Three days ago, two days before the first day of LGBTQ+ Pride Month, I was reading a literary journal, a journal of poetry to be exact. I had just finished writing one of my Blogging for LGBTQ Families Day posts. I scrolled to the author bios, as I usually do, and skimmed. Among the trans poets, and the non-binary theys, there was a bio that started, “[This] is a pen name.” I was caught on it. I am fascinated by pen names. People that write under another name. Why do they do it? Why would you say that it is a pen name? Isn’t the point of a pen name, that people don’t know that you aren’t who you say you are? Except in this case, that was the point. The author bio explained that the writer, a celebrated and award winning poet, lives in a closet.
I consider my own coming out to have been a long, drawn out, and exhausting process. Living as a straight, cis female was not just draining but incredibly detrimental to my mental health. But, to live in a closet… I cannot even imagine a life now, where that is an option. Coming out is exhausting. It is sometimes gruesome. Sometimes you get kicked out of your home. Relationships end. I am not saying it is easy, but once you make it to the other side. The side where you know who your friends are, the side where you can build relationships and family beyond blood (#chosenfamily, please go here: Chosen Family: Stories of Queer Resilience), the side where you can be who you are. That side is worth the struggle.
Perhaps on the very same day, I read this article: The Secret Life of Secrets and it struck me how invasive of a secret it is to live in a closet. It’s not something that comes up in conversation once in a while, or something you think about a couple times a month. We are talking about hiding who you truly are. When I think back to my own time in the closet, I’m not surprised by my emotional state or actions. I am in awe that I made it through. And mostly, I’m in awe at how amazing life can be when you come out.