The closet I was confined to was a bottomless pit of bleak homoerotic narratives. I was content down there after a day of being “out.” I’d climb down a few steps as I walked through the corridors of my home before letting go and freefalling. No one actually knew I was falling, though. Not in the “real” world, not in my domestic space, and not even in that bottomless pit. I’d wave to people who acknowledged the pit in a fleeting moment before they were blurred out completely and I’d continue falling. Time managed to stand still in this place, so before I knew it I wasn’t quite sure if I was falling or if I was floating, suspended in mid-air. I always looked down, because if I looked up I’d see God. Yeah, I’d see God looking sternly down at me with two fingers on each hand suggestively rubbing each other. It was a kinda “I know what you did last summer, and every other week. And I’m not happy. Although, it doesn’t matter if I’m pissed off with your rampant queerness because I’m a figment of your imagination that stems from your anxiety which, by the way, is entirely your mothers fault.”
I might be reading into God’s face a bit too much.
God was miming the act of scissoring and looked really pissed off. It was like the God character from the Simpsons. Although you never saw his face (I think) you could probably imagine what he looked like. Matt Groening was never famed for his diversity.
So I’d try my best to ignore the lesbian god of hateful dyke positions and focus on the looming darkness that encompassed me. Was I falling or floating, again? Nothing was real in the pit. Sex tapes would float by that I assume Scissor God sent down to spite me. I’d look past Spit-Roast-Spectacular and contemplate the inevitable solid ground. Due to this ineffable “ground” I anticipated that I was subject to a multitude of possibilities of what the ground actually is. Should I succumb to this or just watch God scissor some more? God’s alright. This place was like Narnia only so repressed Freud would have loved to go strawberry picking in here and rub them all over his knob. If only my closet was as fantastic as the one from Narnia.
All of a sudden I thudded awake. I hit the ground. I’m meant to be getting married soon. The only problem was me being a massive sexually active queer. I didn’t even know when I was coming or going (sorry). Panic gripped me, maybe this is what the Harry Potter fans felt when Harry… Did… Something. Anyway
I’m at the bottom of the pit now (the bottomless status has been revoked therefore I shall now call it my power bottom pit – you can stop reading, honest). I felt lost and isolated. Who can truly understand what a queer person from a heavily religious family must feel like? Anyone who does is either doing their very best to remain invisible or has enough on their plate anyway. When saying “no” to arranged marriages is against the rules after a maximum of five years, one begins to feel hopeless. I didn’t know who to turn to. Then, I felt a comforting weight in my hand and I saw my phone.
Ah, my phone. My companion. My literal light through this heteronormative darkness*. In this device I had connections that could help me out of the pit and then fill it to the brim with dirt. Some of these connections would be in my own family. Without going into too much detail, I came out to my sister-in-law. She was the closest way of me coming out to my entire family and could help deter this arranged marriage. By the way, I met a potential husband last night and I’m honestly crapping myself. So I’m out to her. Pretty soon I’ll be out to everyone. Coming out is never an easy thing to do, regardless of your personal situation. Who knows where I’ll be in the near future but I am almost 100% sure my entire family won’t accept who I am.
As I write this blog I am somewhat apprehensive about reactions from certain people. People I once called my close friends who I would do almost anything for, would they abandon me? Would they pass harsh judgement on me? It’s time to stop hiding about gender and sexual identity. It’s time to be open about myself. I will not allow faceless groups to confine me and control the way I express myself.
Here’s to being a queer in 2015.
*I tried my best to avoid binaries but they creep up on you, you know.