Coming out late with grace

There were all kinds of lesbians at the showing of Chely Wright’s documentary Wish Me Away.

I am, by the way, a new Wright fan.

I purchased her book and album after the film. Interestingly, there were a lot of older (my age and over) lesbians at the screening. It seemed that this age group could truly relate to Wright’s story because they too had been in the closet at one time, and like myself, we are always inspired when someone finally finds her voice.

This reminded me of a 26-year-old friend. We were recently at an event and someone was talking about being in the closet – she told me that she had no concept of what that meant. I figured this was simply a generational thing and didn’t think about it too deeply. I mean, I have been out for 17 years, but I still remember distinctly the first openly gay woman I knew in high school (class of ’85). Reminiscing about that still blows my mind.

A person didn’t admit to being gay back then. It was a secret. And even my 26-year-old friend didn’t come out until she was 23 although she swears she’s known “forever.” She was still scared of coming out. Of being different.

Yes, we, the members of the LGBT community are still discriminated against and still have to fight homophobia every day. However, my young friend didn’t feel she was ever “in the closet” because of culture. She was simply hoping it would go away so she could be “normal.”
Chely Wright prayed every day from the time that she was 9 not to be gay.  No matter what Michelle Bachmann’s husband says, you can’t pray the gay away.  What I find fascinating is that when you try to hide who you are from yourself, you put yourself in the closet. No one has to do it for you.

I am proudly a lesbian. As soon as I figured it out, I never considered living in the closet.  I have far too many clothes; there just isn’t enough room for me. I was fortunate enough to figure it out in New York City where no one really blinked when it happened. I just knew how liberated and joyous I felt having figured it out. I went to a church with the oldest active LGBT church group in the country. I spent months doing research figuring out exactly what it meant to be a lesbian. I was 27 years old.

I didn’t have to do it in high school surrounded by the opinions of my judgmental peers. I didn’t have to do it in front of people that had known me my whole life and would spread rumors and I definitely didn’t have to come out in front of millions of fans. I didn’t have to do anything, but be who I was.

I read lesbian erotica and watched lesbian films including The Children’s Hour (poor Shirley Maclaine). I bought an “I can’t even think straight” T-shirt and tied a bandanna on my head. It was exhilarating to say the least.

I saw that same exhilaration the night I saw the film about Wright. She just kept throwing in comments after the film – during the talk – about how she was just a big old lesbian. She is neither big, nor old, but she is very happily a lesbian. It seems she is like my friend who insists on pointing out reasons being gay is so great. “Being gay is so awesome,” she says over and over again. “Why would anyone want to be straight?”

Reading Wright’s book, Like Me, has opened my eyes to the blessing that figuring it out “late” was OK for me.

Now, for the first time in my life, I don’t regret not coming out sooner.  Although coming out before college would have proven fun with all of those cute coeds.

When this occurred to me, I became overwhelmed with the biggest emotion. I began feeling utterly grateful. I am grateful to be a lesbian, and I am grateful to live in that place of grace everyday.

Our coming out stories are like re-telling the stories of our birth. Except this time if you’re crying it’s not because you’re freaked out it’s because you are finally free.

The burden of being you has been lifted and you can finally accept the gift that you’ve been given.