, I began seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  Soon, I would graduate, enter the work force, make money and move out on my own.  For the second time in my life, I decided that after graduation, I would start “sorting things out”.  With a projected graduation date of December 1999, and two semesters left, I felt my mental health improving.  Suicidal thoughts remained, but were weaker and recurred less.  Yes, things were finally starting to move in the right direction.

In fact, I thought my improvement was going so well by the summer of 1999, that I would talk to Justin again, this time, fully acknowledging that I was gay.  I would begin my journey out of the closet, this time permanently and with no worries about hurting anyone else.  So I decided on July 12, 1999, that I would “come out” to Justin after work.  I arrived at his office, but before I could mention the need to talk with him later that night, he told me he was being transferred to Denver in a few months. 

My world shattered.

Not only was I going to remain closeted, but I was losing the best friend I’ve ever had.  My life turned 180 degrees and I again became deeply depressed.  Bizarre outbursts were not uncommon for me, even in public.  As the time neared for him to move, I got worse and worse.  I cried.  A lot.  I’d cry driving home after work.  Or going to see him.  Or just getting gas.  But I withdrew from my friends and decided that I would again deal with everything after graduation. 

Justin left for Denver on October 1, the day before my birthday.  I spent the rest of the semester studying, working, and interviewing for post-college employment.  Needless to say, I never made a good impression in interviews; my depression was too obvious.  So I graduated.  I wasn’t thrilled about it, as I had no job, except for my lowly paid position at UT.  I was just happy that I would no longer accumulate student loan debts.  But I kept my UT job and moved to my own apartment close to campus.  I was on my own for the first time in my life and I felt I had a chance to finally be happy.

I didn’t keep in touch with Justin, because it would be too painful to talk to him.  And besides, I really wanted to come out to him, but not on the phone; I had to do it in person.  Finally, I decided that a letter will do, and on Friday, April 14, 2000, I wrote out a lengthy letter telling him that I was gay, detailing my struggle and apologizing for previous behaviors.  Ironically, before I could mail it, he showed up in town unannounced.  That weekend, I gave him that letter and we ironed out many of the wrinkles that had developed in our relationship.  One month later, I came out to 5 people in one week’s time, including my ex-girlfriend, Justin’s girlfriend and others.  All the responses were positive.  I had never felt so relieved in all my life. 

Since then, my life has had its ups and downs.  Justin moved back to Austin, but my ex-girlfriend moved to Georgia with her new boyfriend (now husband).  My coming out process has slowed a bit, as I’m still not “out” to my parents or to some friends.  I hope this letter is changing the friends part of that, and I plan on telling my parents very soon. 

I’ve made a lot more friends, both gay and straight.  That wouldn’t have happened while I was in the closet.  I’ve also become significantly more comfortable with being gay.  I’m no longer afraid of it, or afraid of what others think.  And I think that is a strong catalyst to make positive changes in my life.  I’m the happiest I have been in a very long while.  My mental health is the best it’s ever been, only because I am honest with myself as to who I am.  I’ve stopped lying to myself, and I’ve never felt better.  And while I’ve had these many positives, I’m still the same person you’ve always known.  I still love Texas Longhorn Football, Drum Corps International, Kentucky Basketball, and Melissa’s Mexican food.  I’m the same person you’ve always known; now you just know a little more about me. 

 

My Reasons For Sharing

There are two groups to whom I’m addressing this essay.  The first group is one of friends and acquaintances to whom I’ve not formally “come out”.  The second group consists of friends who know I’m gay, but don’t know the history leading up to today.  Hopefully, this essay addresses questions and concerns held by both groups. 

Some may be asking why I haven’t told them yet.  The simple answer is that it’s a difficult topic to just bring up in conversation.  I sincerely apologize for not doing this in person, but there are simply too many people to tell.  I wish I could do this face-to-face, but it would take such a long time to tell everyone who needs to know.  In addition, each “coming out” experience is so emotionally draining and nerve-wracking; I’m sort of tired of doing it.  So my solution was to pour all these thoughts and feelings in to one comprehensive essay and then share it with you. 

There were several motivations for sharing this with everyone.  The first is that I want everyone to know about me.  While I don’t believe my sexuality defines me (just as it doesn’t define anyone else), I do believe it is an integral part of me, and should be shared with those to which I am close.  The second motivation is one of mental health.  It is fortunate that this year’s National Coming Out Day coincides with a point in my life where I believe coming out and sharing my story will help me move through some of these issues.  Perhaps a close analogy could be one of purging.  By putting all of this in writing, I am able to document these feelings, examine them, learn from them, and then move on to new and better times in my life.   Writing this essay certainly brought smiles, laughter and tears to my face numerous times.

I hope that I lose no friends or loved ones (those are one-in-the-same, for I truly love all my friends) because of the information I’ve shared with you.  But if after reading this, you wish to discontinue our relationship, then that will hurt me a bit, but I understand.  I sincerely wish you a good and happy life, and I hope that one day we can work through this and reach at least an amicable state in our relationship.  To everyone else, I only hope that what I've shared with you strengthens our relationship.  It has with others, so I know that it can with us.

If you’ve made it this far, then I thank you for reading this essay.  Please know that I love every one of you and wish you the same happiness that I've achieved for myself.

--ben

 

Acknowledgements 

I have to thank two people; without them, you would not be reading this today. 

The first is my friend Chase, who has shown me it’s possible to be openly gay and happy, a combination I long thought unattainable.  Not only can I be happy, but I deserve to be happy, just as every other person, gay, straight, or otherwise, deserves to be happy.  I’ve learned that I can dream bigger than I ever thought possible, and that achieving those dreams is within my reach. 

The second is Justin, my best friend in the entire world.  Justin was the first person to whom I told my “dark secret” five long years ago, and he has been nothing but supportive every day since.  From day one, he has helped me work through my pain, knowing when to ask questions, when to crack a joke, when to let me win at pool, or knowing that sometimes silence speaks more than words.  He has seen my worst days and some of my best.  He sticks up for gay people when others will not, and he exemplifies the allies that gay people need to live free of hate and prejudice.  If not for him, then today a headstone would be the only physical evidence that I existed on this planet, for I would have joined the angels many years ago.  I will never be able to repay him for everything he has done, and words don’t exist to express my unending thanks and love. 

 

ETC.

More information about National Coming Out Day can be found at:
http://www.hrc.org/ncop/ncod/index.asp

Read others’ stories about coming out at:
http://www.comingoutstories.com

I welcome your questions or comments and hope to open a dialogue for anyone who cares to discuss this.  My contact information is below.

Email: Ben.Bond@bus.utexas.edu
Phone: 512.565.8289

Mailing Address:

P.O. Box 7061
Austin, TX 78713