Coming out. Two words, and, honestly, one of the hardest concepts to grasp, especially if you have to do it yourself. I’m only almost sixteen, and I’ve already come out to my entire family, most of my friends and some of my teachers as a lesbian. People tell me I’m brave, but, to be honest, it felt so natural to me. Of course, I was scared to death, but, being a naturally open person, I felt like I was lying by not telling the people I love about who I am.


In writing this coming out story, I asked my younger sister and closest friend what exactly I did to come out. “I can’t remember how I came out!” I told her. She responded simply with, “You didn’t! Well, not to me at least. You didn’t tell me. I started to assume, and then it was like… okay… It didn’t just happen. It wasn’t like a movie regular kinda coming out. I think they way you told mom and dad was like that. But for me, it wasn’t straightforward. Get it? Straight forward!”


It seems like most of my coming out stories have turned out to be that way. Most of my close friends had already seen it coming, and took my news really well. I felt so accepted and comfortable with myself for a while. But after a few months of knowing who I am and being comfortable with it, I decided I needed to tell my parents.


I remember distinctly the first time I told my mother that I thought I was gay. Being a traditional and a tad conservative woman from England, my mother didn’t take my news very well. At first, laughed at the idea and said something along the lines of “Well, just don’t become one of those, with your hair cut all short…” and giving the stereotypical lesbian description. I was so hurt, I didn’t say much more to her about it at the time. In tears, I went back upstairs, feeling defeated and rejected. My older sister, who I don’t normally get along with, saw I was upset, and demanded to know why I was crying. I mentioned what my mom had said and my sister went storming downstairs and yelled at my mom. Normally, I hate it when my family fights, but at that moment I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and love towards my sister.


My father was a completely different story. He is very traditional, growing up in India and being very academically and science-focused. Before I told him, I asked him what his opinion on gay rights was, and he responded well, saying, “Well, people can’t change who they are…” etc. then he followed his response with a question: “Why? Do you think you are?” I told him I was questioning my sexual orientation and my dad began to get defensive, telling me how could I possibly know when I was so young? And that he knew me, and there was no way I could be gay. I had to bring the topic up various times, so he would know that it’s not just a phase, it’s who I am. My most vivid memory of telling my father was the time he had reduced me to tears, and I had my mother and sisters defending me, standing by my side and telling him that he could not yell at me for who I was.

While half of my coming out experiences were positive and half were negative, I learned to be a stronger person through all of this, and my family grew stronger as a unit. We learned to deal with the good, bad, and the ugly. My parents at times had to stand by me, defending me when they didn’t necessarily want to, saying, “She’s my daughter, and she can’t help the way she is.”