Dear Roe,
I am in my 20s and I think I have known that I wasn’t straight since my mid-teens. I never wanted to be in a relationship in my teens but now I think it is something I would like to experience. A few close friends know but I haven’t told my family and I’m worried that this might be a factor influencing why I’m still single. I feel guilty that they don’t know but at the same time I don’t feel ready to tell them (ideally I’d prefer to when I am in a relationship but as I mentioned I sense this might be one of the reasons I have never been in a relationship so it’s a bit of a pickle.) This is because although I think that they will eventually accept it, they have said some things in the past which maybe would indicate that they wouldn’t and I feel I have a lot going on at the moment without having to have this conversation. Do you think not telling my family is hindering me getting into a relationship? If you have any advice or insights into my situation I would greatly appreciate it.
Regular readers of the column know that I frequently advise letter writers to find a therapist. This is because the format of an advice column is limited in that I only have the information contained in the letter and can’t ask for more; because many issues are complex and require ongoing work and support; because I am aware of my limitations in what insight or help I can offer; and because I believe that mental health support is vital, should ideally be affordable and accessible to all, and should certainly be utilised whenever possible.
Darling letter writer, you need a therapist. An accredited, LGTBQ+friendly therapist. If you’re in Dublin, Insight Matters are fantastic, offer some low-cost services and they do some online therapy if you’re not based in the city. If you’re in college, there are likely some free or low-cost services available (wait lists can be long on campuses, but put your name down.) Or look up other LGBTQ+friendly therapists online, there are many great individuals who again may offer low-cost services if necessary.
I’m strongly urging you to get a therapist because this is a complex issue where you deserve ongoing support, and because I suspect there are layers to your experience worth exploring and processing in a safe environment.
I’m deeply sorry that your family have made comments that have made you feel unsafe and judged for who you are, and that have contributed to you concealing this part of you. I don’t know how casual or explicit these comments were, but this is the impact of any form of bigotry and homophobia — it makes LGBTQ+ people feel unsafe in their own homes, and fear that the love their family has for them is conditional. It forces queer people to choose between living authentically and repressing vital parts of themselves out of fear and (absolutely misplaced) shame. This is deeply harmful and can be traumatising and grappling with that hurt, fear and shame is difficult and painful on its own, and then there are the layers of hurt and betrayal that can come from acknowledging that your family — the people who are meant to love and support you — are the source of these feelings.
When we love people who hurt us, it can feel intimidatingly difficult to acknowledge and confront the pain they’ve caused, because the relationship we have with them is layered. There can be a sense of guilt, obligation, or the fear of appearing ungrateful for the good things they’ve done. There can be a fear that addressing the harm they’ve caused may irrevocably change or damage the relationship, and the fear of what that would mean for our sense of safety and support in the world. There can be very legitimate fears of danger and vulnerability if they lash out or cut off necessary resources. And even if the conversations around coming out and addressing any previous instances of homophobia go as well as possible there is still, as you note, the emotional and mental effort and exhaustion that goes into absorbing their ignorance, thinking of ways to address it, the process of coming out, educating others about your sexuality, and taking on the responsibility of trying to manage other people’s emotions, reactions, and trying to mitigate any damage to yourself and the relationship. It’s all so much work, and it is not fair that it falls on queer people to do this work constantly in so many spheres of life.
I’m not surprised or judging you at all for not coming out to your family yet, and for being reluctant to do so, particularly when you have other things going in your life. It worries me that you write about feeling “guilty” for not telling them because you have nothing to feel guilty for. You get to come out when it feels safe and possible for you to do so, and when you have the emotional and mental capacity to cope with navigating it all. I would urge you to explore with a therapist where this sense of “guilt” is coming from when you know that they’ve made comments that have made you feel unsafe. That feels like you taking on feelings that should be those of your family members, and I wonder if you often internalise emotions that should be theirs. It can be easier to feel those feelings ourselves instead of acknowledging that the people we love have hurt us, and should themselves feel guilt or shame for doing so.
I’m also curious about your instinct to be in a relationship before coming out to your family. There may be logistical reasons for this, for example, if you live with them it may feel safer to date privately. But I wonder whether you feel like being in a relationship will somehow make your sexuality seem more “respectable” to them. This again feels like you’ve possibly internalised some of their homophobic fears of queerness and hypersexuality or of queer people not being able to have healthy, long-term relationships. I suspect this instinct comes from the desire to manage their reactions, which is understandable given their comments, but I think a good therapist might help you parse out the difference between making necessary decisions to keep yourself safe, and internalising your family’s homophobia and shrinking your life down to appease them.
Your family do not need to be protected from your sexuality, your desire, or you as a person. You are not a problem to be mitigated. And you should not have to shrink your life down and cut yourself off from romance and love because of your family’s ignorance. You deserve love and support from your family, and you deserve fun and loving romantic connections — but if your family is unable to offer you the former in the ways that you need, it does not mean you don’t deserve the latter.
Please get a therapist who can help you navigate this and separate your feelings from those of your family, and release you from the sense of guilt, shame and obligation that’s weighing on you. Gather your close friends around you so you feel supported and loved, and I’d strongly urge reaching out to some LGBTQ+ organisations and social events so you can find community and make friends with people who understand what you’re going through. And if you met someone who is kind, who makes you feel good about yourself, who is offering you fun and romance and maybe even love — please grab it with both hands. You deserve love, in all its forms. You do not need to wait for anyone else to realise that. You just need to believe it yourself.