My Coming Out Story

 Hello everyone,

  I have always wanted to start a blog to write about my feelings and my daily life experience but I have never had the courage to do so because  I was afraid of being laughed at or what if I am not good enough, or what if I have too much feelings and people don't have time for feelings? and the questions run on and on in my head for the past years. And I think today is the day I can finally have the courage to do so. I can not find any other better days to make this story public than today. Not only today marks the history of  our country being united as one but also this gives me hopes that one day, ONE DAY, I can find my other soul-mate and can proudly call him my husband. ( omg that sounds weird lol ). For the longest time, I have always been embarrassed of my sexuality. I thought I was less of a guy than other straight males out there. I am shy, I'm timid, but that doesn't mean that I am weak or less of a human being than anyone else. May be because I grew up insecure , may be because I grew up having people constantly putting me down and throwing words like : fag, go away, no-one likes you and perhaps throwing orange peels at me . I'm not upset at my past or angry at those people who have put me down or did not believe in me. I however want to thank them for their actions, because they have toughen this little gay boy for the past 2 decades. My tears from being hurt , being bullied and not believing in myself have turned into tears of being proud of who i am, tears of joy, of success, wisdom, determination , of the person who got up from the ground full of hatred dirt. 

My coming out story starts now.

There is a story about a little boy from Viet Nam. The story does not have a great beginning or a happy ending but along the line, the little boy learned to love himself and cherished every joyful moment that he has created. That little boy was me. Unlike a few other kids, I grew up in an extremely traditional Vietnamese household where I was taught to be disciplined at a very young age. I grew up without a father so my mother plays both of the roles .I guess one of the reasons why my mother was always so strict on me because she was bitter about the fact that my dad left us when I was still a baby and she had to take care of me all by herself. I still don’t understand why when adults make mistakes, the children get the blame for it.  I mean it is not my fault that I remind mother of my father sometimes whether if it’s the way I talk or the way I act even though I have never met him before. Mother would shout it out on top of her lungs: “You remind me so much of your Dad.” And she would run into her room and cry silently.  Every day she would remind me to always be faithful and loyal to my future wife because she doesn’t want me to be like my father. The funny thing is I would never be faithful to my wife because I would not have a wife in the first place. I am gay.

                My coming out story was quite embarrassing. I was a junior in high school at the time. One afternoon, I came home from school and instead of doing homework, I got distracted and started to google “naked guys”. I was always curious about the naked male body but I did not know the real reason why. As I was browsing through images after images, suddenly mother walked in. I tried to close down the window but it just had to freeze up at that time. Mother asked: “why are there naked guys on your computer?” I could not breathe for a minute and I answered in shame: “ I was just curious and I promise you to never look at them again.” I was embarrassed, confused, ashamed, angry and many other mix emotions rolling in one giant ball. A few months later, mother suddenly walked in to check up on me once again and history repeated itself. She caught me watching gay porn. However, this time was different. I did not apologize for my action. Instead, I sat mother down and whispered shyly: “Mommy I think I like guys.” Mother paused for a second, she stood up, slapped me across my face, ran out in tears.  There was this pain that I felt inside me. It literally hurt and I didn’t know why. Tears started to run down my cheeks. I did not cry because mother slapped me. I cried because I felt hopeless. I cried because I felt alone. I cried because I thought I was a monster or some kind of devil that did something so horrible to my mom.

                Mother kicked me out of the house after that because she could not deal with the fact that I was gay. A week later, I came back starved, exhausted and begged to go back into the house.  To my family, being gay is more than just being sinful. Let alone being a traditional household, we are also Catholic. My uncle and my mother believed that there was a devil inside me and it was trying to take over. They forced me to pray to God to become better, they brought me to therapy sessions, and they tried everything to turn me straight. I followed every step that they had set for me. I did really try to change so that my family could be happy. I tried so hard to the point where I started to become extremely angry at myself. I would torture myself physically and mentally. I hated myself for the longest time because I could not fulfill my mother’s wish which was to become the man of the family and to get married.

                I cried myself to sleep every night hoping that I would go to sleep forever so that tomorrow wouldn’t be so scary facing my family. Two years passed by living in depression and endless unexplainable night terrors. I finally was set free when I got the acceptance letter from UCSD. Before I left home, I had a talk with mother. It wasn’t really a talk, it was a conversation where I did most of the talking and whether if she listened or not I was still not coming back. Trying to stop myself from crying, I expressed: “Mother, I love you with all my heart. I know you have sacrificed your whole life for me. Not only you are a great mother, but you are also an exceptional father. I would never do anything to hurt you. However, you cannot continue living a lie. I am gay and whether if you are going to support me I will never change. Would you rather have a straight son that would smoke and drink and come home drunk every night stealing your money damaging the house? Or would you want a gay son that is determined to be successful and will love you and support you for the rest of your life. Mother, my sexuality does not determine my success. Whom I love does not and will not replace you ever. Last but not least, even if I was straight I would not have my own kids. The reason is because there are so many children out there dying every day due to poverty and starvation. Their parents cannot support them and give them a memorable childhood. Therefore, I am going to adopt. One or ten, that will be determined later when you see me in the pages of Vogue.

                I was afraid that she would slap me like last time so after I finished the last sentence I ran out of the house, rapidly jumped in my car, drove eight hours to San Diego and never looked back.

                Two days later, mother called and said: “I love you and I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you. From now on, no more tears. Let’s start being fabulous together.”

              I cried in happiness. 

Thank you for reading and please come again! 

  Mother and older sister at her graduation.