Letting In
A proposed language shift for National Coming Out Day
My son came out to me a while back.
Except he didn’t, really. He walked up to me, said he was queer, and immediately made it clear he was moving on. No speech. No ceremony. No parental Hallmark moment. Just: I’m queer. Okay. Next. What’s for dinner tonight?
I tried anyway. I love you, I’m so proud, I support you completely, the whole thing. And he stopped me. He said, “quite frankly, it’s none of your fucking business. I’m choosing to tell you.”
And I stood there thinking: yeah. Holy shit. This kid just taught me something.
He wasn’t coming out. He was letting me in. And those are not the same thing.
You are not a secret that finally got told. You are a whole person, fully formed, choosing who gets the privilege of knowing you.
“Coming out” has been the language of our community for decades, and I understand why. It took courage to name it. It took courage to say it out loud, to anyone, in a world that has never made it easy or safe to be queer. That courage is real and it matters and I will never diminish it.
But the metaphor has always bothered me. The closet. The hiding. The emerging. Because it frames our identity as something we were concealing, something shameful we finally stopped covering up. And that’s not what was happening. That was never what was happening.
We weren’t hiding. We were protecting ourselves. We were waiting for safety. We were deciding, consciously or not, who deserved access to who we really are. That is not shame. That is survival. That is wisdom. That is agency.
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My son knew that instinctively. He wasn’t revealing a secret. He was extending an invitation. On his terms. In his time. To someone he decided was worth letting in.
He wasn’t coming out. He was letting me in. And those are not the same thing.
I want to be careful here, because I know this isn’t simple.
I’ve met young people recently who have chosen not to let their parents in. Not because they’re ashamed. Because they’d lose their housing. Lose their tuition. Be cut off from family. Be placed in genuine danger. I know people who have chosen not to tell people at work for fear of silent, or not so silent, discrimination, despite company policy meant to prevent that. Ageism, anyone?
Those people are not hiding. They are being smart. They are choosing safety in a world that has not yet made it safe to be fully seen.
Their identity is nobody’s business unless they decide to make it someone’s business. Full stop.
That’s the thing about “letting in.” It keeps the power where it belongs. With you. You decide who gets access. You decide when. You decide how much. Nobody comes out on someone else’s timeline. Nobody owes anyone a revelation. You are not a secret that finally got told. You are a whole person, fully formed, choosing who gets the privilege of knowing you.
We weren’t hiding. We were protecting ourselves. We were waiting for safety.
So this National Coming Out Day, I’m not asking anyone to come out.
I’m just asking us to consider the language. Even if only internally. Even if only in how we talk to ourselves about ourselves.
You were never hiding. You were always here.
And if you’re ready, and if it’s safe, and if you choose to?
Welcome someone into your world.
It’s a pretty great world.
