Tagged: coming out

Blog Posts

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By Thomasin Lockwood
I frequently thought of women, but could barely admit it to myself, let alone go out and explore it. A drunk make out with a female colleague was as far as I went.

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By Wynne Nowland
I decided to draft an email to my colleagues explaining that, the next day, I would be coming to work as Wynne — donning a woman’s business suit, makeup, jewelry, and my chic new pixie hairstyle.

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By Lena Milam
There was no moment in Max’s childhood where I thought he might identify as someone other than a woman.

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By Leslie Absher
I knew intuitively not to talk about the fact that I preferred girls to boys. But when I was called a “lezzie” by a boy on the school bus, it was really clear: it was bad to be the way I was.

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By Ben Haynes
Nick and I were on friendly terms, but we never took the time to get to know each other. I dated an ex-girlfriend of his immediately after the two of them broke up, and within a month or so, I too pulled the plug. Neither of us ever mentioned it to the other, but we knew our attraction to each other was lurking somewhere under the surface.

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By Karen Raines
I was watching TV the other day someone in the show I was watching asked, “If you met your eighteen-year-old self and could only say three words, what would they be?” Immediately, I knew mine: “Yes, you are.”

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By Matthew Bamberg
San Francisco’s epidemic tidal wave began just a few short years after Dianne Feinstein heard gunshots in San Francisco’s City Hall, and then found Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk with a spatter of gunshot wounds that killed them both. It was time for my coming out.

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By Cory Allen
Working in such a hyper-masculine career field, for an agency where the Sheriff could fire you for any reason, added to the anxiety and fear of revealing who I was.

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By Garrett Glaser
I never brought up the subject of an on-air disclosure to NBC, so station executives had nothing to prohibit. I always figured it was inappropriate for any reporter to make themself a part of the story they were covering; that’s how I was educated.

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By Melissa Giberson
But my journey to figuring out who I was, looking back from the other side of the threshold I unintentionally breached, officially began with that imposing question. I might as well have asked, “Who am I?” as if in some amnesic state, because suddenly I had no idea.

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