Uncensored: I don’t owe you my coming out
The pressure to continuously come out in various personal and professional settings creates an ongoing emotional strain
I grew up in a small, conservative Catholic town in northern Mexico, and from a very young age, I knew I was queer.
This set me on a complicated journey of coming out in small steps, only to retreat back into the safety of silence each time I felt the weight of judgment or fear. Navigating this duality became an ongoing struggle, as I tried to reconcile who I was with the expectations of those around me.
Ever since, I have encountered instances where men approach me under the pretense of friendship, only to reveal ulterior motives. Once they learn that I’m queer and uninterested in men, they feel deceived. This reaction underscores a troubling pattern: queerness is framed as a form of dishonesty or betrayal. By demanding that queer people disclose their sexuality upfront, these individuals shift the blame for their own assumptions or predatory behaviours onto us. This dynamic places a burden on queer individuals to constantly justify their identities, as though we owe others an explanation.
A 2017 Duquesne University study has shown that even after coming out and embracing their sexual identity, many individuals experience periods of uncertainty, leading to trust issues within themselves and those around them. It implies that “coming out” is far from being a one-time experience. It is a process that is forced upon individuals over and over again, one that straight people don’t have to go through.
QTPOC individuals face unique cultural stigmas or heightened scrutiny from within their communities. Moreover, systemic inequalities, such as lack of access to affirming healthcare, legal protections or economic resources, can make coming out feel like an even greater gamble. There is a potential for devastating consequences to their mental health, safety and livelihood. These fears often lead to silence or cycles of coming out and retreating, as we weigh the risks of authenticity against the potential loss of connection and security.
Ultimately, the choice to come out—or not—belongs solely to the individual.
People should have the freedom to share or withhold this part of their identity as they see fit. For me, the act of coming out has become less about announcing my identity to others and more about claiming space for myself in environments where I feel safe. When I feel secure, I’ll share my truth freely, because safety hasn’t always been guaranteed—for me or for countless other folks.
From a young age, I knew I was queer, but it wasn’t until I was about 13 years old that I fully came to terms with that part of my identity. Still, I kept this knowledge to myself. Growing up, I had seen how other girls who came out—whether willingly or under pressure—were harassed and sexualized. From my young perspective, queerness was something others could use against you, so I decided to stay silent for my own safety.
When I started university and moved away from home, I was finally able to explore my sexuality without the fear of immediate judgment or surveillance. The experience was liberating and confusing at the same time. I realized that the label “bisexual” no longer felt right for me, but the anxiety of finding the “correct” label lingered. I feared the awkwardness of having to re-come out to others, as if this confusion of mine imposed a burden on them or made me seem inconsistent.
Coming out isn’t about fulfilling other people’s expectations—it’s about protecting ourselves. Not coming out doesn’t mean denying who one is; it’s about prioritizing one’s safety in a context that’s not always welcoming. The emotional toll of repeatedly disclosing my identity, often without regard for my comfort or safety, underscores the weight we carry. For many of us, especially those at the intersection of multiple marginalized identities, this battle is even more intense.
The demand to come out is not a one-time event—it’s an ongoing negotiation for space, security, and the right to define ourselves without the burden of others’ assumptions or demands.
This article originally appeared in Volume 45, Issue 8, published January 28, 2025.
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