daily californian logo

BERKELEY'S NEWS • MAY 26, 2023

Apply to The Daily Californian!

The reality of coming out

article image

SUPPORT OUR NONPROFIT NEWSROOM

We're an independent student-run newspaper, and need your support to maintain our coverage.

JUNE 17, 2021

This January, after five years in the closet, I accidentally came out as bisexual to my Indian parents in the middle of an argument. 

It was after five years of “oh, I think I like boys and girls”; five years of cringing at the mention of arranged marriage; five years of testing the waters by hesitantly referencing queer news around my parents; five years of being terrified that my parents would reject me once they found out; five years of yearning for queer Indian representation; five years of “oh, I’m just a really passionate ally” to my family.

Five years burst into flames, but I didn’t emerge from their ashes as a brand-new Tarunika. 

Barely anything has changed in my life now that my parents know that I’m queer, especially considering that I had been blatantly out to most of my friends and acquaintances for a few years. 

All of this led me to consider just how overrated “coming out” is. Like, yes, it’s a monumental stage in a queer person’s life, to entrust people who (hopefully) love and care about them with their true self. But it’s also blown way out of proportion — especially in Hollywood.

Coming out isn’t the end of a queer person’s story: It’s only part of the beginning. 

In terms of immediate changes, I feel a little freer to be openly queer at home and to discuss what I want in my future, but only a little. Prior to coming out, I’d hid a bisexual pride flag on my desk, hoping my parents wouldn’t notice. I’d watched one of the first mainstream queer Bollywood movies with my entire family, examining their reactions carefully. I had sat down with my mom and attempted to explain gender identity to her after a mention of a nonbinary friend. 

Despite my parents’ general positive reactions in the past few years, I still vividly recalled quarreling with my dad over queer rights and why we should care when I was 14 before I was even out to myself. 

In contrast, this March, I managed to sit down with my mom and have her read a short story I had written about an Indian mother’s struggles to accept her queer daughter in the face of her daughter’s wedding to a woman. It had felt like an honest moment between my tearful mother and me, a genuine connection and understanding after years of me being slippery and evasive about my queerness.

But after all, it had only been one moment.

Then there’s also a difference between being out of the closet to supportive parents and being queer yourself. When I came out to my close friends in high school, several of whom are still my friends now, most of them didn’t really seem to understand; even now, many of them look at me with bewilderment when I reference something from queer culture. Even my older sister, whom I’ve been out to since I was 16, doesn’t really get it.

Luckily, I have some queer friends and a pretty good circle of online queer friends to support me, but that disconnect with family and friends can be hard.

Despite that moment with my mom, I can’t imagine sitting her — or my dad — down for a discussion about my future. 

I can’t imagine telling them about my desire for a traditional Hindu wedding — less tradition, more culture — my yearning to take my saat phere with a bride in a red lehenga by my side. It’s difficult to imagine myself surrounded by my cousins, my aunts and uncles and my grandfather when I can’t even know that they’ll accept me as my parents have.

I can’t imagine telling them that sometimes I just want to flash forward to being older, to be settled and firm in my queerness while also knowing that queer identity is fluid and often still developing for many.

I can’t imagine telling them that my own queerness is still developing, that I’ve been feeling outside the gender binary lately and trying new pronouns, that I think I feel sexual attraction somewhere on the asexuality spectrum.

I can’t imagine telling them any of this. They might not understand, not for a lack of trying. But then again, I never really imagined coming out to my parents, to begin with, so who really knows?

It’s all a matter of exposure and openness, I suppose. Gender and sexuality were never really discussed in our household before. Until I was 13 or 14, I wasn’t even aware there were options outside of heteronormativity because heteronormativity was all I had ever seen. 

Everything I’ve learned about queerness, I’ve had to learn by myself.

Most Hollywood movies and shows I’ve seen — with “Love, Simon” coming to mind the most — that depict a character reckoning with their queerness always leads to a coming out. A coming out and a “the end.” The character’s parents have accepted them for who they are, and now, they’re going to prom with their crush.

There’s almost always the white, cisgender, straight-sized protagonist and their exploration of their queerness, all packed with a nice little bow and colorful pop music. There’s never a plus-size, anxious, brown bisexual floundering in college. There’s never a Tarunika. 

But then again, I guess there won’t be. Queerness is not a one-size-fits-all, nor is there an automatic understanding of who you are and who you will be. I just wish Hollywood would stop selling its popcorn flick fantasy of “coming out” as the happy ending. 

Coming out? That’s just step one.

Tarunika Kapoor is a student at UC Berkeley. Contact the opinion desk at [email protected] or follow us on Twitter
LAST UPDATED

MAY 11, 2022


Related Articles

featured article
Instead of treating queer sex and relationships as something normal and human, these straight women treat queer men in sexual or romantic acts like a guilty pleasure, which contributes to their dehumanization.
Instead of treating queer sex and relationships as something normal and human, these straight women treat queer men in sexual or romantic acts like a guilty pleasure, which contributes to their dehumanization.
featured article
featured article
Before I even entered middle school, I recognized that I was seen as undesirable. Even though my Asian family members were quick to reassure me of my attractiveness, they would also call the majority of Asian men ugly.
Before I even entered middle school, I recognized that I was seen as undesirable. Even though my Asian family members were quick to reassure me of my attractiveness, they would also call the majority of Asian men ugly.
featured article
featured article
I didn’t realize I was gay back then. The word wasn’t even in my vocabulary. But watching Troy Bolton sing about his love for theater made my stomach tingle.
I didn’t realize I was gay back then. The word wasn’t even in my vocabulary. But watching Troy Bolton sing about his love for theater made my stomach tingle.
featured article