Best 217 quotes in «coming out quotes» category

I'm assuming you didn't just call me to come out of the closet to a blind woman' 'Oh, it's something I do everyday,' Kate said, enjoying Faith's sense of humor. 'I open up a phone book, randomly select a name, dial it, and when they answer, I proclaim I'm a lesbian and then hang up.

I mean, if I’m going to go to all the trouble of being gay and everything, I might as well tell people.

I mean, I really liked him to the point where being around him was sort of wonderful and painful all at the same time, you know?

I mean , I never even had to really come out to my parents. They always knew, and it was always okay. Or not even okay, better than that. Not something that had to be evaluated at all. It just was. Like having brown hair.

I'm finally coming to terms with the unalloyed insanity of being a writer. Now that's coming out.

I'm still not totally sure I know what's true about me.

I never dreamed that one day I would be married to a woman, and that my dad's position at Focus would divide me from my family, rather than keep us focused on it, but that's what happened.

I quit eating meat in 1976, the same year I turned fifteen, came out, and went to my first gay rights rally (not in that order). When I say that I 'came out,' I mean that I resolved to never lie about my love for women, never deliberately pass for straight, and never deny a lover by calling her 'him.' To do so, I felt, would be to betray not only the women I desired, but my deepest self. My decision to quit meat was equally simple. Somehow, through the confluence of midseventies influences, I knew that vegetarianism was a particularly healthy way to eat. One day, quite suddenly, I realized: If I didn't need to eat meat to stay alive, then eating meat was killing for pleasure. I couldn't live with myself, wouldn't be the nonviolent person I believed myself to be, if I killed other beings--beings who had their own desires--merely to satisfy my desire for the taste of their flesh. Looking back, I see that both decisions, coming out and quitting meat, are about the interplay of desire and integrity. Sometimes integrity means being true to your desires, and sometimes integrity requires you to refuse your desires. I also notice that both decisions were about bodies and consent. A primary tenet of gay liberation is that what consenting people do with each other's bodies is nobody else's business. And, of course, eating meat is something you do to somebody else's body without their consent.

In that moment, I wanted to tell this stranger, this Merle, this girl from the tiny island of Montserrat, that I had commensurate preferences too, but I couldn’t be a brave warrior like her. I wanted to tell her about Morris. I wanted to sing his name out into the night. His name is Morris. He is my Morris and he always been my Morris. He’s a good-hearted man, a special man, a sexy man, a history-loving man, a loyal man, a man who appreciates a good joke, a man of many moods, a drinking man, and a man with whom I can be myself completely. Yes, I was in the throes of a Malibu-and-Coke-soaked madness, a madness that could lead to the demise of my life as I’d hitherto known it. But I was on the verge.

I reached for his other hand, which he quickly accepted and I pulled him up into a hug. I didn't know what the other kids in the room were thinking or saying or doing. And I didn't care. I had Jamie in my arms, and that was all the mattered.

Isabelle snorted. 'All the boys are gay. In this truck, anyway. Well, not you, Simon.' 'You noticed' said Simon. 'I think of myself as a freewheeling bisexual,' added Magnus. 'Please never say those words in front of my parents,' said Alec. 'Especially my father.' 'I thought your parents were okay with you, you know, coming out,' Simon said, leaning around Isabelle to look at Alec, who was — as he often was — scowling, and pushing his floppy dark hair out of his eyes. Aside from the occasional exchange, Simon had never talked to Alec much. He wasn’t an easy person to get to know. But, Simon admitted to himself, his own recent estrangement from his mother made him more curious about Alec’s answer than he would have been otherwise. 'My mother seems to have accepted it,' Alec said. 'But my father — no, not really. Once he asked me what I thought had turned me gay.' Simon felt Isabelle tense next to him. 'Turned you gay?' She sounded incredulous. 'Alec, you didn’t tell me that.' 'I hope you told him you were bitten by a gay spider,' said Simon. Magnus snorted; Isabelle looked confused. 'I’ve read Magnus’s stash of comics,' said Alec, 'so I actually know what you’re talking about' A small smile played around his mouth. 'So would that give me the proportional gayness of a spider?' 'Only if it was a really gay spider,' said Magnus, and he yelled as Alec punched him in the arm. 'Ow, okay, never mind.

It's Miranda who speaks up. "You're gay," she says, with complete seriousness. "And I love you.

I smile as I slowly make my way back home. I can take all the time I want because this is my night and my world. It is now my world more than ever.

I was unable to deny my love for Jesus, but equally unable to make my love toward women disappear.

I think you've got the wrong idea. I like women." "I do too." A light burned in Deacon's eyes that sent something sizzling through Shelby's body. "Most of the time. Nothing like sweet perfume and soft curves, is there?" Shelby didn't say anything. He couldn't break Deacon's mesmerizing gaze. "Nothing except the hot, hard body of a man all sweaty and furious after a game of tag football that turned violent and ended with dirt in places dirt isn't meant to go. Or a man's mouth on your cock, god, there is nothing like a man sucking you off, Thursday. Have you ever been sucked off by a man?

I took note of a couple of interesting things during my coming out. First was that I didn’t have to come out only once. I had the conversation multiple times with multiple friends.

It's okay to be afraid. Sometimes there are good reasons to be.

it's often said that knowing who you are, or at the very least possessing a sneaking suspicion of such early in life, is a blessing. The people who share this sentiment need to write it on a piece of paper, ball it up, and then proceed to pour barbecue sauce all over it as they eat it. Early self awareness is a blessing only if you are comes with a support system and an education. If you don't have those, it's easy to find yourself feeling stuck and sullen. I learned a certain part of my identity very early, but it was met with near-instant confirmation of how unwelcome that part of my identity was to those surrounding me.

It's official, then. Everyone knew I was gay before I did.

It's the first time I've said those words out loud. I pause with my hands on the steering wheel, waiting to feel something extraordinary. The light turns green.

It was duck apocalypse!

I've always wanted to wake up one day in a world where I liked the right people, and they lied me in return. I worry it'll never happen.

Lord, how come she asking me this now? A colony of ants starts crawling all over my scalp, but I’m too afraid to attack them in case she interprets my discomfort. This is too much. Anything is a big word that can accommodate all things, and everything, and something that, yes, she needs to know eventually, but it ain’t easy giving voice to the love that brings shame.

Make no mistake, hiding one's true self away in a closet and creating a facade of heterosexuality is not without its consequences; one being that no-one ever knows the real you. The closet may appear to have a degree of safety but from my experience they are very unhealthy places and do all kinds of destructive things to individuals psychologically, emotionally and behaviourally. The damage of fear, shame and self-loathing from an existence inside the closet is often projected unknowingly in the external life of the individual. They live with a false sense of safety, sometimes arrogance, behind the façade, unaware of the unconscious signals they give off that all is not well in their inner world. In or out of the closet; there is a price to pay. Each individual must weigh up the consequences of honesty and openness or secrecy and deception for themselves. When I see the impacts the closet has on individuals, there is never a moment of doubt; I made the RIGHT choice.

Make life easier for those around you, not harder. Every person you know is fighting their own great battle. Few of us ever know what those battles entail, and so often we say and do things that push others deeper and harder into the front lines of those battles. I know such has been the relentless lifelong reality for me. Love a person for the person that they are. Or dislike them for the person that they are. But don’t love or dislike them for the sole reason that they see people differently than you do. Don’t love or dislike them because they experience the world differently than you do. And please don’t eternally and wholly define them with sexual labels just because they were among those who finally found the courage to acknowledge their truth.

Make no mistake, hiding one's true self away in a closet and creating a facade of heterosexuality is not without its consequences. It may appear to have a degree of safety but from my experience they are very unhealthy places and do all kinds of terrible things to individuals psychologically, emotionally and behaviourally.....to say nothing of projection. The damage of the fear, shame, guilt and self-loathing that exist inside a closet are often reflected unknowingly in the external life of the individual. In or out of the closet; there is a price to pay. Each individual must weigh up the consequences of honesty, openness, secrecy and deception for themselves. Coming out, for most of us, is like an exorcism that releases us of the darkness we have lived in for years and caused us to believe awful things about ourselves. On the other side of the looking glass are freedom, light and life.

Most straight people, and many gay people, especially those who came of age more recently, don’t understand how momentous and difficult coming out was to men and women of this generation. It seems so obvious now, so banal.

My Man F*#$*& Another Pooper and I Went Into a Stupor.

Now whenever I left class to go to the boys' room, I worried that I would end up on the blue tiled floor in a puddle of piss and blood.

Once," Fran says, settling against the worktable, folding her arms, "I knew this kid who very bravely and bossily came out of the closet when she was only fourteen years old. She told me then that we can't choose who we love. We just love the people we love, no mattter what anyone else might want for us. Wasn't that you?

...oh, believe me, I feel that I'm the least homophobic person... ...I hate putting labels on people... ...I came up with a term, I call them 'Limbo Gay,' that's one, and I came up with another term, 'Straight Gay,' and then there's a new one I made up, I call them 'Dry Gay,' and then there's also 'Gay Gay' which is really the same as 'Really Gay'... ...but this doesn't mean I'm being homophobic, and this is something the gay community needs to be educated about... ...and a man who likes penis doesn't have to call himself gay, or bi, or confused, all he has to do is say to the woman, 'Look, I love you, but I'm a penis man, I like penis...' ...these gay men spend their entire lives lying about who they are, and so lying just becomes a way of life to them... ...these gay men are trying to live a life that isn't theirs to live, they don't belong in the straight world, they belong in the gay world... ...that doesn't make me homophobic...

Oh great, you too. So now I wear this label 'Queer' emblazoned across my chest. Or I could always carve a scarlet 'L' on my forehead. Why does everyone have to put you in a box and nail the lid on it? I don't know what I am—polymorphous and perverse. Shit. I don't even know if I'm white. I'm me. That's all I am and all I want to be. Do I have to be something?

Once I came out and told her I was gay, everything she thought about me changed. In her eyes, I was no longer the daughter she knew, or the daughter she raised, or the daughter she loved.

One additional piece of the coming out puzzle also fascinated me: the idea that the process, in and of itself, meant that I was announcing to family and friends what I liked to do in the bedroom. To my knowledge, none of my straight friends had similar burdens: “Mom, I love to be tied up!” or “Hey, Sis, did you know that nothing makes me happier than having my clitoris stimulated with a vibrating rod?” weren’t conversational sentiments among my heterosexual counterparts. I, on the other hand, had to accept the responsibility of announcing that I liked to have a man’s penis in my mouth.

On the way out, I hug Mum, holding her close. 'Thank you,' I whisper. 'For dinner - and for everything.' Mum smiles and strokes my cheek. 'There's nothing to thank me for.

People at work eyed me with varying degrees of suspicion or approbation, and a couple of them mistook me for the kind of guy who knew twelve different ways to tie a scarf and whether that scarf clashed with their purse. My helpful tip that most accessories were just needless expenses met with disappointment.

People talk about coming out as though it’s this big one-time event. But really, most people have to come out over and over to basically every new person they meet. I’m only eighteen and it already exhausts me.

Please your mother: just lie around upstairs and smoke some pot. Be a revolutionary.

Pulling him all the way out, his c*#@ came free from his jeans with a thud, and my eyes went wide as saucers. This was not a penis but an anaconda. His d* was a weapon of mass destruction and could have had its own area code. To make matters more frightening, Peter was uncut. I was dealing with a hybrid: an anaconda turtle.

Samir loves Joe’s face. He studies it every day in class: a face as old as his own but already, in eighteen years, the cliffs and hills and odd proportions of its geography have been shaped by life’s weather. Samir likes to observe the ever-watchful green eyes, hidden in their shadowy alcoves over the at nose and cheekbones, and the heavy brow that scrunches up with Joe’s moods – all those sculptural planes could have been carved by Easter Islanders. en there’s the pout of his lips, the pucker of their concentration or the twist of their anger. But most of all, Samir examines the thoughts as they cross the wide-open landscape of the face. Tries hard to read their cloud shapes from the merest shadow.

She kissed me on the cheek, and my mom sang Theresa’s name from the open front door. She loves Theresa. I think she loves me more when I’m with her.

So he was queer, E.M. Forster. It wasn't his middle name (that would be 'Morgan'), but it was his orientation, his romping pleasure, his half-secret, his romantic passion. In the long-suppressed novel Maurice the title character blurts out his truth, 'I'm an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort.' It must have felt that way when Forster came of sexual age in the last years of the 19th century: seriously risky and dangerously blurt-able. The public cry had caught Wilde, exposed and arrested him, broken him in prison. He was one face of anxiety to Forster; his mother was another. As long as she lived (and they lived together until she died, when he was 66), he couldn't let her know.

Sometimes coming out isn't about us. It's not fair that we have to carry the emotional burden of sharing our secret and making sure the person we're coming out to is okay, but we make concessions for the people we care about. Besides, I may have run the scenarios for this conversation but my mom had been running scenarios about my entire life since the day she had learned she was pregnant with me.

So what do you do?" There it was. I was so comfortable that I forgot this stranger had no idea what my job was. Whenever I get asked the work question, I pause to assess the situation. A few checks I go through before making my decision to either answer, avoid the question, or stretch the truth are: (1) Does this person feel safe enough to disclose to without there being excessive discomfort or conflict? (2) Am I emotionally prepared to handle discomfort or conflict if they happen? And (3) Do I have an escape route if things end up not going well?

That casual kiss on my cheek would have meant nothing up until recently, I realized I was in love with him. Not that, 'I love you, man,' type of love. Nope. I was ass over teacup in love with my best friend. The 'let's get married and grow old together' type of love.

That was the moment when I knew I was in real trouble, that I might really be the kind of person you weren’t supposed to be.

The Auden/Kallman relationship had this to be said for it: It affirmed that it's better to be blatant than latent.

The closet does have a benefit. It provides safety. Which at times is important. But remember, as long as you are in there, two other things will be too. Fear and shame.

The funny thing about coming out is that ir relies on the belief that the information you're keeping about yourself is shameful. If you were raised to be somewhat shameless, it's less of a one-time shock and more like a lifelong rumble.

The idea of coming out is not a natural one in Asia as it goes against the whole tradition and the morals of Confucianism. What gays frequently do in Asia is they ‘come home’: they bring their partners home, into their family, once they are a stable couple, and things are therefore known without being spoken. That is our way here of becoming gay. The Asian way.