Celebrate!
It’s National Coming Out Day!
The coming out story. *Yawn*
Long-winded, I’ve never written this out. Here goes…
I spent the spring and summer of 2001 happily at the Bear beer busts every Sunday (in Cincinnati – when the Bear group was organized and jovial). I was surprised I had yet to run into my brother – he’d been out for many years in NYC and had just returned to Cincinnati.
Pride Weekend of that summer, after the parade, I saw him across the back patio. I decided it was time to be out with it.
I walked up behind him with a tap on the shoulder, “Happy Pride, bro!” He turned around shocked.
“What are YOU doing here?!”
“I’m here to celebrate Pride in Cincinnati.” I replied. The draft beer in my hand was shaking, my sense of humor could not disguise I was scared to death.
“Where’s your friends? Where’s Heather?” He asked.
I pointed over to the corner of the patio, “See that trucker and that cowboy over there… Those are my friends. I come here every Sunday for the bear thing.”
A moment passed. He stroked where whiskers would be on his cheeks with the aha look. “Oh, now I get it. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Good question. Why didn’t I tell anybody earlier?
I have no idea.
I spent the first 28 years of my life keeping insanely busy, avoiding relationships beyond friends. I worked my ass off, through high school, college and my first career-type job.
Leaving Columbus to start a company a few years later, I found myself delving into the pit of work that starting a business is all about (in a field which I had no real expertise).
So working around the clock, getting new business, tending to business, I existed.
I should mention, that in leaving my alma-mater, I stopped in the porn/comic store and my eyes fell on BEAR Magazine. I stared at it. Wandered around the store and looked back. Sure enough, Jack Radcliffe was staring back at me. Take me home, the magazine said.
The man behind the counter seemed harmless enough, besides, I was leaving this city for good. I made my purchase and took the brown paper bag out into the daylight.
That’s when I came out to myself.
The following years I would stump my toes online and through the ads in Bear. Eventually, after so many retreats from bad experiences, I stumbled on videochat. There I found folks who said I had a nice smile (I had never heard that before).
I found a fella in the area who coerced me to my first bear run in St Louis.
Defining moment: I sat on a bus heading to the Budwieser Brewery Tour, filled with furry faced men softly signing along to “Feeling Groovy” by Simon and Garfunkel.
Goosebumps covered me. At that point, I knew what I was doin was ok.
Fast forward to Pride day, surprising my brother. It was so good to share this facet of myself with him. I felt such relief. We spent the following afternoon just talking about all sorts of stuff and his perspective was welcome.
Next in line, I told my mom, and my partners at work who I’d known since 7th grade. No one took it particularly bad or good. Just that sort of “hmmmm” let me think on this. There was a tinge of support and relief I would guess.
The following week I was heading to San Jose for one o them there gay rodeos. I had it marked on the calendar at work as a holiday. “Where are you going Chris?” I was asked repeatedly.
I decided, ok. There’s no sense in this.
I took out everyone at work to lunch and along the way, I pretty much blurted out that I was going to a gay rodeo.
Everyone stopped walking.
“You’re kidding? Right?”
Naw. I wasn’t
Lunch was filled with really good questions like “Do you wear different outfits when you go out?” to “Do you have a secret name?”
All in all, I think everyone was relieved that I wasn’t this hermit that had no life outside of work. That I was enjoying myself. And the question most repeated, “What didn’t you tell us before?” (We would have kept our eyes out for “Bears”)
All in the space of one week, I told those most important to me. It’s not something I just blurt out in initial conversations with folks, as there are many other parts to my being that are equally defining. But it’s not something I hide.
I have a bear flag on my bumper.
I figure that’s good enough, for now.
I think I need to work on my pecs though. Musclebears are the new black.