Today is Coming Out Day 2016 and I would like to tell you a little story.

It took me 27 years to admit I wasn’t straight.

15 of those years were spent in me being a teenager in denial: fending off whispered catechism-class speculations that I was lesbian and generally being a homophobic transphobic everything-phobic asshole.

8 of those years were spent being a shit ally. The “LGBT folks have a mental condition let’s have a pity party” ally. The ally that equated polyamoury with untrustworthiness. The ally that said her crushes on women were a result of being in all-girls’ institutions all her life and see, see, this is why you should send your daughters to co-ed schools. The ally that ignorantly misgendered Brandon Teena after watching “Boys Don’t Cry” and said “the most traumatic thing about the rape is that it was proof that she wasn’t a man”. Even as I write this down I cringe, partly because I am still guilty of misgendering people, and still struggle to ask about what pronouns they prefer. Partly because how dare I.

Five of those years were mired in confusion, self-loathing and pain. I was a newly married woman who still didn’t know if she was bi or not. Who went to Queer Pride meetings masquerading as straight because would I be lying if I said I was bi? I tended to like men more. Did that mean I wasn’t, what about that part that loved women. Where did it lie? Where could I place it?

And what was I going to tell my husband? That his wife had an entire side to her that he had no clue about? Would he feel cheated? Disgusted? Would he be afraid that I would cheat on him? By then I’d seen enough internet links on bi-phobia and bi-erasure, heteroflexibility, discrimination, to fear that he would either mistrust me or joke about threesomes. By then I was hardly sure myself what I was.

I came out to my husband two days after the 2013 Supreme Court verdict on Section 377, when he asked me why the verdict disturbed me as much as it did. It’s horrible, yes, he said, and it makes absolutely no sense, but you haven’t gotten back to normal since then. What happened?

I told him.

He was shocked when he heard this, and tried too hard to pretend nothing had changed for two days after. It hurt more than I would care to admit and I was sure everything I was afraid of had just happened. There were times when I wondered whether I should have just shut up.

Well I’m glad I didn’t because on the third day he asked me if we could talk and sat me down. He said a lot of stuff I don’t exactly remember now. But one thing stood out, and it was this: “You really only get to know what kind of ally you are when someone you love comes out to you. I’m sorry. This is who you are and I wouldn’t want you to change a thing.”

He has not budged from that stand since. There have been, quite literally, times when he has read up and listened and asked, listening with an excited kind of interest. There have been times when he has asked me if I would like to be with a woman. When I was pregnant, he wrote me an emotional letter telling me if I ever wanted to express my being bi, I should. “It won’t change anything between us, Anu. We will always be husband and wife”.

Our relationship is messy, complicated, sometimes sweet and sometimes stormy, but I know for a fact that this is a man I can trust. A man who has taken me for all I am and loves me because of it all, not inspite of it. He is my biggest source of validation.

Three of those years have been spent embracing this part of me that I spent so long rejecting. Spent delivering smart zingers to peoplr who call me bi-curious because I have never slept with women (not that my track record with men was any better) (cmon, “nine years is a long time to be just curious” sounds pretty clever I think). It’s been spent learning to respect the way people see themselves because a man I loved once did that to me. It’s been spent loving myself and loving everyone. It’s been spent learning and accepting that I still don’t know shit. And you know what? That’s okay. You learn something new everyday.

Edit: Someone asked me to what end my speaking out was. What purpose did it serve? Good question. When I was a little girl I could have done with a voice like this. There are kids who cannot come out, will never come out, can never envision support. Well, look below, my darling one. See what you will find. Support. Love. Acceptance. Know that you will find it whenever you are ready to do so, please. <3

This piece was originally posted on Anu’s FB timeline.

This may be a shocking letter to anyone who thinks they know me well.  I think it is better to reveal the truth before it is too late and things get worse. You can hate me lifelong for this, unfriend me from your facebook list, delete my contact from your mobile or choose to abuse me through your emails and phone calls.

Yes, I am gay/homosexual.  I chose to tell you this now, as there is enough strain in the relationships around me. I chose to get married out of peer and family pressure to adopt a conventional life. This was a big mistake. I take the blame for ruining my wife’s mental and physical health by not being the ideal husband material that she and society would have expected of me. But I am also quite clear about not to wanting to live in this make-believe world, which I am sick and tired of.  I am pretty sure Maitri* is too. This marriage was dead long back, according to me. Everyone in the family and a few close friends around us know that there has been a strain in the relationship. I chose to stay away from my family during my higher studies in the middle of this strain, just to do justice to my academics, which was then the first priority. I dropped numerous hints about not being comfortable getting back with Maitri (without revealing my orientation) during counseling sessions, psychiatry consultations, meetings with family and friends when my family sought our reconciliation as a couple. I returned home to give Maitri the moral support that she then required, as I was told she was depressed and likely to inflict harm on herself. There was no love whatsoever and there will never be. All through this, there is terrible guilt and shame that I have jeopardized her life and mental health.

Many times I  thought of opening up about this sensitive issue but always stopped out of fear of being ostracized. I didn’t want to lose my parents, my brother and the few close relatives and friends who genuinely cared for me. My biggest mistake was that I chose to hide the truth and lead a supposedly normal life, just because I was not brave enough to confront my inner demons.

I have never had a good relationship with Maitri. I did not respect her dreams of wanting to be a mother. I was fearful of bringing a child into a family situation such as ours, as I did not want another new life to become the next casualty. Maitri, you were wonderfully patient and tolerant while I went about my domestic routines mechanically. I often wished you realized you deserved better, took legal action or nullified this broken relationship much earlier…but you chose to stay on for reasons best known to you.

Yes Maitri, I was cheating on you: meeting random people through social networks and roaming about like a nomad. Not all those dalliances were just for physical gratification: I was also seeking moments of mental peace where I could find it, as the atmosphere at home was depressing. I felt helpless, caught in a self-woven web of infidelity and deceit, including self-deceit. I felt unable to express myself and seek appropriate liberation, as I feared I would be misunderstood and rejected.

I know this news comes as a big blow to people who have always stood up for me and supported me in good and bad times. My relationship with my brother has strained so much over the last couple of months. He and my parents never liked my attitude towards my wife, and I lacked the courage even then to admit that I was gay. I didn’t want to continue living with my legally wedded spouse purely for a formality. Whenever I articulated these thoughts, it created more unpleasantness among my parents and brother.

There was also my fear of losing my professional standing and facing societal rejection. These are normal but important fears that any gay/queer person would have, considering the rigidities of our society.

There are certain things I want to be very vocal about:

1. My parents did not ever know what was running through my mind. I seriously wish people don’t talk ill of them, as it is I who let them down, and this is no fault of theirs.

2. I do not wish to continue my married life and Maitri does not wish to grant me a divorce through mutual consent as she has been wronged greatly. I accept that. She will be supported by my father as he strongly feels I have been indifferent to her.  Maitri, I would like you to know now that my ignoring you had nothing to do with your qualifications, looks, tolerance, or earnings. I take the blame for messing up your life.

3. If my parents feel I have no more place in the home I share with them, I will move out and stay separately without being a nuisance to anyone back at home or to anyone in our close circle of family and friends. I would, however, need some time, may be a couple of months, to make suitable arrangements.

4. If my relatives and friends choose to stay away from me and cut off all communication, that is their choice. I know it is very difficult for people to digest this.  I will patiently wait for people who can accept me as I am.

5. I am not here for your sympathies or for advice that tries to convince me to continue my current existence. I just want to live my life with some mental peace and dignity, whatever little may be left of both. I am prepared to fight alone. I know the path ahead is going to be rocky. I am not contemplating suicide, as I want to live and breathe on my own, given a second chance.

6. And the last word to my parents and my brother/relatives and friends: please don’t hate me. Allow me the option to repent for my mistakes and try to restore the chance at happiness for two lives without worrying about family honour and stuff like that. I have already fallen in the eyes of everybody and I don’t want to lose my near and dear ones at any cost.

7. I never intended to hurt anyone voluntarily, but my conscience, fighting a bitter battle with me daily, made me realize that I had better come out in the open before the situation escalates. I feel disgusted with what I have done, but I guess, after years of introspection, I now have a clearer view and have chosen to come out and come clean, whether I am accepted or not.

From,

Purush*

* Names have been changed on request.
** This letter is part of the South Asian, Married, and Queer? resources collection. Read about this initiative in English and Tamil.