The many gifts from coming out to ourselves.
An essay on what it means to declare who we are, as learned from and demonstrated by the queer beloveds in my life.
This week I’ve been thinking about how beautiful the act of coming out is; as a straight, cis-gender white woman, our heteronormative society doesn’t require me (or invite me) to go through the process of examining and then declaring who I am, what I’d like to be known as, and known for, and how the way I love shapes the way I move through the world, and I’d like to argue that it is a worthwhile and even vital practice that each of us should continually examine.
The names and titles and identifying markers we give ourselves is a holy, sacred practice; one of the most common conversations I get to have with people on a weekly basis is whether or not they get to claim the title “artist” (blanket name for “writer” / “poet” / “painter” / “actor” etc etc) for themselves. Sure, they write, sure, their chest burns with an unceasing fire when they read certain poems / musicians / movies / paintings / performances, sure, they stay up late at night pouring their soul onto paper and trying to find the perfect way to describe the feeling pulsing through their chest, but can they really call themselves an artist? When I insist that being an artist is a way of moving through the world and not what pays the rent or how often you get to tend to your work, I can feel their whole bodies relax, their spirits lighten. When we find the words and names to express who we are, we give shape to the home that is ourselves, the fortress that makes us up that no one can claim for themselves, that no one can take away. No one can tell me what to do with this inner room, or what to make of the garden growing (or not growing, SOS) inside me. No one can tell me that I can’t sleep with all the windows open, or which lights to keep on, how many candles is too many candles for one abode. No one can tell me what to call this place. That is for me to name.
I wonder what it would look like if we all continually came out to each other, and not in an obligatory way or as if it were some heavy confession to declare our true nature to those around us; I say this as someone who grew up in a religious culture where coming out as queer would be seen as ‘heartbreaking’ and ‘sinful,’ as if there is any such thing as the wrong kind of love, as if being made in the image of God means only if you resemble a far-off power figure with a beard and strong shoulders and lightning bolts and a button that led to a trap door under our feet with a straight-to-damnation chute awaiting beneath our feet, or otherwise like a compliant, quiet (read: voiceless, read: nameless) woman. What if we all started partaking in the practice of coming out as in declaring and claiming who we know ourselves to be? What are we missing by thinking this practice isn’t for everybody? What paths have been forged by our queer beloveds who have, out of necessity, out of life-saving proclamation, shown us the way?
Here is the gift within the gift of this practice: in order to declare who we are, we must first do the work of examining ourselves, our lives, and where we feel the most ourselves, what we adorn our bodies in to feel the most ourselves, and what embodied love looks like - towards ourselves and towards others. If we are to declare who we are, we must first meet ourselves and discover what you know to be true. And, if we’re being honest, that can be terrifying, because for our first go at it, we might not come up with much. It is Life Work to meet ourselves. So we’d better get to it.
I want each of us to feel free to introduce ourselves in the truest, free-est (real word) ways. I want us to feel safe, able, and encouraged to do the tender work of asking ourselves who we are and what names and titles and identifying words make us feel at home in ourselves. I want us to do this as many times as we need to, meeting ourselves over and over again, letting ourselves be surprised by what we find. And I want to live in a world where it is safe for all of us to do this in our fullest expressions.
And while we work on that safe world, I want us to fight ferociously for those of us who don’t have the privilege of having our identities and orientations and self-expressions questioned and attacked.
Let us uphold a world where we can all meet each other in the truest, softest, fullest ways.
Ways to participate in protecting our queer community
In Canada:
The 519 (in Toronto) - a community space and organization that provides services and programming for the LGBTQ+ community
Rainbow Railroad - helps at-risk LGBTQ+ individuals around the world find safety and relocate to Canada.
Buddies In Bad Times Theatre - a world leader in developing queer voices and stories for the stage. Buddies offers a year-round program that includes a full season of queer theatre, new works festivals, artist residencies, and intergenerational training and education initiatives
In the US:
The Trevor Project - offers crisis services and advocacy for LGBTQ+ youth
The Drag Defence Fund - fighting to protect against threats of censorship for drag performers across the country
GLAAD.org - a database of organizations that offer advocacy and services for the transgender community.
Have an organization you love? Add it in the comments! Have ways you are showing up for your beloveds beyond donating to organizations? Share that too :)
Ways to connect here at Gentle Company
Poetry Club - Tuesday, June 13th at 7pm EST
Poetry Club is the internet’s chillest-yet-tender club in all the land. Bring a poem you’ve written or a poem you love based on the month’s theme. This month: Poems On Identity.
No need to register for paid Substack subscribers; a Zoom link will automatically be sent to you - if you’re a free subscriber, you can register for Poetry Club here!
In Good Company - Sunday, June 25th at 10:30am - 12pm EST
Our next gathering of In Good Company (a monthly writing workshop) is going to be Sunday, May 25th. We’ll be writing about the way introduce ourselves.
No need to register - a Zoom link will be sent out to paid Substack subscribers 24 hrs before.
The Collective Conversation - Tuesday, June 27th at 7pm EST
This month for The Collective Conversation, we’re discussing identity, perception, and the way we show up in the world - what parts of ourselves we choose to share, and when/ where/ with whom we feel most ourselves.
Register here for this event!
With love and tenderness,
xo jess.