Happy National Coming Out Day… Celebrate With Your VOTE!

We are less than a month out from the US elections on November 8, standing at the crossroads of love and fear, knowing that once again, voters will help determine whose lives matter. In my book, all of the anti-trans legislation across America should be enough to send republicans packing. But of course, that’s not the thing that’ll do it. Overturning Roe, though- seems to have sent motivation to many. Good. It’s all the same conversation, really, a political party that is trying to (continue to) legislate a sickly twisted version of Christianity onto all of us. But the cishet rank and file, unless they both know AND support a trans human, likely wouldn’t rush to the polls in any great numbers to save us.

Perhaps I am cynical, but it’s evidence-based cynicism. AIDS brought home the need to be visible, to be counted, and to get LOUD. We’d been talking about it since the 1960’s (at least) and Stonewall became the catalyst for organizing, for insisting, that we be seen and counted. I was 3 years old that late June of 1969 when so much began to change. In 1981, when the first cases of AIDS began to present (and they initially called it GRID…) I was just 15. I was a lonely kid trying desperately to survive high school.

It would be years before it occurred to me that (most) gay men are simply not attracted to trans women, even closeted pre-transition girls like I was. It’s an energy thing. Feminine gay men have a hard enough time out there, I was “doomed.” The one semblance of a “boyfriend” I had briefly at 18 was an addicted pathological liar, and a full on mess. He was handsome, and gregarious, and he said he loved me, but his energy was wildly unstable. What I wanted was so many worlds away from my reality at the time, I just kept living mostly in my head, making the best of a life I did not enjoy, and didn’t much want.

My home life had been so unstable that what I truly craved was stability. “Normalcy.” The queer world I found in 1983 and 84 Atlantic City and Philadelphia felt far too chaotic to me. I wanted children. I wanted a home. I wanted peace and order. I wanted to live visibly and not in the shadows. I could not figure out how to have those things as myself. Then, a job as a fast food manager introduced me to a whole new set of people. People who accepted me into their lives. And I met a young woman I connected with, and fell in love. Together, maybe we’d save each other?

Just days after turning 22 I was married with a child on the way. I did my level best to work hard and make a home. We did get some extra help we hadn’t asked for in the form of a loan to buy a house. So at 22 I was also a homeowner. Living one part of my dreams, having closed myself off to all the other parts: To the education I wanted but did not pursue. To the world I thought I had no place in. I was still a kid, really, and now I had a kid. Then another, 6 years later. Then my wife left and my world crashed down around me.

In all reality I spent the next 16 or so years fulfilling the promises I made in 1987. Trying to be the best parent I could be. The drive to be a good and loving parent kept me alive. In 2011 a second marriage came to an end. By then, I’d collected a few college credits, but no degree. And I had a job working for the worst boss ever, on an autopilot fueled by black coffee, cigarettes, alcohol, and clever banter. By the end of 2012 I left that job by “mutual” decision, and, as we come up on ten years since stepping away from all that, so very much has changed.

I spent many years rejecting who and what I knew I was. I couldn’t see the possibility of a stable life, any opportunity, and certainly no family, by accepting the path set before me. So I pretended it was not mine. I pretended I was “one of them” because I knew my family would never make room for one of me. It was a point on which they were crystal clear, and I was too afraid to even try. Therapy was never offered. Not to me. Love was conditional at best, and compliance and conformity more highly prized than my soul could ever hope to be.

I came out (publicly) as queer in October 2012, having started to date my current partner in July of that year. I wasn’t going to be in a relationship with an out queer man and ask him to ever hide or pretend on my account. I came out again, publicly, in March of this year, this time as trans. This time as the One I’ve known myself to be since about the time Stonewall was happening -Maybe even a bit earlier.

So I am Out to this world, more or less. Even good friends deadname me. I guess I was that good of an actor for a very, very long time. (I was NOT.) I do my best these days, with our little podcast, to encourage clarity in a world gone mad. I’ve raised my hand to say, “if you’re coming for us, you’re coming for me, too. I’m exactly the thing I ran from for decades, and I must be counted as such.”

Truly, if there isn’t a Blue Tsunami in November, I fear for what comes next. We need more than a wave of Democrats, we need to push back hard against Republican fascism before it is too late. it’s almost too late, folks. But we have this little window on November 8 to decide who we are as a nation, and whether or not we really do stand for freedom. 2016 was a very sad election year, and we’re still learning just how bad and how criminal it all was. And we’re seeing many of our citizens in their true light, and it isn’t pretty. I’m not one of them. I was never one of them. I’m ashamed for ever even trying to fit in.

All of us under the LGBTQ+ Umbrella, owe it to the kids coming out, the adults coming out, our brave ancestors and our future generations — to make this world safer for them than it is just now. They shouldn’t have to wait, worry or wonder. I was too afraid back in the 80’s to raise my hand. I knew I would be completely alone, at least for a time, and I didn’t trust myself enough for the journey. I didn’t value myself enough for the truth. The God I’d prayed to didn’t answer me- didn’t lift this burden from me. So I was sure I was the one who was wrong. I was raised being told I was wrong.

I’ll do what I can do to offer love and support and clarity in this world where ignorant, calloused politicians are trying to drag us all back to the hellscape that was my coming of age. They want us in the closet. They want us hiding or on the run. They want to mock us back into line. Especially, right now, trans folk. I hope We won’t let them. I hope all those folks who call themselves allies will vote and vote blue.

My hope for you, if you are considering coming out, is that you can do so safely. My hope for you is that you don’t lose your home, your support system, or your family -unless of course you are fully prepared to do so. I came out because there was no more hiding. I owed it -finally- to myself to tell my story. to Be the one who tells my story. I’m still figuring out what it all means. Still fearful of losing even more than I’ve already lost.

Hiding was hard. Not hiding is hard, too. But it is real. I’ll spend the rest of my life unlearning things. Trauma, packed in tight layers, is a bitch to unpack. For every parent that supports their trans kids, I thank you. For every one who was willing to learn and grow to nurture these brilliant beings, I salute you. And for every one trying to shame you, degrade you, or criminalize excellent parenting — I hope their day is coming November 8, and they go back under their rock. Maybe with one of the books they’re trying to ban. Perhaps, with the free time, they’ll actually read it now.

Happy National Coming Out Day. May we all find our pride, our truth, our authenticity, our humanity, and our Love. I am certain we deserve it.

Peace, Lovelies

- MM

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