A TEACHER’S WARNING KEPT ME SILENT
Growing up in small- town Quebec in the ’ 80s, I was not your stereotypical girl. While other girls were playing dress- up and dolls, I was traipsing through the woods, out on the lake fishing and roughhousing with the boys.
As I got older, I became aware that the way that I was acting was not the way I should be acting. As a teenager, my tomboy nature continued. I took no interest in anything “girly ” and was content playing video games in my room. I wanted nothing to do with boys.
The first time I remember questioning my sexuality was when I was 15 years old. I was sitting on the school bus and the thought that I could be gay crossed my mind. I squashed it down, telling myself I wanted attention and nothing more.
At that point, my only insight into anything or anyone gay was something a high school teacher had clearly stated to our class: “Gay people get AIDS and die.” That was enough to get me to ignore and suppress my sexuality for years.
When I graduated from high school at 17, I moved to Montreal to attend CEGEP. I was thrilled at the opportunities that big- city life would bring. At first, I stayed in a safe and reasonably quiet bubble. Hell, I even started dating a man. But I knew, deep down, that something wasn’t right.
My feelings slowly started to creep back in 2002, when I was 20 years old. I was studying to be a nurse while working a few parttime jobs to help pay for school and the apartment I shared with my sister.
I found myself increasingly distracted during lectures. I had been dating the same guy for over six months but found our connection was starting to fail.
I had no idea what was wrong or what to do. After an exceptionally bad day, I sat in my room and cried. I sobbed for what felt like an eternity, not knowing what was wrong. And thus began three months of darkness and despair.
I decided to quit school. A job at a fast- food restaurant kept me from thinking too much about what was really bothering me. At home, I sat in the dark and did nothing. All I knew was that something didn’t feel right.
Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I’m gay. But I still couldn’t say it out loud.
My world shattered at t he thought. What did this mean? What would I do when my parents disowned me? Who would love me? So I turned to the only resource I could think of: the Internet.
Now, I can assure you, typing “Am I a lesbian?” into any search engine will not — I repeat, will not — bring you the answers you are looking for! In fact, it led to another huge freakout on my part.
So I tried message boards and chat rooms in the hope of finding the information I needed. One evening, I struck up a conversation with a woman in her 40s. I wanted to talk to someone, get a little guidance.
She was so kind, and withstood an hour of questions along the lines of, “How did you know?” “How did you tell people?” “What’s it like to be gay?”
Near the end of our conversation, I took a deep breath and, behind the safety of my computer screen, told a complete stranger that I was gay.
Her answer was so simple, yet deeply profound to little 20- yearold me: “It’s going to be okay.”
And with that, I resolved to come out to those around me. When I said the words aloud to my closest friend, she hugged me and reassured me that she loved me.
As I became more comfortable with my sexuality, I became more comfortable with myself as a person. My style became more masculine. With great excitement and trepidation I bought my first men’s suit, and wore it like a badge of honour.
I am fortunate. I haven’t lost a single friend or family member. I work for an amazing company that continues to stand behind diversity and its employees. Combine that with an amazing partner and two wonderful “fur babies,” and I have all that I can ask for.
No, the road hasn’t been perfect. I have spent a lot of time educating people about LGBT rights and gender issues.
When I came out, I had no role models. There weren’t people out there I could look to when I was questioning myself. Since coming out. I have told myself that I would be that role model for anyone who needed someone to speak to.