On this past Sunday (October 11), Americans celebrated the freedom of living openly and raised their voices in support those who came out as lesbian, gay, bisexual, and/or transgender (LGBT) to loved ones. National Coming Out Day 2015 was a day bursting with love.
For some, coming out marks rebirth – the beginning of a new life. For others, it is a page in a book – part of a larger story. For most, it comes as a challenge. Coming out means being transparent, baring your soul, and taking risks. And it challenges the convictions of those on the receiving end, daring others to respond with unconditional love. The weight of coming out is not to be diminished. It’s rarely easy, but it’s always life changing. Some say that, in an ideal world, coming out shouldn’t be a “big deal.” Perhaps. I say that any time a person shares a piece of their personal experience, it’s a big deal. Own your coming out experience(s). It’s your life and it’s your truth. No one can take that from you. So tell it the way you want to tell it.
But the journey doesn’t end with the words, “I’m gay (or transgender, or whatever you’re coming out as).” Life continues. It’s important that we talk about coming out, but it’s also absolutely vital to consider the days, months, and years since that first coming out. Because, like life, coming out is a process. And it has powerful effects on how we think of ourselves and live our lives.
It’s been five years since 2015 True Fellow and 40 of the Forty Honoree Bentley Burdick first came out. His latest blog post comes as an open letter and reflection on not just coming out, but being out every single day.
To Whom it May Concern,
I want to start this open letter off with an explanation — not a justification of who I am or what I’m going to say, but the reasons why I’m writing this. October 25th, 2015 will mark my five year anniversary since I finally came out as transgender. Funny thing is that I don’t know what the real anniversary date might be. That time period of my life is largely a blur (faded out for a variety of reasons) and I’m not one for celebrating anniversaries or holidays. Plus I didn’t know many other trans people back then and this was before the explosion of Tumblr — I honestly had no clue that people actually felt the need to mark and celebrate this day, some as a second birthday while others as at least a point to have a few drinks, maybe a muffin (this is how people party, right? Muffins?), and reminisce. So, years later, I made a vaguely educated guess and chose October 25th as the day I would celebrate my anniversary of identifying as more masculine leaning in my gender.
Five years. A lot has happened these past five years — I’ve moved just as many times, none of them all that wanted or done willingly. I’ve dropped out of high school, worked a myriad of jobs, found myself the interest of local and national organizations. Watched myself go from powerless to, slowly and on a rather bumpy upclimb, looking around to see that I am now in control of my own fate and reality. If five years ago you told me I’d be here now I would have laughed at you. Four years ago I would have cried. Three years ago I would have felt nothing. Two years ago I would have let myself hope. A year ago I would have just nodded and smiled. Today? Today, I write this letter to everyone. To those that have rejected me, to those that have laughed, to those that haven’t understood. I write this to the strangers in the street who, over the years, have stared at me, trying to figure out my gender — and I write to those same strangers now who, when I walk down the street, can’t see anything to question most of the time (though the yells of ‘faggot’ don’t do much for me). This letter is for my family, my friends, my dear readers, and, more importantly than that, this letter is for me.
Read the rest of Ben’s letter (and other pieces like it) at Caught Under Glass.