Come Out Come Out

“Come out, they said, cheerfully. “If you’re bi, if you’re gay, if you’re trans. We accept everybody!” What a wonderful attitude I thought. “Come on,” they urged. “There is nothing to fear!” They were so convincing. I would have come out in a minute if I had anything great to come out for. “We will dance in celebration of your diversity,” they said. They whooped and hollered and yelled, “Come out! Come out! It’s your chance! You are among friends!” Some of my best friends had things they could have come out for, but none did. I thought this was odd. Sad. Did not understand why. They were being assured and reassured. This was the place to do it, and the time. These people sounded sincerely sincere about accepting them no matter what. I stared at one of my friends, I thought he would. He shook his head sadly. “My chances of living at home are nil and void if I come out,” he told me later. “My dad said if any son of his was gay he would shoot him in his sleep, and I believe that. My cousin came out, and now he has to find places to sleep in other people’s houses.” One person did come out. She spoke up, and she thanked them for their acceptance. Her parents changed the locks on the front door before she got home. She was sixteen. This is the reality for the children who think their parents will love them no matter what, but on the other hand, know that no matter what means a great deal to their parents, even more sometimes than the love they profess to have for their own children. “Come out! Come out!” the advocates yell, not realizing the consequences. Not knowing how they are endangering these children's lives.