Mar 24, 2021
1 mins read
So a little while back in a Zoom gathering with a few girlfriends I confessed I was nowhere near (and would never be anywhere near) coming out as nonbinary. We were in a bigger and broader conversation but all the same I felt that little inner record-scratch moment. I knew my friends would prick their ears and I also knew I couldn't un-say what I'd said.
Over the next few weeks I kept thinking of these three friends and how their loveliness and kindness helped me feel safe enough to disclose anything at all. On my mind, too, was another friend - who'd come out as nonbinary a few months ago. I'd been feeling happy for them, impressed by them - and I'd also comfortably settled into my nest of: ha, that's never going to be me brave enough to do that!
Honestly, I'm a fan of sitting around in Chickenshit Alley for a while. (That's me, that's where I was. Not speaking for anyone else!) For me, there's something very refreshing about ackowledging that it's not that I can't do something, it's that I am not willing. Over these few weeks I began to know the risk of coming out wasn't nearly as dangerous as my body and mind were telling me. I wasn't so much afraid as I was, conditioned. Conditioned by my own family of origin, by schooling. "Why you gotta make such a big deal about yourself?"
Do I really "make a big deal" by simply saying who I am, naming who I am? I don't think so. (And also, just a pro-tip: people are permitted to "make a big deal", it's allowed!) I've been on this precipice a few times before, with other personal disclosures I've made public. The feelings are always the same: fear, trepidation, but more relevantly: a mounting pressure. The pressure to Say Something, SAY SOMETHING!
Today, whatever else is happening - the pressure's over. I'm out.
My name is Kelly - and my pronouns are they/them!
Thank you for your fantastic support!