I like to play games when asked direct questions about my experiences as a younger gay man in order to be deliberately vague. I am the master of diversion and re-direction, and can usually charm myself out of the question. I decided, however, that since I was the one putting this page together, it would be inappropriate to dodge the question. My "coming out" story is more like a "coming out, then back in, then out again, then back in" story. To tell you the truth, I have been a coward in many respects for much of my life. I have always let others lead me where they wanted me to go. Today, however, I am out for the final time. Today, I come out for me.Growing up in Brasil is difficult to explain to anyone who hasn't lived there. Family was, at least for everyone I knew, everything. We always ate all of our meals together. If we were going out in the afternoon or at night, it was with at least one sibling. I shared a bedroom with two brothers until I graduated from high school. Most of all, secrets just didn't exist. It was impossible. My two older brothers often dated the same girls, and it was expected that I do the same. It became a joke at school. When my brother Alexandre would date someone, inevitably someone would make the comment to her that "Tiago is next." More often than not, she would acknowledge that it was probably true. It was kind of like having your life scripted fou you. There was very little I could do to re-write, either. I could refuse to date a girl, of course, but not without insulting my brothers for having dated her before. Then, there would also be the problem of explaining why I wouldn't date her when I already knew perfectly well from my brothers that she would not be reluctant to have sex. Everyone within our circle knew everyone else, and you just didn't hang out with anyone else. This American phenomenon of having a large circle of casual aquaintances just didn't exist. This made the old "I'll just pretend to be dating someone." routine not even an option.
All of this to say that for most of my adolescent life, I felt pretty much compelled to follow along and play the game. I knew, of course, from a very young age that I was gay. I can remember buying magazines on the stand downtown so that I could write down addresses from the personals. I'd always do it while I was walking, and never for more than a block or two before I would dispose of the magazine. I would write to guys in other cities nearby, and try and plan day trips to see them. It seldom worked out well, as any day trip would necessitate inviting a brother along. I tried to pick places I knew they wouldn't want to go. This left my budding sex life (except for the girls, but I don't really count that)limited to one week a year - Carnival.
Carnival was the one time of the year that I could go and do as I pleased. This was mostly because everyone else in the entire country is doing exactly the same. Nobody takes any notice where you go, or even if you are alive until it is over. As long as you had some good stories to tell when the week was over, you were okay. I still went out of town as much as possible, but that was mostly to satisfy my paranoia.
By the time high school was over, I was ready. I had been corresponding with my aunt in the United States, and I knew my English was very good, so I got myself accepted at the University of Massachusetts and took off. Needless to say, I went wild. Unfortunately, a little too wild. I got into drinking much more heavily than I ever had at home, and started doing drugs. I also had my first taste of being "out". I knew nobody, so I told everybody. I learned to fight very well those two years just to keep from getting beaten up all of the time. I also gained a LOT of weight, and did worse and worse in school. When my parents came up for a visit my Sophmore year, my mother about had a heart attack. She saw how much weight I had gained and insisted that I drop out and come home. (being fat is a cardinal sin where I come from) Being the coward that I am, I gave in and left after spring semester. I went home, and therefore right back into the closet.
At this point, however, it was no longer acceptable to date my brothers' ex-girlfriends. It was expected that I have a serious girlfriend and get ready to be married. Again, playing along, I aquired Sylvia. Now Sylvia was a great friend, and we had a good time. The sex wasn't even yucky. I began to think back on all of the fights and bashing I had received at school, and listening to the pressure from our families, and we were married. A year later, we were divorced. If you know anything about latin culture, this was a disaster of biblical proportions. Cheating, living miserably, and even killing your spouse were all acceptable options, but divorce was unheard of. It was the most rebellion I had ever engaged in. I guess I was feeling heady, but I decided to continue the trend and I left for the states again, this time for Orlando. I got a job as a prep chef for Disney, and figured I was in fag heaven. In a lot of ways I was. I had friends, a good job, and a generally good life. Then my roommate, and best friend, gave me the news. He was HIV positive, and those sores on his leg were getting worse rather than better.
I had a long talk with him, and we cried a lot, and I promised I wasn't going anywhere. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for all of our friends and most of his family. He got sick quickly, and within two years he died. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life to watch him waste away. That coupled with my bitterness towards my friends sort of stuck with me like a rock in my gut. I was seriously considering going back home when I met a great guy named Marcus, and we became friends. He and I got to be close quickly, and I started to feel a little better about things. Unfortunately, that was when he suddenly developed Meningitis. In a whirlwind weekend, I had lost him as well. That was all I could take, and I ran back home. I couldn't shut the closet door fast enough.
That takes me up to about six months ago. I stayed home for a while, but I had disappointed everyone and I was still fat, so it was sort of cold at home. I decided to take a vacation to visit my cousin who was living in Orlando. I pulled all of my savings and left for a month. That was three months ago. My cousin introduced me to the internet, and to some wonderful people at Fortunecity. I made some friends of my own, and even got my job back at Disney. I had a hard time there, though, working with some of those old "friends", and went into business for myself driving a taxi and running a charter service. I am back in school, and even have a new boyfriend. I am going to go to the Coming Out Day picnic on campus to take the final leap. I have been out online for a while, but that really doesn't involve a whole lot of personal risk. This time, the hinges are coming off of the door come hell or high water. It's time to be living on my terms.
