Coming Out in Phoenix, AZ

"Out Like a Lamb"

By Cody Van Winkle

I remember, the summer before 5th grade, feeling resigned.  I knew I liked boys in the way I wasn’t supposed to like boys and I saw it as a great burden I’d be stuck with my whole life.  Having just turned nine years old, I felt the way I imagine expectant parents feel when they’re told their fetus has Down Syndrome.  I knew I was still having the baby, but I had to accept that it would be faced with life-long difficulties outside the norm.  There was nothing I could do to change it.

Afraid to rebel, I continued doing what was expected of me through junior high and high school.  Sex didn’t particularly interest me, anyway, so sexuality didn’t seem like something I’d ever have to fight to defend.  (That could come later.)  I was willing to be a little weird and artsy, but I carefully avoided declaring any particular allegiance when it came to orientation.  In college, I focused on my studies and my job and suffering for my art.  I honestly never bothered to think about my sexuality as anything other than non-existent.

Gradually, that small part of me from the summer I turned nine (the part that subconsciously related to every gay character in the movies and was MADLY IN LOVE with River Phoenix) grew and fought its way to the surface.  As it finally dawned on me as an adult that I’m a homo and that I’m okay with that, I came to realize two things.  First, a stifled life of fear and suppression wouldn’t be a life worth living.  Second, I am, more than anything, a terrible liar.

Immediately, I jumped into stealth mode.  The transition was invisible.  I began living openly queer as if it was already old news.  I didn’t sit everyone down to explain it, just as I didn’t sit everyone down to tell them I’m a Beatles fan or that I love coconut or that I can’t stand Seinfeld.  (Okay, to be honest, I actually avoid that Seinfeld conversation because I’m afraid I’ll get hate crimed.)  It never made sense to me to define myself by who I sleep with, and even less to ask everyone to please take a moment and decide what it means to them.  I simply continued to live my life as originally scheduled and integrated all personality developments with the same casual indifference.  There have been occasional people who have needed the tearful porch swing conversation in order to see the elephant in the room, but they’ve been rare.  I’m absolutely terrified of Big Deals, so it’s no accident that my “coming out” was quiet, drama-free and almost seamlessly retroactive.

Everyone gets to forge their own path, and many gay people feel dishonest if they don’t come clean with everyone right away.  Maybe they’ve been living a lie or suppressing themselves or hell bent on abolishing any sense of shame.  Maybe it’s part of their personal journey toward self-acceptance.  I just never felt that urge.

It’s your life.  Live it.