It’s midterm and flu season and 50 degrees in NYC  and lucky me I was one of those with the flu and hectic schedule. Apologies again for the delayed posts mes cheries.

On the Wednesday of October 12, I attended my first Coming Out day at Queens College. Upon entering the dining hall, and motioning my way towards the back room, I looked towards the stage to see a large rainbow flag  tacked to the stage wall, and a podium dawned in the pride flag, found a seat and sat there and listened to my peers and professors.  I sat there and listened. Listened to stories of those coming out, those not coming out, being a straight lgbt supporter, being a Captain Jack Harkness omnisexual [as a Doctor Who fan that made smile], being a girl who loves girls, being bisexual, being pansexual, being queer, and just about every spectrum of the rainbow.  Some stories made me laugh and  some even made me tear a bit. Some wrote poems, some told a story. For that one hour and a half I was captivated and touched by every one of them.

Since I didn’t have anything prepared and didn’t feel I had much to say, as I never came out to my parents or experienced anything negative, initially I wasn’t going to speak at Coming Out Day but ended up feeling compelled to  do so last minute on a whim. Although my speech was all over the place,  it felt great being up there, sharing about myself and meeting the many voices  that I had heard that day.

One particular voice and speech that caught my attention and even caused me to shed a tear was that of  Noam Parness who spoke about the hardships of being queer in the Orthodox Jewish Community. I asked if I could share his speech with you  all and I hope you are all inspired as much as I was.

 

You see this on my head? This is my “kippah,” or yarmulke––a signifier within the Jewish religion of faith, and of community. I remember buying this when I was studying in Israel for the year, and I thought it was fairly adorable–who wouldn’t want a cute kippah with a biblical scene from the story of noah’s ark, right? So I bought it, and wore it on my walk back to school. When I walked in and greeted my friends, I decided to point out my new article of clothing, my beautiful new kippah. My friends smiled and laughed, thinking it was very cute. But they were also laughing because the scene from noah’s ark that was depicted, had a rainbow. “I didn’t know they made pride kippahs”, my friend exclaimed, with a slight chuckle not quite hidden beneath his words. Sure, I laughed. I was a closeted eighteen year old Orthodox Jewish boy, living in an all boys seminary, where anything remotely gay was seen as funny, and occasionally as derogatory. Sure I laughed. Did it pain me so much at the time? Not really, I just let the comment slide off my shoulder, hiding beneath the guise provided by my heternormative surroundings.

But now. NOW I realize how much pain that comment caused me. How much internal struggle it caused, how many nights crying to a God that never responded, how many times I screamed into my pillow hoping for some kind of transformation, if not of myself, than of society at large. I didn’t have this family we call GLASA then. If I did, things would have been different. If I had grown up seeing, visibly acknowledging, that being gay, lesbian, bi, trans, or queer was something in every community… my god, how different would my early youth have been.

Exactly one year ago, I was sitting right there, in this exact circle, between my best friend Dasi, and a boy named Jacques who I had never met. One year ago, though I’m sure most people knew on some level—I was not out at all, except to my four friends, and my parents. And them, I’d only told a month beforehand. The person you see today is an extremely different person than the one who sat here exactly one year ago.  But I remember just a week or two before coming out day last year, there was a major string of suicides of LGBTQ youth that was covered in the media. These are not people I ever met, these are not people I even remotely cared about on a personal level. But they were people. They were folks who should have been granted the respect and dignity by their surroundings just like you and I are today. And I remember after hearing about these kids, all I could think about was how coming out could change all of this. How visibility could lead to acceptance and integration. How no child, or adult, would ever have to go through the pain that many LGBTQ peoples have gone through while growing up.

But last year, I was too afraid. I mustered up the courage to sit in the second row, at most, and hugged those around who shared their stories. They were so inspiring, so brave. I, was frightened. But this past year, with the acceptance of my friends and family, and most importantly, this family (GLASA), I can honestly say that I am a proud and loud Queer Jew, and noone can tell me otherwise.

This is why I am coming out.

I am coming out, first and foremost, for myself. To live a life of honesty and integrity, and to tell the world that I can live how I’d like, that I can love another man if I want, and that I can gender bend–and noone will get hurt.

I am coming out to the orthodox Jewish community on this campus to tell you that I’m gay, and grew up Orthodox. So the next time you say “that’s so gay” at prayer services, or in your yeshiva day schools, PLEASE think again. Because just as importantly, I am coming out for the closeted queer Jews in my community who are too afraid, to tell themselves, and those around them, about who they are. We are in your synagogues, your yeshivas, your summer camps. Do not pretend we don’t exist, because THAT is exactly the reason why I had to endure painfully hiding in the closet for years, and why so many others have, and still do, as well.

I am coming out for anyone whose environment keeps them from announcing who they feel they are, in fear that they will be disdained, shunned, or even disowned. To tell them that society does change, that they too can have the freedom to be whomever they’d like, and to love whomever they love, without constriction from others.

I am coming out because for some reason, LGBTQ people still don’t have equal rights, and the very least I can do is lead by example. To tell people that it’s not ok if my workplace fires me simply because of my sexual orientation or gender identity. To tell them that, if I so choose, I can marry whomever I’d like, or not marry whomever I’d like. To say that my rights as a citizen in this country should have NO dependency upon the gender of my lover, or whatever gender I choose to be (or choose not to be).

I am coming out, because in NYC, LGBTQ youth are eight times more likely to experience homelessness and, in this country, are four times more likely to commit suicide.

I’m coming out because transgender and gender non-conforming people still face injustice all the time: at home, in school systems, in the workplace, at the grocery store, in doctors’ offices and emergency rooms, before judges and at the hands of landlords, police officers, and health care workers.

But really, I am coming out, so that we can all eventually live in a world where coming out will be deemed unnecessary. A world where the closet will no longer exist, and where freedom of sexual and gender expression will be taken for granted.

So today, I stand here with pride and with shame. Proud of who I am, proud of the accomplishments I and our community have made, but ashamed to be living in a country that still has yet to recognize the equal rights of its citizens.

But there is hope. With each speech you hear today, with each face that smiles at you from this microphone, a difference is being made. Equality is on the horizon, but we must continue striving for it. Because as we all know, after the floodwaters recede, a rainbow will appear.

Thank you

— speech by Noam Parness, student, Queens College

I’m proud of you Noam!

What did you guys think when you heard  Noam’s speech? What’s your coming out story? You could come out as gay, straight, bisexual, pansexual, omnisexual, lesbian,  a human, anything. Or share your support for those that do come out.