Rewriting traditional coming out narratives

For the most part, Jeremy’s coming out experience was positive. But the same can’t be said for everyone. Being queer can make up a big part of who we are, but it’s not the only component of our identity. From religion to cultural traditions and race, these layers interact with our sexuality/gender identity and cause a myriad of intersectionalities underneath the LGBTQIA+ umbrella, which can complicate an individual’s feelings about coming out. 

“Some people don’t love the thought of coming out because they feel like it’s privileging one aspect of their identity over the other,” Saguy says. “We talk about ‘coming out’, but you’re also coming out into a community.” While some of us may find the safety net of our community straight away, or at least watch it from afar before coming out, for others, not finding people with similar identities and experiences can feel alienating and prevent coming out entirely. Additionally, Saguy notes that the background of the term – and wider representation – has been historically exclusive, putting white, cis-gender men (the people for whom it can be easiest to come out) at the forefront. “This stereotypical image creates more needs to come out, to declare different sorts of identities, but also to define different communities.” 

Born to a Caribbean family in Loughborough, 23-year-old Tre Thomas feels that sometimes his Blackness and queerness clash and that these intersecting identities provide more opportunity for discrimination. “On one side, you might experience homophobia in the Black community, and then on the other, you face racism within the queer community,” he says. 

Before questioning from his mum led him to open up about being gay at 16, Thomas navigated his sexuality with the help of LGBTQIA+ friends online. These friends, he says, gave him the courage to come out to others outside of his immediate circle (when asked) when he began Sixth Form. “Telling people was a gradual thing. I felt like some of the people I was around during GCSEs weren’t very nice and were too immature to come out to,” he says.However, despite other queer pupils attending his Sixth Form, being both gay and one of few Black students left Thomas feeling alienated. “My white school friend came out and a community already existed for him, but it took me a long time to find other Black queer people,” he explains.

Social media, on the other hand, offered Thomas a place to meet, interact and confide in others just like him – a privilege that people from previous generations, like Pemberton, weren’t afforded. Of course, these digital spaces can be a double-edged sword: providing support from unexpected places in some ways, yet isolating particular individuals in others. But they also provided a new platform, and thereby a new way, to come out, where influencers, online celebrities and just about anyone could share a piece of themselves with the world. “As I grew up, I associated coming out with a YouTube video that someone like Troye Sivan would make,” Thomas says, pointing out how it was mostly white celebrities coming out in this way at the time. “I never really wanted that… I thought it would be too overwhelming to do some kind of grand announcement.”

@chezablondexo I am simply i am #trans#transgender#lgbtq#fyp ♬ original sound – ⊱✿⊰ciara⊱✿⊰

However, for content creator Rhys Thomas – who goes by the alias Cheza Blonde online – watching fellow trans women like Gigi Gorgeous share their stories online provided an “incredible tool” when navigating her own trans identity. Now providing inspiration for a new generation, the now 22-year-old first told her parents she felt she was “in the wrong body” in Year Six after an LGBTQIA+ support group gave a talk at her school. Thomas began secondary school still using he/him pronouns, but says that her official coming out occurred upon returning to school for the second term of Year 7. “I already had long hair and wore make-up before, but I came back wearing a skirt to school for the first time and asked to be referred to with she/her pronouns from that point,” she says. Despite facing bullying, Thomas has always received support from her loved ones (which she acknowledges isn’t a shared experience) and points out that ‘coming out’ isn’t a blanket process for everyone.

From Blonde’s perspective, the notion of ‘coming out’ as a trans woman isn’t comparable to the experience of a cisgender member of the community, or even the narrative that coming out is a bold choice in the way that Harvey Milk once imagined. “It’s  totally different for trans people. This isn’t about who I’m attracted to; it’s about me as a person, how I can face my own gender dysphoria and feel right in my own body,” she explains. For many trans people, the moment they feel ready to explore ways to affirm their gender, they’re essentially forced to come out. If they’re presenting in a different way physically, they’re likely to face questioning immediately, feeling like they have to explain their gender journey to the people around them. Trans people aren’t afforded the same privilege as say, a bisexual man, to conceal this part of their identity and decide when they can show it. “It’s feeling like I’ll never truly be a part of society because I’m growing up in a world full of gender norms. It’s not even necessarily the coming out part, but it’s about what happens after,” Blonde says, although she highlights her privilege in being able to access gender-affirming care as she started puberty. “It wasn’t easy for me, but it was definitely easier than how it is for other trans people.”

Although we tend to think of “coming out” as consisting of one or two memorable instances, Saguy and Bengry highlight that for LGBTQIA+ people, disclosing our identities is a constant, ongoing process. “We discover that coming out is the start of a process full of questions, risk evaluations, and sometimes snap decisions,” Bengry says. “With each person, it depends on context,” Saguy adds. Some of us may feel confident being our true selves at all times, no matter who we find ourselves around – friends of friends, neighbours, in job interviews, or with extended family members. 

On the other hand, others may choose to skirt over their identity in these scenarios, feeling uncomfortable in correcting wrong pronoun use or assumptions made about their sexuality/gender identity. “You ask yourself, is it always worth it? There’s something in it which is continually negotiated,” Saguy says. On top of this, not everyone even has the privilege to avoid these conversations and ‘pass’ when it’s more convenient. Even though coming out was a political strategy in the US that turned mainstream, the entire community doesn’t owe it to the world to be out all the time.