One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was from John Gascot of Diversity Arts/Studios at 5663 in Pinellas Park: John encouraged me to think of coming out as bestowing a privilege on the person or people to whom I was coming out--that I don't owe it to anybody to personally share my truth with them. I probably would not have come out the way I came out had John not told me that, and it was awesome advice: when I came to view my truth as something I possessed, and coming out as a process of which I was in charge of orchestrating. But it also helped to the extent that events such as National Coming Out Day can generate passive-aggressive pressure on those who are simply not ready to come out, and at the time, John's advice seemed almost like a lone voice in the wilderness.
It's a legitimate conflict. I know I'm prone to pasting quotes from Harvey Milk ("Just come out"..."How can people change their minds about us if they don't know who we are?") all over my social media feed, and I'm sure that they can generate the same passive-aggressive pressure on people not yet ready to come out. Because of this conflict, I tend to focus on sharing my specific experiences and specific journey, and try to avoid making generalized proclamations directed at some vaguely-defined "you" on behalf of an entire trans community who certainly does not universally share my opinions. I share my coming out story because it changed my life, not because everybody suddenly knew my secret, but because the response I received in no way resembled the response I anticipated. And sometimes I need to be reminded of that myself--that regardless of what Ron DeSantis preaches, my transition was not the result of a trans community "indoctrinating" me or "recruiting" me, but my observation that there did indeed exist a significant segment of the cis community that was openly willing to accept and support the trans community.
All that said, I do think that whatever pressure to come out on October 11th is illusory--I know my first, tentative steps into my immediate community as Monique, as well as my initial connections with the local LGBTQ+ community, was during the events of "Come Out St. Pete" back in 2019, and it's a shame that the event seems to have since fallen by the wayside, probably a victim of COVID, gentrification, and Ron DeSantis.
One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was from John Gascot of Diversity Arts/Studios at 5663 in Pinellas Park: John encouraged me to think of coming out as bestowing a privilege on the person or people to whom I was coming out--that I don't owe it to anybody to personally share my truth with them. I probably would not have come out the way I came out had John not told me that, and it was awesome advice: when I came to view my truth as something I possessed, and coming out as a process of which I was in charge of orchestrating. But it also helped to the extent that events such as National Coming Out Day can generate passive-aggressive pressure on those who are simply not ready to come out, and at the time, John's advice seemed almost like a lone voice in the wilderness.
It's a legitimate conflict. I know I'm prone to pasting quotes from Harvey Milk ("Just come out"..."How can people change their minds about us if they don't know who we are?") all over my social media feed, and I'm sure that they can generate the same passive-aggressive pressure on people not yet ready to come out. Because of this conflict, I tend to focus on sharing my specific experiences and specific journey, and try to avoid making generalized proclamations directed at some vaguely-defined "you" on behalf of an entire trans community who certainly does not universally share my opinions. I share my coming out story because it changed my life, not because everybody suddenly knew my secret, but because the response I received in no way resembled the response I anticipated. And sometimes I need to be reminded of that myself--that regardless of what Ron DeSantis preaches, my transition was not the result of a trans community "indoctrinating" me or "recruiting" me, but my observation that there did indeed exist a significant segment of the cis community that was openly willing to accept and support the trans community.
All that said, I do think that whatever pressure to come out on October 11th is illusory--I know my first, tentative steps into my immediate community as Monique, as well as my initial connections with the local LGBTQ+ community, was during the events of "Come Out St. Pete" back in 2019, and it's a shame that the event seems to have since fallen by the wayside, probably a victim of COVID, gentrification, and Ron DeSantis.