By: Kay Siebler

I was six years old when the Stonewall Riots, the event that kicked off the Queer Rights Movement in the U.S., began. I had no awareness of the event, but Stonewall affected our culture in profound ways; it allowed me to grow up in a time that was beginning to accept various expressions of sexuality and gender. I didn’t come out as queer (I like the umbrella term of queer) until I was in my late 20s, but by then (the 1980s), there were queer communities everywhere I lived. Coming out — publicly stating one is not heterosexual — is a political act. As a teacher, I always announce within the first week of class that I am not heterosexual. I want students to know that there are adults in their world who are healthy, happy, educated and “normal” who are queer. I have seen the effects of queer people who live in the darkness of a closet. They suffer from depression, anxiety and loneliness. No one can be a happy, fulfilled and complete human if they are trying to hide whom they are. It is exhausting and unhealthy; it kills one’s psyche and ability to love oneself. 

Coming out is not a single act or announcement. Anyone who identifies as queer will come out thousands of times in their life. Every time they meet a new friend, every time a new family member is introduced through marriage or birth, every time they enter a new community or job, they have to come out again … and again … and again. It can be exhausting. But it is essential. The more people who announce they aren’t heterosexual, the more the dominant culture has to adapt and accommodate to queer identities. The dominant culture and the compulsory heterosexuality of the dominant culture can change and has changed. But our work is not done. And so we must come out, and we must work to make sure others feel safe and loved being whom they are, loving whom they choose. 

We come out to honor those who have experienced violence and died because of homophobic attacks: Stonewall, Matt Shepard, Brandon Teena and the Pulse Nightclub. We come out so our families and friends can love us as we are, to give our friends and family a chance to grow and change. We come out so we can be fully engaged with people instead of hiding whom we are. We come out to offer a community to others. We come out to change laws. We come out to change the world. We are here. We are queer. We are strong. We stand together. Out and proud. 

Describe what your sexuality means to you.

Richardson: Personally, it means I get to love who I want to love. It’s a freedom thing. I can love literally anyone I want to.
Nierman: Comfort. It’s one of the only things in my life that I’m sure of, which is nice. You don’t know where your future is going after college; you don’t know if you’re always going to keep your friends. But damned if I don’t know who I love.

When did you first realize that you might be gay?

Richardson: In the beginning of high school.
Nierman: Yep. Same.
Richardson: But I didn’t actually experiment until college. I definitely saw it in myself, and I saw that I had interest in other guys starting through high school.
Nierman: Same. Literally same. Sophomore year.

What did the realization of your sexuality feel like?
Nierman: Comfortable.
Richardson: Yeah.
Nierman: You’re suddenly like, “oh! This makes sense.”
Richardson: An eye-opening experience. You’re like, “oh!,”
then you’re like, “now what?”
Nierman: For me, it was like, “so this is why I didn’t really
want to kiss my boyfriend when I had one.”

What was your experience like when telling your family
and friends? Do they know? 
Nierman: I came out to my extended family this year in a really stupid way, and it turned out great. We were playing the board game Life, and we got to the point where you had to pick a significant other, and I picked a girl. I just popped a girl in my car, sat it down, leaned back and waited.
Richardson: I put no rush on it, because I am not a
confrontation kind of person. I had the mindset of “they can
hate it or they can like it and I won’t care.” It is what it is, and
that’s that. They’ll find out when I start dating someone.
Nierman: That’s what I was gonna do! I was gonna wait until
they found out.
Richardson: At one point, I told my grandma, “I’m bringing
someone home this weekend.” And she said, “oh, is she cute?” And I just said, “I don’t know. You’ll find out.” I walked in the door with a boy, and she was like, “Hi! My name is Shirley! How are you?” Later, I asked her if she picked up on the fact that he was more than a friend, and she said, “well,
yeah. I’m not stupid.”
Nierman: What if instead of a baby gender reveal, you do a
significant other gender reveal for your family?

What’s something you love about your sexual identity or
the most positive experience you’ve had since coming out.

Nierman: I love the family. So if you identify as any part
of queer, queer people tend to stick together. We create
families and friendships because a lot of queer people don’t
have families who support them, and so we become a support
network for each other.

If you could talk to your younger, closeted self, what
would you say?
Richardson: Just come out. It’s all positivity surrounding you
and there is nothing to be afraid of. Also, men are trash. Don’t
get your hopes up.
Nierman: Research more. Get more friends in the queer
community, and find people who are accepting of you.
What’s your advice to anyone who is currently struggling
with their sexual identity or exploring their sexual
orientation?
Richardson: To someone who is thinking about wanting
to come out and is afraid, just know that you have so much
positivity around you. The positivity is going to outweigh the
negative, by far.
Nierman: You can choose your family. If you have someone
who gives up on you or leaves your life, it was meant to be.
They are not your friend, and they should accept you for who
you are. Go find some better friends that will like you for
exactly who you are and who will like that you love who you
love. If your family isn’t accepting, make a new one. Make
your friends your family.