Part 2: Showing myself

To read PART 1: BEING SEEN, click here

When I recounted those two scenarios to a friend, who is straight, she was in equal parts astonished and appalled. “In circumstances with which I am familiar,” she said, “the mention of a spouse or partner would divert the conversation to a bit of social chit chat about that person, possibly the relationship, their work, potentially children — and then the main conversational track would be resumed.” Of course. This is what is understood to be normal, but that didn’t happen in these cases with me. Nor does it happen often. And I’m mostly fine with that. (But why doesn’t it happen? Now that’s an interesting question to ponder…) 

I came into (out to) my sexuality in early adulthood and now, in my mid-to-older adulthood, I am confident within myself about who I am. Outside of myself, I have come to be skilled at avoiding personal pronouns in conversations until I trust the person and feel they’re safe. Maybe I am the only person I am fooling when I withhold this information, for I don’t actually know what they understand of me from what they see on the outside. 

And, in fact, it’s not about fooling anyone; it’s about withholding information that I deem not vital to the immediate exchange and that might distract from the issue — or my safety — in the moment: 

• Way back in the mid-80s, our new landlord knew exactly that we were a couple applying to live in the flat above his own home, but he said nothing, and we disclosed nothing until well into the first year of living there. He had known all along, he told us, but allowed us our privacy until we were ready to be open. This was decades before same-sex marriage was legal and years before LGBTQ people had rights enshrined in the law. 
• My partner has had many surgeries, for a variety of reasons, and no healthcare provider has ever limited my access to her or to information about her status; they have always known who I am to her — it’s evident from how we interact with each other.

Someone else knowing is vastly different from me saying it out loud, from putting it on the table myself. And, I think for me that’s the point. No need to say anything when I’m with my partner, but when I’m on my own, I make the choice about when and how to disclose the information. Our sexuality and, thus, our identity is ours, only ours. We share it when, if and as we choose. Others respond as they will. That’s out of my control. Feeling safe? Feeling ok? That’s something I want to control, as much as I can, myself. Even if that sense of control is more visceral than actual. 

And, so: I’ll use the all-revealing pronoun judiciously when I deem it safe. Often, it will be a non-issue, causing not even a ripple. But when it does cause a ripple in the conversation, I’ll rely on the ability of those across the desk from me to gather themselves up, get it together, and carry on with our conversation. If they have their own work to do on this matter, I’ll leave it to them to do it in their own time. For the moment, I’ll have been in control of the work I have to do (on) myself.