By Sara
October 11th was National Coming Out Day. To celebrate, we asked our community to share their coming out stories. The following are first person narratives from people across the spectrum. We thank them for sharing their vulnerability.
| Jameson’s Story |
In early 2014, I changed my gender to “genderqueer” on Fetlife, but it wasn’t really because I was having feelings about my gender that I was aware of at the time. I mainly thought that if I weren’t listed as “female,” I might get less creepy messages from strangers (which, incidentally, was also true). But after that, I kept finding myself hovering on my own profile, staring at that “(gq)” next to my name.
A couple months later, on mushrooms, I had a vision of myself as an eight year old boy. I spent the next couple of months thinking about that.
Less than a year after that, I had come out as genderqueer to most people in my life. It was still 2014 and “non-binary” was not a term I was familiar with yet. I was the first they/them pronoun user that any of my family or friends knew. (I only knew one other person, an agender internet friend named Ali. We fell out of touch and they will never know the influence they had on my life.) Transness was much more unfamiliar in 2014, and I had to explain myself—and often defend myself—to everyone I met. I felt like I was constantly begging for validation, like my right to exist depended on my ability to argue in favor of it. And even as I was explaining it to others, I was still unsure of myself, still gingerly figuring out my gender identity, trying on different things and seeing what felt right. It would be years before I’d decide to start medically transitioning, but I was already going through a sort of puberty, a time of emotional vulnerability and questionable decisions.
Around this time, I remember really struggling with my place in the queer community. I was a pre-transition trans boy in a hetero-passing relationship. Unlike many others in the trans community, I didn’t feel like I’d known from a young age that I wasn’t meant to be a girl. I came out not long after I figured it out for myself, and it wasn’t a terribly traumatizing process. It was awkward with my family for a while and I lost a few friends in the process, but people in my life were largely supportive. What right did I have to include myself in a community of people who had had to fight and suffer for their place in it?
I brought this up once to someone who I considered an elder of the queer community, and he told me something that I’ll never forget until the day I die. He said, “There’s nothing wrong with sitting in the shade of a tree that someone else planted.” I think about that a lot.
At the time, for all of the reasons mentioned, I felt like my transition had been pretty easy, or at least easier than it was for other people. In retrospect, my early transition was actually really challenging. No, I didn’t suffer, but I did a lot of work. The work was, in many ways, extremely gratifying. I felt like an ambassador—the first non-binary (and often the first trans) person you might know. When people were receptive—and honestly, they often were—it felt good to be able to broaden their horizons and teach them something new about people different from themselves.
But it was also fucking hard work. It was exhausting having to educate everyone I met. Even if I was talking to someone supportive, I had to put myself on the line, every time, before I knew what their reaction would be; it was a very vulnerable feeling. (Vulnerability is a skill that you can practice, and I’ve gotten quite good at it.) Non-binary-ness was strange and foreign to people; it was so outside the parameters of how they’d been taught to think. As transness became more familiar in the years since then, some of those people came around to acceptance and perhaps even allyship. But familiarity requires exposure, and as the very first point of exposure for most people, I saw them at their most ignorant.
The cultural norms around transness have shifted a lot since 2014. Non-binary has gone from a completely foreign concept to a common, if not always well-understood, term. It has become pretty commonplace for people to share their pronouns on introducing themselves, and it’s starting to be considered bad form to not include non-binary as a gender option on web forms. Looking back, a moment that really stands out to me was the first time I saw a non-binary person on television—it was Stevonnie, from Steven Universe. I was completely enchanted by Stevonnie. They were beautiful and strong and everyone admired them. And they were like me! (In retrospect, it’s really, really beautiful that our first representation on TV was a character like Stevonnie and not the butt of a joke.) Obviously, things are fucking terrible right now in a lot of ways, but also in less than ten years, I’ve seen more understanding and acceptance grow than I expected to ever experience for the rest of my life.
Since then, my life has become much less exhausting. The world has changed and I don’t have to do that kind of education anymore, but I’ve also changed myself. When I was first exploring gender, I thought about my gender constantly, and I couldn’t even imagine getting to the point where that wasn’t the case anymore. But ultimately, I didn’t really turn out as the trans person I was expecting; I ended up doing a full medical transition and it has helped my dysphoria more enormously than I could have realized at the time. Now, everything is more comfortable. I’m more comfortable as myself, in my own body. And also people perceive me as a binary trans man, and that’s honestly more comfortable for me, even if it’s not exactly true. (Actually many people now perceive me as a cis man, which is just so outside of my expectations about how my transition would go, it blows my mind.) I still consider myself non-binary, but now my non-binary-ness is a quieter, more personal thing, rather than something I expect or need other people to understand. My mind has quieted and my gender has become something that just quietly exists in the background for me.
I was sort of surprised to find that I had become an elder in the queer community myself, but ten years is a long time, especially when you think about how many fewer people were out ten years ago. I celebrated my second birthday (what many call their “tranniversary”) on the day my legal name change was approved and I became Jameson officially, which happened on October 20th, 2015. So, on October 20th this year, I’ll be turning 10. Jameson will be turning 10. It feels really right, perhaps even important, to celebrate it. It’s an accomplishment to exist in this world as non-binary for ten whole years. I feel genuinely accomplished when I think about it. (I’m having a Pokemon-themed tenth birthday party; ten year old me would have liked that.)
But when I feel the most accomplished is when I think about all my friends who have come out over the course of those last ten years. A few people have shared with me that I was the first person they knew who used they/them pronouns, and that it helped them realize they feel most comfortable identifying as non-binary and using they/them as well. cannot begin to express how good it feels to know that all my hard work wasn’t just for me. It helped people—and not just people in the abstract, but people who I know and love. I guess I planted some trees after all. I hope a lot of people get to enjoy the shade.
| Owl’s Story |
Hello, I am Owl. I would have loved to be able to tell my story openly and without the protection of a pseudonym, but I do not think that would be entirely safe for me. I grew up in a country where people like me would be, to put it bluntly, killed for what I am; a NB demisexual person just trying to live a life of peace. Throughout my life I felt outside of the AMAB box I was constantly stuffed and pushed into.
The way I came out was a silent war both internal and external, never quite feeling safe anywhere even though in 2008, I moved to the states from a country in Asia. It took me until 2023, in Buffalo to finally accept that maybe JUST maybe, I’m safe enough to come out… and so I did. So did my two best friends, one of which is still my bandmate. We were coming home from a night out, and before I could really stop myself, I said to them, “hey, I think I might not be straight.” Initially, I immediately regretted this decision but in the long term, they (and everyone I STILL carefully choose to come out to) met me with love. I don’t know how to explain that relief other than a colossal weight lifted off of my shoulders. What followed after was more bold attempts at coming out to people that I felt I could trust, that I knew would not out me to my family or to anyone that knew my family, because even so much as a hint to my family could quite possibly put my life in jeopardy.
At that point, I still went by He/Him and was out as pansexual. But over the course of the year, I felt more comfortable exploring the feminine side. Even saying that as AMAB still makes me feel a little bit shameful, but I am slowly learning to be okay and feel safe in the exploration of my identity and the fact that sometimes…I might like wearing a pretty dress (yay, therapy). I use the pseudonym because I am still terrified: I live in a house of Trump voters that will openly applaud as the government says that I should be on a watchlist and am bad just for being queer. Yet, I have to just sit there pretending as if I am just completely the same person they have always known me to be. But, despite the consensus within the family, I have found allies there as well. My cousin is NB as well and my straight cousin who I’m close with has been nothing but supportive and will sometimes ask me questions to try to understand what the queer perspective and lived experience is.
But despite the challenges, which I’m sure will be many on this journey, I am quite hopeful because I’ve been able to surround myself with communities that love and care for me. I want to use this time to give an example of my artistic pursuits. I am a little more open and honest about my identity and my lived experience in the poetry and band community. I have been lucky to build a supportive following full of wonderful people who connect with my songs and poetry. It becomes a space where I do not have to feel so afraid of facing the music (pun intended lol).
I do really hope that through my experiences, I can offer you some form of solidarity or comfort that you are in fact not alone. I hope my words can become light for people that there is hope, wonderful things and communities to look forward to as you continue (or embark on) your own journey towards being able to live your best life as your true self. Shine on, you silly diamond, and may you shine beautifully.
Peace and love, Owl
| Levi’s Story |
Perhaps the youngest memory I had growing up in the early 80s was watching Ricki Lake, a popular talk show host, with my parents. The title of the show was something along the lines of saying, “My Child is a Homosexual.” My father, with beer in hand, said words I’ll never forget: “If I ever had a f****t for a son, I’d kill him.” At that age, I didn’t know what that was, but I knew I never wanted to be whatever-that-is.
In 4th grade, all of the boys had an open shower in the locker room. All students were required to shower. I remember staring at this one kid Eric for longer than normal. At that point, I knew I wasn’t attracted to girls. I was terrified. Growing up in the 90s was even more complicated. My family dabbled in extremist Christian groups. I eventually joined a church that made it abundantly clear that being gay was evil and sinful. For years, I believed them. I had come to full realization that I wasn’t straight and all I ever wanted was for it to stop. I had a Youth Pastor who took me to a conference in Toronto, “prayed” the gay away at the pulpit of a congregation of about a thousand people. Then that evening he slept in the same bed as me, in nothing but his underwear, to prove that it was gone.
I left the church in 2000. In 2001, I had my first boyfriend while still remaining closeted to my family and friends. We went tent camping in Allegany State Park and talked rather loudly about being a couple where other campers could hear us. We left for a nature trail, came back, and found that my tent, clothes, and grill were all stolen.
Some time later, my boyfriend permanently moved to Texas and we moved on. I met another guy and I fell in love. He confided in me that he was discharged from the military for being hydrophobic. He was openly out, and quite a few people openly hated him for being gay. His family were leaders of a Mormon church and they kicked him out of their home. He was homeless. Later, his body was found in the locks in Lockport about a 40 minute drive away. One man openly told people he killed him, but seeing that he was 19 his parents didn’t want an investigation and called it suicide. They were allowed to close the case. I eventually went even further back into the closet. Years later I eventually came out to my parents, who took some time to finally accept me as I am. They all came around and accepted me for who I am. But coming out isn’t a one-time thing. An LGBTQ+ person has the choice to come out to every person they meet, and every time it’s a coming out story. It took me a long time to accept myself. Everyone deserves happiness.
| Brando’s Story |
There are multiple times throughout life that you can come out. My story started back in middle school with Zak, my very first best friend when I was young. Looking back, I don’t know why we were friends because of what happened. His mother looked at his phone and then saw the way I was texting him. Then he asked me if I’m I gay and got very upset and ended up blocking me!
That didn’t stop me from becoming who I truly am on the inside. Also It didn’t stop me from telling others. When I got into high school, that’s when people started noticing who I truly was. I still was not out as gay besides being an ally for a day of silence. Also, I got into theater and that’s the first group of friends I had who were gay. They didn’t care as much because in the theater world, almost everyone was part of the community. They actually pushed me to start searching for love and, let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. Nothing in life is easy. You have to go through multiple obstacles until you actually can do what you are looking to do. The same way it took my family and true friends to find out who I truly was because it took almost a decade until they found out.
A year after I graduated, my mother was going through my phone and discovered I was sending all my money to a random guy she had never heard of before. Then she went through my messages and at that moment she found out I was gay, she got very upset and started giving me the very harsh mother tone. But not because I was gay, because I was sending money to be in a relationship, and no one should ever send money to be in a relationship, no matter who you choose to be in a relationship with. It can ruin your future when you send money. When everyone heard that I was sending money to be in a relationship, they were upset. My friends didn’t care that I’m gay they were upset that I was giving away all my money.
After that settled down, my mom told me that she knew I was gay when I was born because she said I never wanted to play with trucks and cars, always wanted to play with the kitchen stuff and dolls that were my sisters. But truly I believe that is just a stereotype—it doesn’t matter what gender you are, they are just toys!
The rest of my family was very supportive as well. My step mother told me they knew for about a year already. I was surprised myself because I didn’t completely know what I identified as! The only person that actually got upset was my father. He is confused, maybe, because he stopped completely talking with me, and his mother called me several bad things on our last visit with each other. Then very shortly later she passed away! Then when I moved out, my dad and stepmom didn’t even come visit me like they did for the rest of the kids. When they moved out, I got all my help with moving from high school teachers instead of my true family and I wasn’t even their student anymore besides my grandfather on my mothers side using his truck to transport everything!
After I moved out, I thought to myself I wonder how others go through hard times like I did! Instead of being quiet about it I told my story out loud by taking part in a Pride photoshoot and also doing things through The Pride Center. I eventually helped start a Pride nonprofit and have done other work as well. I even decided to change my name, because why would I want to associate with a last name that has a bad history and also doesn’t respect someone that is trying to make a difference in this world?
I’m always trying to find my next way through life, I will probably become a drag performer or be part of another pride board. You know, life is a journey that is all a mystery!
| David’s Story |
Coming Out as a Theme | When I wrote this, it was days away from National Coming Out Day, a tradition that started nearly 37 years ago. Unfortunately counting begets counting and I am horrified to realize that I came out 43 years ago. Sometimes when you stop and count, you realize how much you have lived through and survived. Coming out for me, was an adventure that literally formed who I am. Those early years included a decade of not speaking to my parents, being rejected by my family church and the deaths of around two dozen friends from a mysterious disease. These years also marked the growth of a movement that would eventually lead to SONDA and Marriage Equality. I have witnessed so much.
That summer—back from school—started out calmly, I returned home to my dear group of misfit toy friends. We all lived in a perfect suburban area, where the lawns were groomed, dads all left at the same time and moms cleaned house and gossiped and managed the home. Anything out of the ordinary was frowned upon. None of us really had the vocabulary to talk about the secrets we all held. Of my fifteen closest friends, I would say eighty percent came out that summer and three of the women were being beaten or worse by their dads. Things were not as perfect as we all thought. I think we were brought together as friends because of music and art, but we were also brought together by our secrets.
In those days we talked about two stages of coming out. The first one was to your friends, the second was to your family. My brave best friend was the first to confess. Our friend Donna was so upset, she nearly killed us all driving home from a night club. I lied to myself and to them.
“David, you’re not gay too, are you?”
“No, I am not.”
As more and more of this little group came out, the more I felt the need to lie. We used to go out far away from home in a little gay bar in Ithaca, a place where we could hide and be ourselves. As we entered my friends would say, Dave is straight, leave him alone. The pressure was substantial.
One weekend night an Ithaca gay local, Michael cornered me and asked me why I was coming here if I wasn’t gay. “I come here with my friends,” I said. He told me I should be in a straight bar looking for a girl. He was setting me up.
The next weekend I was sitting at a table at the same place and watching this beautiful man on the dance floor. He was so beautiful to me; I couldn’t take my eyes off. The next thing I know Michael is on the dance floor and brings this guy to my table, introduces us and leaves the two of us together. This guy invited me to the dance floor and then soon after “out back” to a secluded patio. This was my first gay kiss. Almost instantly all the shame of lying came flooding in, I was terrified and relieved. I started sobbing. I was so scared my friend might have seen this and that I would lose the few that I had for my dishonesty. The poor stud escorted my tear soaked face back into the club and my entire group of friends were waiting for me in a big semi-circle. Turns out they had known all along and were “waiting for me.” I felt one hundred pounds lighter in those moments. And I will never forget the feeling of that friendship, nonconditional love and those hugs. This would be the core of my NEW family, one that would grow over decades to exactly this place and this time.
This is the family that accepted me for who I am, a family that taught me to be fierce and to keep paddling when the water was rough. I found adults that invited me to holiday dinners when my parents didn’t and I learned to host “gay orphan” Thanksgiving to pay it forward, giving those who had been abandoned a place to feel loved.
Since we achieved marriage equality, with the age of smart phones, dating apps, a lot of that social feeling, that feeling of solidarity and community is gone. And that is the main purpose of the Buffalo Niagara Proud Alliance. To find a new way to come together, maybe more intensely than before because the threat seems closer now.
What’s especially hard is gathering a community that has been oppressed, abused or scared in different ways and for different reasons. I have said for years that if the LGBTQ+ community in all its crazy diversity, could all work toward common goals, we could show the rest of society how to do it. Imagine if we could stop seeing color, age, gender, class, physical appearance, and religion, not as a way to separate, but instead a way to build a giant family that welcomed everyone. Imagine the voting power, Pride events that celebrate our history, our successes and our future. These are the goals of the Buffalo Niagara Proud Alliance. I hope you will follow and support us.
David Butler, President
Buffalo Niagara Proud Alliance