Throughout my school days, I was jumping between girlfriends like bed lice in a backpackers. Little did I know these relationships would soon be deemed beards rather than soul mates. Due to my rural upbringing, I didn’t have much queer representation in my life. I grew up with 3 brothers, one of which is my twin, the spitting image of heterosexuality. “You’re Gay!” was tossed around a lot throughout my childhood, of course, my brothers weren’t gently cluing me in on my repressed sexuality, it was more so used as an emasculating term. I can confidently say this was not the most inviting welcome mat, or shall I say farewell mat from the closet into the queer community so I kept my boots on and hid amongst the clothes.
The shower is where I confronted my identity most. Maybe it was the warmth of the water (until someone turned on the kitchen tap), or the peace and quiet where my thoughts would sit by the drain. It was a combination of these things, but the most appealing thing was the condensated wall. I would sit, tracing my finger, writing “Am I gay?” In a font that would suggest I was a calligrapher in a past life. Eventually, this turned to “I am gay”. I enjoyed the ephemerality of the condensated wall. Unlike pen and paper, I would wash away my thoughts with a splash of water and no one would know.
I was 15 when I became comfortable with what the condensation said. I even started adding a full stop to the sentence. It was decided. At the time I was in a relationship with one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. We were wonderful together, I remember nights of us in tears laughing, practising our dancing for the school ball by holding a book up between us. We couldn’t do it. Maybe we were bad dancers or maybe I was gay (definitely the latter). So after a message saying “We need to talk” and a stroll through our neighbourhood I took off my boots and got on the farewell mat. She basically held the door open for me, it was one of the most heartfelt and supportive moments I’ve experienced. It was wonderful. After our tragic breakup due to semi-foreseen circumstances, she became one of my best friends.
I would sit, tracing my finger, writing “Am I gay?
Next on the agenda was telling my family. Surprisingly to me, they had already pinned it and didn’t bat an eye. I would be lying to say I wasn’t disappointed that there was no big reveal for them, well, for me, I am a theatre kid after all. Everyone was very supportive, even if sometimes my queerness wasn’t encouraged, I'm grateful it was accepted.
Next, was to spread the word amongst the school. I wasn’t prepared for a one-on-one coming out moment for every individual in my life so I found my friends with the biggest mouths and once again took off my boots and opened the door. It was surprising to me that “coming out” wasn’t just a one-off experience. Being in a smaller rural school, it didn’t take long for the news to spread, and for me to get called into the counsellor's office, I was asked “Are you okay with your sexuality” many times to which I responded gleefully “yes”. I was never bullied for my sexuality upfront. I knew kids talked behind my back but I was happy to have friends and family who embraced and accepted me, barefoot.
