1992
Recently I talked to my brother on the telephone. I mentioned Jim Jeffers, an old roommate of mine and childhood chum. Jim was a rather bizarre creature, a pathological liar and a schizophrenic follower. The type who would latch onto a group of people and then slowly fade away from them, going to another group. Jim was a loyal friend of mine, but he used me horribly and generally made my life hell.
Anyhow, I haven't spoken to Jim in damn near five years now and that thought really surprised me. So, during this conversation I said, "Hey, I was thinking of Jim Jeffers today and..." And my brother interrupted me and said, "Oh, is he gay yet?" It was meant as an insult.
I personally have no idea what Jim's current sexual orientation is. All I know is that damn near 60% of my high school peer group is discovering that they aren't, as a friend of mine put it recently, not entirely heterosexual.
But all that aside, I related this anecdote to Ann and she said, "You should have said, ÔNo, but I am.'" Then later, I was talking to Dave Fisher and he said the same thing. Then he said it again in a letter to Ann. And I have to say that I almost did say that, but instead I chose to say, "I don't know, but I was thinking that I hadn't talked to him in five year..." I just sort of glossed over it.
So I've been thinking about this a lot
recently. What, exactly, is stopping me from fully coming out to my family? Is it fear of
rejection? Fear of alienating my family?
I think it's mostly just fear that they won't understand what I mean. Or that they'll make assumptions based on their stereotypes of my sexuality. My family is totally Nebraskan. A long time ago (when I was 14) I had an intense argument with my mother -- her hypothesis/considered opinion was that bi-sexuality didn't exist; one was either gay or straight, but not in between.
Of course, my mother is not alone in that judgment. I've ;met far too many people who believe that nonsense. But the point is that my mother would think that I'm gay and I won't admit it to myself. Which is wrong. I am bi and quite happy with myself, thank you very much.
But then I'd have to deal with my family and their fear of AIDS and homosexual promiscuity and I'd have to deal with their accusations that there is a lack of commitment in Ann's and my relationship and then I'd have to explain the concept of open relationships to them -- which always comes across stressing sex over all else and making me, again, look like someone who would fuck anything and everything.
It makes me look bad, at times, to have to admit that I am not out to my family. I have been dropping hints to my mother that would be rather obvious flag to the "enlightened" world. My mother has asked me before if I was gay -- so I figured that she could be eased into it. It's kind of interesting to watch and do, really.
But, as I said, at times it makes me look
bad not to be out to my family. Some people take that as a symbol that I'm not a real
radical queer. Some paranoid gays think that I'm just one of those hets that is
experimenting.
One of the funniest things for me, being from the hyper-homophobic world of the mid-west where you can get a jail sentence for hugging another man outside of a sports arena, was to find out that here being bi is considered being PC.
I've been accused of styling my life to just be PC a lot by the more unPC people out here, which is also a riot because the first time I heard the term PC used in a sentence was is my friend Todd's kitchen in January 1991. I would have had to do a lot of work in those four months to become PC if I didn't already fit the mold. Except I'm sure htat the average PCer isn't as anarcho-communist and wasn't a member of central and western Nebraska's only hardcore punk band.
Besides, I'm not out to my parents -- totally not PC. Golly gee.
My brother called me before I graduated from MSU and told me that he was getting married. I said, "Oh." I don't think that was the response he was looking for. He asked me to be best man and I said, "well, I supposed I should." Which was really rude, so I called him later and apologized.
I have to go back to the Cornhusker State
for his wedding this summer. I'm going to be best man. Oh boy. I was going to wear
something pink., but their colors are gray and pink. Surprisingly tasteful. I'll stand
there with my brother and let him start something that he'll only be able to leave with a
bitter legal battle. My brother did tell the priest that my brother's religious beliefs
were none of his business. "Who are you," he said "to tell me what or who I
should believe in?" So he does have some hope.
Actually, my brother and his wife both got quite ragged off at the priest. Which made me really happy, but also makes me wonder why the hell people bother to get legally married in the first place. People say that the permanence of the marriage vows make people think twice about walking out and to work out their problems. They also say that it shows "commitment."
Great, I love you so much that I am willing to face severe financial and legal penalties if I should ever change my mind. I love you so much that I swear never to be attracted physically, mentally or emotionally to another human being under penalty of eternal damnation by the big god.
Makes no sense.
Of course the criticisms I have of the
marriage ritual are numerous and not really what this little piece was about. This piece
was about why I haven't come out to my family and why some people never do.
And does it matter?
The "does it matter" question is a very important one. As a writer, I assume that my family is going to find out sooner or later. I want to come out to them pretty soon because I'd rather not have them find out from "the outside" like it was some big secret.
I don't think of my sexuality as a big secret, but rather like a difference in culture. My bisexuality is a complex social entity that would take some time to explain and just bleating it over a phone line from Seattle to Phoenix would do more harm than good.
So why am I telling this to you? Because I'm J. LeRoy and that's the sort of thing I do.
Actually, the whole process of coming out and to whom you come out and when and why and how is incredibly important. All my friends know.
Recently I phone an old girl friend from
Denver who is now living in San Francisco, and was quite happy to learn of her bisexuality
-- as she was glad to hear of mine. It was a wonderful phone call.
"I have yet to come out to my parents as a Socialist," she told me with a laugh. My parents do know that I'm and anarcho-communist, incidentally.
Which brings me to another important thing...Support structures.
While I care very much bout my family and like them, I would not say that they are a large support structure for me. They do lend support from time to time, but their lack of knowledge about the whole of my life sort of limits them to providing emotional support for such things as unemployment and death.
Therefore, my friends are a much larger form of emotional support. Coming out to them was, therefore, much more important to me. And I must say, I have an excellent set of friends.
When I first decided to get it over with and just come out, (which was about 15 minutes after I finally decided to come out to myself) I asked my friends what they thought about it. They invariably just said that it didn't matter. Honestly, that it didn't matter at all. I could have said to them, "I eat Post Toasties," as far as they were concerned.
I was delighted, to say the least. Of
course, there was a slight feeling of disappointment that I didn't have to do any
convincing or arguing. Sort of like when you've been pulled over for speeding and you have
a great excuse, but the copy just give you a warning.
But my support structure was/is very supporting. And I feel really lucky about that.
As you my have guessed, this little bit did not have a thesis and it was not designed to prove anything. It was meant to just sort of chat about what's been going through my head. There it is.
BVI
Our Founder