Coming to terms with my sexuality, and coming out to my friends and family, has been a little bit like learning to swim at the beach. I waded in the shallows, learning what my body feels like in water with my feet still on the ground. I watched the dumpers past the shore and prepared myself. Still, when dragged out to the deep for the first time, I felt an unavoidable panic.
Simulation doesn’t change the moment that your stomach drops, but it can help tell you what to do next. After years of mental prep, I feel comfortable negotiating my way through spaces that used to bring me anxiety. For my parents though, my queerness dragged them unexpectedly from the safety of the shore and into a deep, green unknown.
In our circles, coming out means that your whole nuclear family is branded, for better or for worse, as that family with the LGBT son or daughter. Families are queered by their LGBT members.
My partner and I grew up in tight-knit migrant communities, mine Greek and Italian, and my partner’s Lebanese. We also grew up in a small coastal city, where almost everyone from these communities knows the intimate details of each other’s lives. Like, when I asked my cousin if she knows of my friend’s sister-in-law’s family (because somehow those questions really do come up!), her response was: “Is the other daughter gay? ‘Cos then yeah I know who they are.” In our circles, coming out means that your whole nuclear family is branded, for better or for worse, as that family with the LGBT son or daughter. Families are queered by their LGBT members.
My family have had to undergo a ‘coming out’, even if only in regards to their changing principles. This is the second coming out after my own, in itself a ‘day of judgment’.
Sometimes I see them tired, grieving; treading water. One night my mum broke down in tears after telling the nuns at our family’s Catholic church that she is no longer willing to teach children’s liturgy during Sunday morning service due to anti same-sex marriage material the church had published in its newsletter. The nuns were actually very understanding and supported my mum’s integrity, assuring her that they themselves welcome all and will keep in touch. Still, my mum’s decision to loosen ties that were wrought over a period of more than 20 years left her grief-stricken.
My partner’s sister also had her Orthodox Christianity, ethnicity, and credibility as a teacher called into question by her vocal decision to vote yes in last year’s postal vote. When debate erupted at a dinner gathering she stood her ground passionately (supported by only one other person), but hyperventilated in tears after leaving the restaurant.
The stereotype of our communities is that they shame, ignore, or deny their LGBTI+ members. Sometimes this is very true. But sometimes, after this painful period of adjusting, families are forced closer together.
How do our families feel after having been ‘queered’? They were swept off a breakwater into a swirling undertow without even having learnt how to swim. They didn’t put themselves through any mental or emotional preparation. And part of me feels angry at them for not having prepared themselves, and for placing expectations of heterosexuality on me in the first place. But I was also raised to value family above all else, and seeing my loved ones conflicted and hurt resonates more strongly than anything I have experienced first-hand.
The stereotype of our communities is that they shame, ignore, or deny their LGBTI+ members. Sometimes this is very true. But sometimes, after this painful period of adjusting, families are forced closer together, a lifeboat in choppy water. They hold strong to their ethnic or religious identities even when they have to distance themselves from certain groups or institutions. They don’t leave the ocean, they learn to navigate it. The sea may never be calmed, but with time it grows more familiar. The lifeboat upgrades to a yacht, and then a ship. Soon everyone is less threatened by its presence and more likely to come aboard.
When it comes to navigating their new identities, my family needs just as much patience and support as I did.
Id Ioann is a freelance writer.
