I met the gaze
of each the six men and women staring at me.
I carefully considered what I would say next. And then, for what now seems like the
umpteenth time, I jumped off that proverbial cliff.
A friend I hadn’t
seen since the summer invited me for Simchat Torah dinner. Eager to see her, I accepted and spent the
days prior to the holiday looking forward to what promised to be an enjoyable
evening. Naturally, the large table of
slightly over a dozen young professionals split into two conversations. Immediately I hit it off with the people on
my end. We were all loud, opinionated, and
eager to poke fun at new acquaintances. The
perfect meal. By night’s end I, like
many of the others gathered, still hadn’t caught the names of those on the
other end of the table. An icebreaker
ensued. The prompt: sharing your high
school nickname. I was one of the last
people to share and seemed to disappoint the people gathered. I didn’t have a nickname. I dropped out before I underwent that rite of
passage. Interests piqued, the people
closest to me with whom I’d been speaking the entire evening wanted to know why
I dropped out. I wasn’t eager to get
into the struggles of my youth, my depression, and learning to come to terms
with my sexuality, so I tried to downplay any interest. The conversation restarted but soon the spotlight
once again fell upon me. People really
wanted to know why I didn’t finish high school the normal way. I guess they sensed a story.
If you’ve read
my blog consistently over the past two+ years you know that, though far from
closeted, I don’t believe in placing my private life and my sexuality on
display for the world to see. Perhaps
its rooted in tznious, perhaps I’m still afraid of having to deal with
bigots in otherwise docile settings, or perhaps I just don’t think its anyone’s
business but my own. Maybe its all
three. Anyway, on this occasion I
decided to just go for it, again, and briefly cover all the bases that led to
my dropping out. Necessarily, this
focused on my sexuality. I think people
were . . . shocked, fascinated, intrigued, compassionate, and sympathetic. And then, when I finished the speedy version
of my life, the questions started. None
based on ill will, and none stupid, but still, this was not one of the topics
of conversation I considered upon entering the meal.
Coming out is
always both annoying and terrifying. I
don’t know how people are going to react and, frankly, I find the experience
bothersome (after all, heterosexuals don’t need to announce their sexuality to
the world, why should I?). So why did I
do it? Why did I give in to the peer pressure and share my story? There was one major reason. Over the past few months I noticed a shift in
the gay demographic within my community.
Specifically, the more vocal and visible gay men moved elsewhere. Though there are new members of the kehilah,
young blood so to speak, my limited interactions
with these men and women leave me doubtful that they would do a good job
expressing the needs facing the larger gay frum community. Let me be clear, I do not want to fill anyone’s
shoes and take on a public role. I’m content
with my privacy and don’t want to change that.
But, and perhaps this is me being conceited, I think I will at times
have to be the local individual to vocalize those needs and work on causing
change on a slow but steady basis. I
guess I saw last night as the first of what will probably be too many question
and answer sessions on this topic. I
just hope I’m up to the task and that I can accomplish it without infringing on
my privacy too much.
*minor spelling edit, 10/10/12
*minor spelling edit, 10/10/12
