I'm reading this at 5AM after waking up a half hour before my alarm was set to go off. It resonated so much. I frequently don't feel "gay enough" - being in what could pass as a straight appearing marriage with a non-binary partner. In some ways, I feel completely guilty for that privilege, especially in these times, but it's also just the way my life turned out. Instead of coming out in the 90s, I got married instead because, as I so frequently say, I couldn't see a path forward that included both being an out gay man and being happy. That was a false choice, for sure, but the 90s were different than now. Some may call me cowardly, but I was just doing the best I could with the information I had at the time. My partner bears me no ill will and we've supported each other through our respective coming outs.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm learning - slowly - that there's no one right way to be gay. And that, for me, is the biggest lesson of all.
The 90s were different. You made the best choice you could with the world as it existed then. That's not cowardice. That's survival with wisdom. And look what you've built: a partnership that holds space for both of you to evolve, to come out in your own time, to support each other's becoming.
Your guilt about privilege makes sense, but here's what I see: you're living proof that queer lives unfold in their own seasons. Your path isn't taking anything away from anyone else's. It's just yours.
"There's no one right way to be gay"; you've learned what some people spend decades fighting. That quiet wisdom is exactly what others in similar situations need to hear.
You were not a coward. You have a right to feel safe and to make the choices that you feel protect you. Just like every other person in the LGBTQ+ community. 💕
Thank you. I feel like a lot of gay men really don’t get it. Times were very different then and i can’t just turn my back on 30 years. I don’t think it makes me any less gay or any less part of the community although there are some who would beg to differ.
And our people are quiet and hard to find. Maybe that’s why I felt OK about being in the article. It’s exhausting trying to find the needles in the haystack.
First of all, thank you for your kind act of honoring Leo’s experience (and yours too in response to his) by writing about it.
I absolutely loved the article and it really made me reflect on the impact of categorizations and concepts in the process of self-identification. On one hand, our minds need categories and concepts to effectively navigate the outer world. On the other hand, they can have ambivalent effects when we try to make sense of our identities. Sometimes, the defined boundaries of concepts and categories bring a much-needed structure into our complex inner worlds. Other times, the same boundaries feel too confining for the richness of our souls, interests, beliefs, attitudes and behaviors.
So yes, the “quiet middle” needs a voice of its own, even if it’s difficult to hear it when the sides are loud. Yet those living in the quiet middle are the brave bridges of this world — without them, neither side would have a true chance to meet and evolve.
Thank you for this beautiful reflection. You put into words something I often feel but rarely articulate this clearly. That tension you describe is central to many of our journeys.
I’ve been thinking a lot about that “quiet middle,” too. It’s a space that doesn’t shout for attention, but quietly challenges the binary thinking that often defines our communities. And you’re right, it takes a certain bravery to stay there, to hold that bridge without rushing to one side or the other just to feel less alone.
Your comment makes me want to keep exploring this space in my writing, because there’s so much more to say about the richness (and the loneliness) of inhabiting that in-between. Thank you for seeing that and for adding your voice to it. ☺️
Gino, this I relate to, much more so than the “opting out” of gay culture that you mentioned as a protection mechanism in a recent response. Being a gay dad, I never fit with the straights as I was always just that wee bit sensitive, and for the gays I might as well have been straight, eew who wants kids around. What it taught me was that I belong in the undefined area in between and that there is more to life than being a gay just as there is more to life than being straight. In no way do I feel like it’s been opting out, quite the opposite, it has made me far more balanced.
It’s not stepping away, it’s finding a vantage point the edges can’t offer. That middle space can hold more of you, without the constant performance of fitting in. 💜
I'm reading this at 5AM after waking up a half hour before my alarm was set to go off. It resonated so much. I frequently don't feel "gay enough" - being in what could pass as a straight appearing marriage with a non-binary partner. In some ways, I feel completely guilty for that privilege, especially in these times, but it's also just the way my life turned out. Instead of coming out in the 90s, I got married instead because, as I so frequently say, I couldn't see a path forward that included both being an out gay man and being happy. That was a false choice, for sure, but the 90s were different than now. Some may call me cowardly, but I was just doing the best I could with the information I had at the time. My partner bears me no ill will and we've supported each other through our respective coming outs.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm learning - slowly - that there's no one right way to be gay. And that, for me, is the biggest lesson of all.
The 90s were different. You made the best choice you could with the world as it existed then. That's not cowardice. That's survival with wisdom. And look what you've built: a partnership that holds space for both of you to evolve, to come out in your own time, to support each other's becoming.
Your guilt about privilege makes sense, but here's what I see: you're living proof that queer lives unfold in their own seasons. Your path isn't taking anything away from anyone else's. It's just yours.
"There's no one right way to be gay"; you've learned what some people spend decades fighting. That quiet wisdom is exactly what others in similar situations need to hear.
You were not a coward. You have a right to feel safe and to make the choices that you feel protect you. Just like every other person in the LGBTQ+ community. 💕
Thank you. I feel like a lot of gay men really don’t get it. Times were very different then and i can’t just turn my back on 30 years. I don’t think it makes me any less gay or any less part of the community although there are some who would beg to differ.
Yeah, they are not our people. lol
And our people are quiet and hard to find. Maybe that’s why I felt OK about being in the article. It’s exhausting trying to find the needles in the haystack.
"That maybe what he was calling confusion was actually integrity": Yes!
💜💜💜🙏🕯️
First of all, thank you for your kind act of honoring Leo’s experience (and yours too in response to his) by writing about it.
I absolutely loved the article and it really made me reflect on the impact of categorizations and concepts in the process of self-identification. On one hand, our minds need categories and concepts to effectively navigate the outer world. On the other hand, they can have ambivalent effects when we try to make sense of our identities. Sometimes, the defined boundaries of concepts and categories bring a much-needed structure into our complex inner worlds. Other times, the same boundaries feel too confining for the richness of our souls, interests, beliefs, attitudes and behaviors.
So yes, the “quiet middle” needs a voice of its own, even if it’s difficult to hear it when the sides are loud. Yet those living in the quiet middle are the brave bridges of this world — without them, neither side would have a true chance to meet and evolve.
Thank you for this beautiful reflection. You put into words something I often feel but rarely articulate this clearly. That tension you describe is central to many of our journeys.
I’ve been thinking a lot about that “quiet middle,” too. It’s a space that doesn’t shout for attention, but quietly challenges the binary thinking that often defines our communities. And you’re right, it takes a certain bravery to stay there, to hold that bridge without rushing to one side or the other just to feel less alone.
Your comment makes me want to keep exploring this space in my writing, because there’s so much more to say about the richness (and the loneliness) of inhabiting that in-between. Thank you for seeing that and for adding your voice to it. ☺️
Gino, this I relate to, much more so than the “opting out” of gay culture that you mentioned as a protection mechanism in a recent response. Being a gay dad, I never fit with the straights as I was always just that wee bit sensitive, and for the gays I might as well have been straight, eew who wants kids around. What it taught me was that I belong in the undefined area in between and that there is more to life than being a gay just as there is more to life than being straight. In no way do I feel like it’s been opting out, quite the opposite, it has made me far more balanced.
It’s not stepping away, it’s finding a vantage point the edges can’t offer. That middle space can hold more of you, without the constant performance of fitting in. 💜