Two Simple Words

“I’m gay.”

Probably the most difficulty two words I’ve ever had to say, the meaning behind them so overwhelming to my born-and-raised Evangelical Christian mind. I know what some of you are already thinking: how is coming out a small moment in my life? And you’re right. Overall, it was far from small or fleeting, but maybe it shouldn't be such a big deal. If the world were more open and inclusive, if people didn't just assume everyone were straight or cis, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Regardless, this isn't actually a story about my coming out, per se. In fact, the first time I said those words wasn’t actually the first time I came out to anyone. Honestly, it wasn’t even the second time.

You see, my first coming out occurred with my mom when I was about 23 years old. But again, I didn’t come out by saying the words. Instead, I sat there crying while my mom asked me questions after I hinted at the topic. I simply nodded when she asked, bursting further into gut-wrenching sobs. I didn’t say those words because I couldn’t. And a similar situation occurred the second time I came out, this time to my stepmom who I also led to ask me because I couldn’t bring myself to say the words aloud. She was supportive and convinced me to tell my dad the same night. THAT was the first time I said those words aloud to anyone; I was 24 years old and it was over a year after I had come out to my mom and over a decade after I had identified that label for myself.

I sat on the couch adjacent to my dad. My stepmom sat next to him for emotional support. Anxiety washed over me, and I started crying. Blubbering really. That same gut wrenching cry I experienced the first two times I came out. I fought against myself, trying as hard as I could to quell the sobs and bring myself to tell him. He was patient, as what probably lasted only a few minutes felt like hours. I finally blurted it out, half inaudibly, I’m sure, as my chest heaved with my distressed breath.

Despite the anxiety, I felt an immense relief after each time I came out. It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. But I was still mostly in the closet. My sisters and extended family still didn’t know. About a month after I told my dad, I decided to tell my twin sister. I went to her house, and she fed me as good twin sisters do. But during the meal my brain ruminated on all the ways the looming conversation could go wrong. I started crying again. Yep, you guessed it, that gut-wrenching kind. Again, minutes felt like hours as I struggled to say the words. Honestly I don’t remember the exact conversation thereafter, but neither her reaction nor anyone else’s is the point of my telling you this. No, the point of this story is to reflect on my journey of accepting myself as I continued to come out to the rest of my family, friends, and the world...and it became easier and easier for me to say those two words.

I know some people in the LGBTQ+ community do not like certain labels for various reasons. Maybe they find the word queer offensive. Maybe they think the term gay is archaic. Maybe they feel the labels further segregate us from the rest of the population rather than viewing ourselves as equal. Whatever reason someone may have for disliking the labels, I want to take a moment to respect those views because they are valid. But my views may be quite different. I love identifying as gay. I love the label and calling myself gay. And the reason is highlighted in the stories above and in my journey. I love calling myself gay because I couldn’t always say it. And if the previous stories aren’t enough to express the true difficulty and fear I felt about saying those words aloud, let me explain even further: I couldn’t even tell my therapist I was gay during my late teens/early 20s. Yeah. It was that bad. Two syllables that, again, really shouldn’t be such a big deal, changed my life forever.

But that's really all it took. Simply SAYING those two small words over and over changed my perspective on who I could be and how I could live my life. Instead of depressed moods; thoughts of self-harm; and attempts to mask my mood and identity, I realized I didn’t have to live in fear. I didn’t have to push down who I am. So my being able to say “I’m gay” without any kind of fearful tears reminds me how far I’ve come, that I finally love myself, and that’s a beautiful thing. I can’t exactly say the anxiety ever quite goes away, but it does get easier to push through, and that’s because I am more comfortable in my skin. I am gay and I am proud, and it all started with two simple words.