I was 9 when I came out to my mother one night in February.
I remember sitting her down at the kitchen table as my brother was getting ready for bed, saying to her, "I think I'm ... I don't know what the word is ... "
"Transsexual? Bisexual? Gay?"
"Yeah," I said, "That's the word. Gay. That's what I am."
She asked me if I was sure, and I nodded.
"And you're sure it's not because I had girlfriends before?" I shook my head.
"Well," she said. "I'm happy for you honey. Now get ready for bed."
A year later, I shared my news with my fifth-grade class, and then my mom threw me a coming out party. My brother, mother and I spent hours making the house presentable, washing tablecloths and filling balloons. We printed my coming out poem on lavender paper and distributed it to the friends, and even teachers, who showed up. When I blew out the candles and cut the cake, slicing through the red cursive icing letters that spelled "Happy Coming Out," it didn't even occur to me how fortunate I was. This was a gay kid's dream come true, and I was living it.
Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.c ... z1449NY3Jw
I...wasn't aware people had parties for coming out. Doesn't that go against the whole belief of not making it a big deal?
Discuss?