I decided to come out to my family right before making the big move to college. Although I was going slightly crazy about being on my own for the first time in my life, getting real about my sexuality felt necessary — sort of like the last item left on a To-Do List. Plus, I had been holding in this secret for way too long.

I knew I was gay as a young girl, but felt scared to tell anyone because I thought my family’s dream of seeing me date a man, get married, and have kids would be shattered. I grew up looking at photo albums of my mother on her wedding day as she prepared to marry my dad—a man and a woman—exactly what you needed to build The American Family, or so I thought. Not to mention the fact that my parents grew up in religious households where they were told, not asked, what to do in life: go to college, get a job, tie the knot, and build a family. I felt like I was a failure, and no one wants to let their parents down, including me.
As I started with the first person on my List—mom—you can imagine how anxious I was. My friend and I were playing pool and listening to Whitney Houston when I picked up the phone and dialed. She quickly turned the music down and sat next to me as my mom answered, saying, “You’re calling me. How did I get this lucky?” I wanted to laugh, but stayed focused.

“I have something to tell you. I, um, I’m sort of a lesbian,” I blurted out like a contestant on Jeopardy with only one second left to give the game winning answer.

“Oh. Well, Lauren, we all go through phases. Look at Anne Heche,” she exclaimed as if this statement was general information known by everyone, like Obama being the first African-American President, or the fact that cows produce milk.

“I’m not her. I’m Lauren,” I said, thinking this would make things better. However, I was was wrong. The rest of the conversation focused on how I wasn’t a lesbian; the issue was that I hadn’t found the right guy yet. “I have to go,” came roaring out of my mouth as well as an abrupt click. Yes, I hung up on my mother. There were other peeps to reach.

My dad and stepmother were at home chilling over Anderson Cooper and red wine when I called. “Hey, are you guys busy? I have something to tell you,” I said, hoping this conversation would go smoother than the last.

“No, we’re here. Shoot,” my dad replied without hesitation. As I mustered up the courage to say what was on my mind, I could hear my stepmother get on the other line. There was no turning back now.

“I’m gay,” I said. O-M-G. What will they do? Will I be scorned forever, or told that I was simply going through a phase like my mom suggested? My friend grabbed my hand as I waited for their response.

“Yeah, we know that already,” revealed my stepmom who didn’t seem the least bit surprised. I was speechless and wondered how they knew I was a lesbian? Perhaps it was my obsession with Jodie Foster or the film, Bound, that gave it away. I quickly mumbled a few words about needing to get off the phone and hung up (that makes two for two). I was shocked by their lack of surprise, but relieved that they accepted me.

There are many individuals out there like me—you may be one of them—who feel reluctant about coming out to your family or friends because of all the horrible, traumatic stories you’ve heard; a kid thrown out on the streets, or told they were no longer a member of the family. Sure, these are realistic situations that happen often, but there are also stories that go well and don’t change a friend or family member’s love for you—where you feel acceptance that is unwavering regardless of your sexual orientation. And you get the chance to see that no one thinks you’re a failure. In fact, it’s just the opposite.
Looking back I am glad that I came out to my family when I did. Sure, I could have been more eloquent or softer with my approach, but the important thing is that I did it, and felt liberated.

It was awesome being able to put a check in that box.

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