I came out twice for the first time and a million times in-between because for us, queer people from all walks and paths, coming out never ends. Usually, it happens with every new person you introduce into your life and decide to keep in for more than an hour. 

Coming out can be boring and matter-of-fact (in my opinion, that’s the best kind), emotional and involve a ton of hugs or bad enough to make you want to crawl back into the damned closet.

Scenario 1: 

My sister and I are at a pizzeria, sharing our favorite dinner. 

      “Sis, I wanted to tell you something for a while now,” I say, “I’m gay.” 

      “Okay, cool,” she responds. “Pass the salt.”

And so, I’m out and feeling kind of proud!

Scenario 2:

I’m in New York, miles away from my sister, and the whole “Anna is a girl” thing is a bit a lot of torture. 

      “Sis,” I text her, “do you know what ‘non-binary’ means?” 

      “Yeah,” she texts back, “Are you?”

      “Yes.”

      “Cool. What pronouns can I use for you?”

Scenario 3:

My best friend and I are on the floor of my bedroom and I’m crying my eyes out. 

      “Anna, what is it?” she asks. “You can tell me!” 

We do the whole “I can’t” and “Yes, you can” thing for a while and then I sob more and say “I’m in love with a girl.” 

She hugs me and whispers “I know.” We’re okay.

Scenario 4:

“EXCUSE ME?! This can’t be. We raised you well.” Followed by “You’re just confused. I called that therapist I told you about; you’re seeing her tomorrow. She’ll set things straight.”

Scenario 5:

“That’s what America did to you, it’s the land of sinners and sodomites.” Accompanied by “Your parents must’ve been awfully disappointed, you used to be such a good kid.”

Scenario 6:

Slap to the cheek. “People like you should be burned alive.” Smack to the head.

It gets much worse than that. I just was luckier than most.

Email Anna-Dmitry at [email protected].