your good friend, sam

a week or so ago was national coming out week and as a general human, I was excited to see rainbows. as an individual who falls somewhere on the orientation spectrum that I’m not sure about yet, it made me think about the whole coming out thing in general. I’ve come out and I’ve been come out to, and what I can say is my closest people generally say some iteration of “I don’t care, you’re still my same friend,” which is a perfect thing to say, and it makes conversation go on smoothly. but I think I’d like to clarify that idea a little more. anybody who “reveals” their queerness to me, whether it be sexual preference, orientation, gender, or whatever else, it’s not so much that I don’t care, or that you are the same to me, because those identities are pretty important to a person’s life and those sentiments aren’t quite sensitive enough to that. it’s more like you occupy the same space in my heart and mind. my knowledge of you changes slightly when you come out – depending on how much your identity was hidden or repressed – but since I believe it shouldn’t even have to be a formal event, I like the idea that someone represents a sort of space in my relationship universe, and that that core existence doesn’t change. this goes for really anything that someone “admits” to me – you will remain an occupant of my relationship universe: your rent won’t go up and I won’t change the locks. I know that there are places and spaces all over the world and in this very country where certain identities are violently forbidden, and so not everyone has the luxury of being able to simply live the way they please, and this sucks incredibly. if anyone knows me personally, please know that however you identify – queer or otherwise – you’ll always have the same room in my little relationship universe: stranger, acquaintance, friend or family.