On coming out, as writer or as LGBTQIA+

A member of my writing group raised a question at the last meeting and I've been pondering it ever since. She's a fine writer, and is working on a coming-of-age novel which circles around the process of deconstructing from rightwing conservative Christian formation.

At the meeting, she expressed something real, discouraging, and painful, wondering aloud if she should just give up on the book. Why? Because of the potential hurt it could create for people she loves. And the potential for putting her in the sights of extremists who've been emboldened by the current political environment. 

I listened as others offered their thoughts while gathering my own, eventually saying essentially this:

You're right. People will be upset. Your Mom will struggle, feeling as if she must have screwed up along the way, worrying about the state of your eternal soul. Members of your Mom's congregation will murmur about you leading other souls straight to hell. Once the book is out, you could very well be targeted by those who wish to mold society into their ideal of conformity.

But first things first. Your Mom. 

There comes a time in everyone's life where a change occurs between parent and child, when offspring step into the reality of being adult. It is a good and proper thing to stand in your own authority. That doesn't mean being disrespectful, it simply means that there are times when you have to be more of an adult than your parent can.

The best thing to do is plan your interaction. You need to take charge of how the process unfolds, regardless of the typical patterns for communication you've previously followed. You can break the news in person, by telephone, or in writing. Rehearse points your Mom might make so that you have responses ready. Set boundaries for what you'll engage in discussion about and what you won't. Tell her the ground rules for continued discussion, and if she violates them, let her know you're willing to talk again another time after she's had a chance to process. 

In the meantime, write the book. 

It takes time to finish a draft, go through the editing process, find an agent, get the book picked up by a publisher, and then, finally, go to print. There's lots of time to prepare, and lots of time for things to change before a confrontation is needed. The world may have moved on entirely by then, meanwhile, the only way the book gets finished is if you keep going.

One of the reasons the group conversation resonated so strongly is that it's Pride month, a time when so many people are facing similar issues but from a queer lens. Wondering if they dare come out. Wondering what the impact  might be on their close relationships and their position within the world. Wondering about their emotional and physical safety. There are no guarantees that all will be well for writer or queer individual. A shitstorm may very well rain down causing unforeseen disruption.

But I know this much with certainty:

Being yourself, speaking truth, and getting to share your perspective and wisdom are all worth it. 

It's ironic and meta that my writer friend continues to struggle with the things she writes about in her novel. But it connects to another queer truth. We never stop coming out. We can face the fear and pain of telling our closest friends and loved ones, but then there are co-workers. Or healthcare professionals. Or people who work in clothing stores. As people eventually read her book, there will be contact from those who believe they should correct her (and worse) on an ongoing basis.

For me, at least, it's all worth it. Not to say there aren't moments when I want to pull my hair out and scream loud enough to rock the planet from its axis. But the work matters. People need to read the wisdom she pours out in such an entertaining and compelling way. People need to see me standing up in the various ways I am queer. We need to claim space because otherwise the voices which wish to restrict thought, identity, and freedom will win. And we can't let that happen. 

So friend, keep writing.

Queer sibling, stand strong.

Embrace as fully as possible the beautiful thing that is you.