On Passing and Coming Out

A few months ago, R. and I were shopping while Ms. P was out of town. When we got to the cashier, I pulled my things out and piled them on the counter. “Are you together?” the woman asked. “No,” I replied. “Well yes, we’re together,” I added, because we had been obviously shopping with one another, “but we aren’t together.”

“Oh, so he’ll drop you off at home later,” the cashier teased, mistaking us for a couple who can’t commit. Since we were still staying with him I could only laugh and say, “well, not exactly.”

R. was both amused and mortified. It didn’t occur to either of us to state the truth: my wife is his best friend. That would have shut them both up.

It’s not the first time R. and I have been mistaken for a couple. We’re close, comfortable, affectionate. It’s not the worst reason to have a relationship assumed. And we have a relationship, just not that one.

The difficulty with coming out is not that I had to come out; it’s that I have to come out over and over and over again to all of the people—known and unknown, familiar and not—who make assumptions about who I am.

I don’t read easily. I don’t look stereotypically lesbian or pagan or kinky. I look like the girl next door, which means I often end up being someone’s diversity experience because I pass. I pass and they get startled because I’m usually already inside their comfort zone when subjects come up. I’m a user-friendly freak, as Ms. P lovingly puts it.

(And none of this accounts for bi-invisibility, which is a whole other problem entirely.)

Sometimes this is a good thing; I get to educate people in low-tension situations, partially just by being myself and demonstrating that not all freaky people are, well, freaky. But I am so fucking tired of having to come out again and again and again. I’m so fucking tired of having to do work where most people just exist. I’m so fucking tired of having to be the one who explains, who collects funny responses, who shocks people.

Sometimes I want to exist in a context where my life and my choices are assumed, not explained.

The other day, we told two close friends that Ms. P and I are planning to have a baby, that R. is going to be the donor, and that while Ms. P and I would be the parents, R. would be close and involved. No one asked us if we were afraid R. would take the baby away. No one questioned our intent to have, effectively, more than two day-to-day familial caregivers. No one, in other words, questioned our family choices. In fact, one (gay man) made jokes about our leaving the baby on his doorstep when we needed a night alone, and the other (bi man married to a woman) said he hopes we can all get pregnant around the same time. It was a relief to feel surrounded by community.

I know that our plans for a family will be yet another place where my life and my choices bump right up against not only expectations, but laws designed to disallow what I’ll be spending my time doing. Our plans for a family will be yet another place where I have to explain, again and again, my choices and why I made them. My family will be yet another way I have to come out.

I hate that I have to constantly come out in order to live my life authentically. But I'd never trade it for passing, much less for the life I'm assumed to have. My own is so much more wonderful.

Comments

[frog]

"I’m so fucking tired of having to do work where most people just exist."

Amen.

[dale]

Oh, I can't tell you how deeply this resonated with me. I had to post about it.

[Friday Mom]

"Sometimes I want to exist in a context where my life and my choices are assumed, not explained."

I'm getting the first taste of this ever in my new job. Makes it harder to accept the need for explanation elsewhere, but I celebrate the freedom I now have to explain...even if it often feels tedious and frustrating. It's much so better than passing ever was....

[Elissa Malcohn]

Found you through Mole. I've been coming out as bi since the 1970s, so can speak to that "bi-invisibility." Sometimes it's all Mary and I can do to convince people we're a couple without adding on yet another layer of education.

But you never know when simple disclosure will help other people with their own identity or with that of someone they know. I've seen it happen. And I believe those repeated, simple disclosures will eventually get us to a place where we no longer must explain ourselves. (One can hope.)

I live in an area where many are widowed -- and a lot of those folks, even those whom my pronouns had confused at first, recognize the value and importance of having a loved one and companion, period.

[Pronoia]

And that's why I keep coming out, Elissa: because I know that being able to live my life even this freely is because of the great courage and sacrifices of the queers who came before me, who were out when it wasn't safe and wasn't talked about and didn't have allies. Because there are miles yet to walk, and if I can make some other queer feel safer or affirmed or seen, I will. And because, dammit, our lives are lovely and worthy just as they are, and I refuse to let someone else's prejudice limit how I live and express that life.

And I'm lucky: I'm in a city and a job and a relationship where I can be out and outspoken and kiss on the street. It's a great blessing and yet it's what everyone should have.

But Goddess, sometimes I'm just weary of the work.

[suzanne]

on the matter of repetitive explaining

upon a move from Madison WI (broader scoped)
to the Northeast (provincially narrow minded)
my elder son, 12 at the time,
came home one day to say
he was so tired of being an educational experience
for narrow thinking people
he is
Lithuanian/Black/Blackfoot Indian/Euromongrel
and we claim Tatar
through that invasion of Lithuania
which explains why so many Lithuanians are slightly sallow complexioned
dark haired dark eyed

we think of it
proudly
as having the blood of the four major races
intermingled in his and his brother's veins

he is visibly identified as black

his schoolmates
all white
offspring of doctors and lawyers
constantly told him
he couldn;t have a white mother/black father
as that was illegal

et cetera et cetera and on and on

hence his fatigue
at explaining

seems to me
as it seemed to him
we are all queer
anda if everyone would
just get over the fact
that difference exists and is
in the main beautiful
and healthy (hybrid vigor)
this Other fatigue could be replaced
by great energy

all of which applies equally
to the male/female/bi/trans/hemaphro
differences

[udge]

Found you via Dale. Wonderful post, witty and moving and with a pinch of anger to spice things up. I'll be back.

[kirsten]

Hmmmmm....

Definite food for thought here. (I migrated from Mole, also -- glad to have found you).

It's true that it gets tiresome sometimes. I moved to Montreal over two years ago, and you always get the same question when meeting new people: "So, why did you move here...?" And my stock answer -- "Well, because my girlfriend is from here, she's Quebecoise..." Blink. Number 1, I'm admitting I'm queer. Number 2, I'm getting all fancy and PC -- because even though it's the custom here for Anglos to call Quebecers 'French', my girl is not french -- she's Quebecoise. (Just like I'm a New Zealander. Not British.) Anyway, I digress.

What cracks me up, is when people miss the 'girlfriend' reference. You know how some people call their friends their 'girlfriends'? Eg, "Went out on Friday night with my girlfriends..."

Yeah. I should be so lucky.

Just kidding. Married. Deliriously happy. And because of this, coming out over and over and over again -- seems like a small price to pay for a love that I live (relatively hassle-free) and a life that I love.

[Ms. P]

And while we're all at it -- happy National Coming Out Day. :)

[Sfrajett]

Loved the coming out post and love the hopefulness of your blog. I will definitely keep reading. Happy Constant Coming Out Day (Year?) to you!