Dear Diary, I want to tell you about February 2022.

Four years ago this month, I closed the door on my old life and locked it.

The anniversary of coming out to my parents and deciding they didn’t belong in my life anymore. Woof.

Let me back up a little bit…

My coming out actually began in 2018 and was gradual from there. I didn’t start dating women until the end of 2019 and slowly started to tell more people in my life. But I hadn’t thought too much about coming out to my family, because I had compartmentalized my life a little too well, so why would I tell them unless I had to?

If you know me or have been following along with my stories the last year, you would know that I grew up Muslim, and that my parents were strict and very devout. They didn’t even accept my very respectful boyfriend when I was in college because he wasn’t Muslim, so their daughter being gay is probably the worst thing that could have happened to them. No wonder why I got so good at compartmentalizing my life.

If anyone asked me when I thought I would come out to my parents, usually my answer would be, “I’m not sure, I guess when I start dating someone.” Again, I hadn’t really put much thought to it.

But then, one night before we met our friends out somewhere, my friend Taylor and I were talking about family, and she asked me the same question I’d heard many times before so I gave her my usual answer. She said, “Hear me out…but if I were dating someone and her relationship with her parents ended because she came out to them for me, that would be really hard. And that’s a lot of pressure to put on any new relationship, but especially your first queer one.”

I was speechless for a few moments. And then I said, “oh my god. I have to tell them.”

We finally left and met our friends, but I was distracted the whole night thinking about this. The next morning I woke up with this overwhelming realization that this is what had been holding me back. (Unsurprisingly, I had had a huge wall up when trying to date.) I needed to do this ASAP.

In the next session with my therapist, I told her about my new goal. And I wanted to set an aggressive timeline for myself so that I wouldn’t chicken out. This was the end of December 2021, and I decided to workshop what I would say and how I would say it within a month. Since my parents live in California, this had to be a phone call, which I was grateful for, as it gave me more control of how much access they would have to me. I set a date for myself in early February.

The morning of, I texted my mom asking her to talk because I needed to tell her and my dad something. I called them and they put me on speaker phone. Their energy was off, so I knew that they knew that I was about to drop something they wouldn’t be happy to hear. I read from a little script I wrote for myself which was short and straight to the point. I began with a few sentences of boundary setting, ending with the news itself:

I want to tell you this because I love you, but what I’m about to say is something that will probably be difficult to hear. I’d really like you to fully listen until I’m finished before you react, and I actually would prefer that you took a few days to process this before we talk about it. If I’m interrupted or voices are raised as an immediate reaction then I will hang up and I won’t talk about this again until an agreement can be made where I’m heard and understood in the right way. Ok?

I’m gay. Which has taken me years to finally come to terms with. I’ve never felt happier or more myself and it’s something I’m really proud of. I hope you can find some way to accept that. I know this is probably a lot to process, so I’d like to give you time to sit with it. However, I do need to add that there’s nothing you can say or do that will make me think otherwise about myself or to change this because there’s nothing to change. You can reach out in a day or two once you’ve had some time to think about this.

After saying my little spiel — they were silent at the “Ok?” part, so I just continued on — my dad finally spoke up, and quietly asked, “What did you say you are?”

As nervous as I was minutes prior, I managed to smile almost giddily at this moment.

I repeated myself clearly, without a stutter: I. Am. Gay.

This is my favorite part of this story. I remember how happy I was that he had to ask me this. How proud I was to say it again. How much it affirmed for me that this is who I am.

My dad said nothing and I could hear my mom softly crying in the background. After a few more moments, I told them I was going to hang up and then I did. The phone call lasted all of 3 minutes.

–

The days went by and I didn’t see a text or a call from them. The thing is, I knew that they wouldn’t accept me or come around to it. The part I added in about hoping they would find a way to accept me was an empty hope, thrown in just because. But what I didn’t expect was silence. I was sure they would ignore what I’d said and still try to change me. Then one day, one month later, I checked my mail and saw that I had an envelope addressed to me from my mom. My heart sank.

What I did with it was important to me. It sat on my counter and I didn’t open it. Finally, I texted Taylor and asked her if I could come over the next day so she could read it for me. If my parents weren’t going to respect my wishes, then I would at least protect my own heart from words I didn’t need to see. The saint Taylor is, she of course agreed.

When we sat down, I told her that she could give me bits if she felt like it would be necessary for me to hear for some reason, but anything with religious backing I didn’t care to know about, because I heard it all before and it was hurtful. It was 3 or 4 pages, typed. I watched Taylor’s face as she read, and I could already tell how disappointing it was. Unsurprisingly, she said most of it I didn’t need to hear. Four years later, and I honestly don’t remember anything she did read out loud from it. I thanked her for being the buffer and doing that for me.

I sent a very short response back to them:

As I mentioned in our call, there isn’t anything that can be said to change me. I refuse to argue with you or continually try to convince you otherwise. Until there can be acceptance of me at my word without a lecture then I won’t be calling you or answering your calls.

This is what I had prepared for and where I felt my power.

I gave myself freedom.

—

When people find out that my parents aren’t in my life, it’s usually met with “I’m sorry to hear that, maybe they’ll come around!” or something similar. And I understand the sentiment, because it is, in fact, a bummer that my parents suck.

But I’m actually not sorry about it. And no, they won’t be coming around.

They’re not in my life because I disowned them for not being the family that I deserve. Being disappointed by my parents was a common theme throughout my life, so my coming out was their last chance, and they blew it. They don’t get to be in the life that I made for myself that’s even more beautiful than the one they wanted for me.

Letting my parents go left so much more room for love in my world. The family I have now show up in ways for each other that my parents never did for me.

We sit on each others’ couches and cry and process when things are hard. We laugh so deeply that it’s silent, and then forget why we were laughing in the first place, which makes us laugh even more. We cook for each other when we’re too sick or too sad to feed ourselves. We dance until the sun comes up and then text in the morning to make sure everyone is feeling okay. We apologize when we’ve hurt each others’ feelings, because that inevitably will happen. We get each other little gifts, just because we want to. We offer our couches or guest beds when we go through breakups, without expecting anything in return. We love in a way that love is supposed to be experienced.

This is my family.

🖊️ A.