Edgard Hernandez San Martin • Creative Non-Fiction
Fear is one of the basic human emotions designed as a survival instinct, yet it also has the power to starve us from happiness and prosperity. Facing your fears is easier said than done; it can truly set you free or even go as far as to lead you to a happier life. Throughout my early teenage years, I dealt with an identity crisis and simply feeling like I was made incorrectly. It took me a couple years, but by the age of fifteen I finally came to accept the part of me I always buried deep inside. I am gay. I always was, and I always will be. Accepting who I am was extremely liberating. It appears I could finally live life and stop being afraid of what others thought. My self-expression and identity began flourishing and gave me a sense of confidence I couldn’t muster before. Still, there were two chains holding me prisoner, keeping me from fully being the truest version of myself. These chains were my parents, the only two important people that I hadn’t told I was gay. It took me two years, but by seventeen I decided to finally tell them the truth. That day was a pivotal point in my life that changed everything forever, and it feels like it was just yesterday.
I woke up and left the house, feeling the crisp winter air hit my face. The sun was out, but it was still so cold. I was on my way to school; the whole morning was just another typical day of high school. But that was interrupted when my friend started advising me that coming out to my parents today would be a great idea. As soon as I heard those words my body entered a state of panic. How could I be openly gay to my Latino parents who were always so conservative? Even the thought of coming out to them gave me anxiety. Yet, I kept listening to my friend’s reasoning. Her points were all valid and made sense. “We’re heading to a school trip out of town the next day,” she said as she reassured me. I wouldn’t see my parents for a couple days after coming out to them. At that time, I really did think it was a good idea, but today I think it was an amazing idea. After school I drove home and acted as if nothing was going on. I ignored the fact that coming out that day would be a great opportunity and sang my heart out on the way home. Simply ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away, so by the time I kissed my mom to say hello, I already felt knots twisting in my stomach. I hated the guilt, the anger, the sorrow, everything. I hated that I had to hide who I was simply because I walked into my house. That’s when I decided that it was time to finally put an end to it. I started feeling courageous and cheered myself on as I walked towards my mother. I was ready to admit my truth to her.
Sadly, that didn’t go as planned. Well cluck, cluck, because I chickened out and made a turn at the hall towards the bathroom instead. I looked in the mirror and teared up. Holding those tears back took all of me, I was mortified. Why, why was I so scared of my parents? Then I remembered all the hurtful comments they would say about the LGBTQ+ community. They were blind to the truth, but I couldn’t say anything at risk of outing myself. I always let their words pierce me without putting up a fight.
Screw that, I was tired of allowing them to use the word “maricón.” I picked myself up, washed my face and started planning how I was going to come out to my parents.
I couldn’t muster enough courage to come out twice, so I had to kill two birds with one stone. I thought long and hard about how I should arrange my wording. Should I tell them nothing will change? But what if that’s a lie? So many questions and concerns made me feel like my head was going to burst open and blood splatter all around. I spent the rest of the evening rerunning scenarios in my head about what to say and what would be the equal and opposite reaction. Being stuck in my mind made time fly, and suddenly it was already nine. The day only had three more hours and I hadn’t accomplished the one thing that was making me lose my sense of reasoning. I decided it was about time. So, one slap to the face in the bathroom mirror, and I was off to my parents’ room.
“Soy gay,” opened the flood gates and had me sobbing instantly. I tried to explain myself and express how hard it was to speak. But I kept muttering. I took a deep breath and let my parents know that I simply just wished to be honest to them about who I am and how I identify. They sat silent on their bed. Pins and needles started stabbing my stomach. My anxiety was making me physically ill, and if they didn’t say anything my flight instinct was about to kick in. Those five seconds of silence felt like hours but ended as soon as my mom said “Okay”. She went silent a bit more, but proceeded to explain that she didn’t care. Gay, straight, bisexual, pansexual, anything wouldn’t change the fact she gave birth to me and loved me. I felt my body feel lighter, sort of floating, things weren’t going in all the negative ways I played out. I turned and looked at my dad, trying to figure out his silhouette with a vision blurred by tears. Nothing, not one word, not one sound. Nobody dare say anything, and I started falling back down to Earth, crashing down into reality. “Goodnight”, and he turned covering himself. I was torn apart; it took me a bit to pick up all my pieces and leave. I said goodnight and told my parents how much I loved them as I closed the door behind me.
I couldn’t stop crying. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get my dad’s cold words out of my head. I decided to text my only two gay friends and let them know what had just happened. We decided to FaceTime, and they congratulated me and let me know that things were looking much brighter now that I was truly myself. The comfort in our conversation made me forget what had just happened and they made me feel safe. Even though my father’s reaction was heartbreaking, I felt such a sense of relief. Without nothing stopping me, I began to ask my friends more about being gay. There are so many terms and slang for the gay community, it’s so funny to me. It gives me the same satisfaction that talking Spanish does, being able to communicate with your people. I asked them about so many things such as what top and bottoms were and if vers was truly a thing. We talked about douching, twinks, and poppers. Who’s a bear and whose an otter. So many terms that are specific to my own community. I most certainly will not explain those terms, but curiosity did kill the cat and the internet is free. Anyways, I didn’t feel abnormal saying “serving cunt”, “girl”, “bitch”, or any of the stereotypical words that just feel so fun to say. We ended up talking the rest of the night, and I was happy to end the day feeling accomplished instead of defeated.
The next morning, I woke up in a rush to get to school on time for the bus since I overslept. I made it and fell asleep twenty minutes into the bus ride to Farmington since I had only slept three hours. I was off on my school trip leaving everything behind. What a bittersweet feeling it was to drive off towards the sunrise knowing I had to come back to face reality. But that didn’t change the fact of how happy I was with myself. Sadly, not everyone in our community does get the chance to come out, some are too scared to lose everyone and everything. They let their fears govern their happiness, and through experience, that is such a terrible life. No matter what my father thought of me, I was able to be me with nothing holding me back, and that is true liberation.
Leonardo Magazine 