Coming Out As Gay Stories
Author & columnist, featured on HBO, NPR, and in The New York Times
Dive into our collection of coming out stories from gay men. It's a real mix – some stories will lift your spirits with their happiness, while others might tug at your heart with their struggles. But each one? It's a genuine slice of life, shared with honesty and courage.
Shattered Dreams at Liberty University
Under the imposing shadow of Liberty University's strict moral codes, I walked a tightrope between faith and identity. As a 21-year-old theology student, my life was an intricate tapestry of scripture and secret, woven tightly to hide the truth of who I was.
The fateful day unraveled in the quiet of a study room, where I confided in a friend I thought I trusted. "I need to tell you something... I'm gay," I whispered, the words feeling like a betrayal to everything around me. But in that confession, I sought liberation from the internal prison I'd built.
Betrayal, however, came in another form. My secret spread like a wildfire, burning through the corridors of the university, reaching the ears of those who held my future in their hands. The repercussions were swift and severe.
I was summoned to the Dean's office, a place where judgments were passed with biblical finality. "Your actions are in violation of our moral code. You can no longer continue your studies here," the Dean declared, his words cold and final. In that moment, my world collapsed. My faith, my education, my future – all shattered like fragile glass against the unyielding surface of doctrine.
Read Our Guide, “How To Come Out To Your Parents”
The expulsion was a scarlet letter I carried back home. My parents, devout and conservative, met me with a silence more painful than any words of condemnation. I was an outcast in my own home, my own community, my own faith.
This expulsion was not just a departure from a university; it was an exile from the life I had known. In the wake of this devastation, I grappled with loss – loss of my education, my community, and a part of my identity I could never recover.
In the wake of my painful departure from Liberty University, the world seemed like an endless labyrinth of judgment and despair. But amidst this turmoil, a glimmer of hope emerged in the form of Augsburg University. Discovering that Augsburg had received a 5-star rating from The Campus Pride Index, renowned for ranking religious universities on their LGBTQ+ friendliness, felt like a beacon in the darkness.
With trepidation and a flicker of hope, I applied to Augsburg. The day I received my acceptance letter marked the beginning of a new chapter. Stepping onto the Augsburg campus for the first time, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging, a stark contrast to the suffocating judgment I had experienced at Liberty. Here, faith and identity coexisted in harmonious acceptance.
Augsburg's inclusive atmosphere was a balm to my wounded spirit. Professors and students alike embraced diversity, creating a community where dialogue about faith and sexuality wasn't just tolerated, but encouraged. I engaged in conversations that healed and empowered, finding solidarity with others who had walked similar paths.
At Augsburg, I wasn't just accepted; I was celebrated for who I was. The university's numerous LGBTQ+ resources and clubs offered a sense of community and support that was once unimaginable to me. I flourished academically and personally, no longer shackled by the fear of being my true self.
This journey from rejection at Liberty to acceptance at Augsburg was more than a change of institutions; it was a profound transformation of my life. Here, I wasn't an outcast; I was a valued member of a community that respected and embraced diversity. Augsburg University didn't just offer me an education; it gave me a home where I could thrive as both a gay man and a person of faith.
--Nathan Foster, 23, Theology Student, Augsburg University
As told to "LGBTQ Coming Out Stories"
Coming Out Stories
(continued)
Late Night Revelation in the Dorm
Sitting in our dimly lit dorm room, surrounded by textbooks and the remnants of a late-night pizza, the conversation with my roommate unexpectedly veered into deeper waters. We were both 20-year-old college sophomores, navigating a world of exams and social dynamics, yet that night, the usual banter felt insufficient.
As he spoke about his recent breakup, I found a window to my truth. "I get it, breakups are tough. I went through something similar recently... with my boyfriend," I said, the last word lingering in the air, heavier than the rest.
Coming Out Of The Closet? Read Our Guide.
He paused, his expression a mixture of surprise and contemplation. "You're gay? Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked, his tone more curious than judgmental.
I explained how I had wrestled with this part of my identity, unsure of how it would be received in a college environment still shackled by certain prejudices. My roommate listened, his initial surprise giving way to understanding. "Man, I wish you'd felt comfortable telling me sooner. I'm here for you," he said, a statement simple yet profound in its acceptance.
The news rippled through our circle of friends, bringing a variety of reactions. Some were indifferent, treating it as just another piece of information about me. Others were awkward, unsure how to respond, their interactions tinged with hesitation.
But among these varied reactions, I found unexpected allies and deeper connections. Conversations became more authentic, and I realized that while my revelation altered some relationships, it also strengthened others.
Coming out didn't just change how others saw me; it transformed how I saw myself - more confident, more genuine, more me.
-Tyler Bennett, 20, College Student, University of Michigan
As told to "Closet Gay Stories"
Tangled Truths in the Kitchen
There I was, sitting at the head of our family dinner table, my heart racing faster than the boiling pot on the stove. "Mama, Papa, I have something to tell you. I'm gay," I said, the words tumbling out like a clumsy dance.
My father, a robust man of deep Southern roots, slammed his glass down. "What nonsense is this? We didn't raise you to live a life like that," he barked, his words stinging like hot oil. My mother sat silently, her eyes a turmoil of confusion and sorrow.
In the days that followed, the house felt colder, the silence thicker. Then, one evening, as I was chopping vegetables, my mother tentatively approached. "Darius, is there... someone special?" she asked, her voice laced with a cautious curiosity. It was her way of reaching across the chasm that my revelation had created.
As weeks turned into months, these small conversations became our olive branch. My mother, with her gentle questions about my life and 'friend,' slowly stitched the fabric of our relationship back together. It wasn't outright acceptance, but it was a start, a simmering hope in a pot of uncertainty.
My father, however, remained a fortress of silence, his disapproval an unspoken shadow in our home. But I hold onto hope, like a recipe passed down through generations, waiting to be rediscovered and savored anew.
---Darius Johnson, 39, Chef, New Orleans, Louisiana
As told to "Gay Men Coming Out Stories
Gay Men Coming Out Stories
(continued)
A Stormy Revelation in the Studio
It was just another lively morning at our radio station, filled with the usual banter about dating woes and relationship drama. As one of the DJs, I was part of this daily ritual, weaving stories and laughter into our morning show. But that day, the script was about to change dramatically.
As we riffed on the topic of the day, I found myself blurting out, "Tell me about it. My husband and I have been in the same boat lately." The moment the words left my mouth, I realized what I'd done. A hush fell over the studio, a stark contrast to our usual upbeat chatter.
The other DJs stared, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. "Your husband?" one of them finally stammered, his voice a blend of curiosity and confusion. It dawned on me then - in all my years at the station, I'd never mentioned my sexuality or my partner.
Read Our Guide, “How To Come Out To Your Parents”
The rest of the show was a blur of awkward silences and forced jokes. Off-air, the reactions varied. Some colleagues were supportive, patting me on the back with a "Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" Others, however, were clearly uncomfortable, their brief nods and quick exits speaking volumes.
Word spread like wildfire, and soon, the listeners chimed in. While many were encouraging, applauding my 'courage' to speak openly, others weren't so kind. "Stick to music, not your personal life," one text message read, its words echoing the discomfort of a few colleagues.
Over the next few weeks, the studio dynamics shifted. Conversations that were once effortless now felt strained. Yet, amidst this uneasy new normal, a deeper sense of authenticity emerged in our shows. I realized that by sharing my truth, I wasn't just breaking barriers for myself, but possibly for others who were listening, seeking connection in their own silent struggles.
Gradually, the team adjusted, and we found our rhythm again, a little more honest and a lot more inclusive.
--Ethan Brooks, 36, Radio DJ, Chicago, Illinois
As told to "Coming Out Stories"
The Unspoken Words at the Workshop
The hum of machinery and the scent of sawdust always brought me comfort. As a carpenter, I found solace in shaping wood, creating beauty from the raw. But shaping my own narrative was a task I'd long avoided. In the rugged, masculine world of my workshop, some truths felt like misfit pieces.
It was during a late evening at the shop, the radio playing softly in the background, when my apprentice, a young guy eager to learn the trade, asked casually, "So, you ever plan on getting married, boss? Settling down?" His question, innocent as it was, hit me like a stray nail.
"I'm... well, I'm gay," I said, the words feeling foreign yet freeing as they cut through the sawdust-filled air. He paused, his drill in hand, and looked at me. "Oh, cool. Didn't know that," he replied, a shrug in his voice, and went back to his work.
The next day, the atmosphere in the workshop was charged with unspoken words. My crew, tough guys who spoke the language of timber and tools, didn't know how to broach the subject. There were no derogatory remarks, just a heavy silence, thicker than the wood we cut.
As days passed, I wondered if I had splintered the bond we shared. But slowly, things began to change. A joke here, a shared lunch there, and the awkwardness began to smooth out like sanded wood. They didn't fully understand or accept my truth, but they respected me, the man who taught them the art of carpentry.
In that workshop, among the wood shavings and varnish, I learned that acceptance doesn't always come with grand gestures. Sometimes, it's in the silent acknowledgments, the continued camaraderie, the respect that remains unshaken.
--Leo Hernandez, 45, Carpenter, Denver, Colorado
As told to "LGBTQ Coming Out Stories"
Coming Out As Gay Stories
(continued)
The Unbelievable Revelation
As a 22-year-old college student, the last place I expected to bump into my older brother Chris was at the Rainbow Room, the town's most popular gay bar. It was the kind of plot twist you'd expect in a sitcom, not in real life. There we were, two brothers, each harboring the same secret, now laughing in disbelief at our accidental outing.
We decided to turn this twist of fate into an opportunity – coming out to our parents together. But knowing our parents' penchant for skepticism and their love for elaborate practical jokes, we anticipated an interesting reaction.
The stage was our living room, the audience, our unsuspecting parents. “Mom, Dad, we’ve got something to tell you,” I started, with a dramatic flair worthy of an Oscar. “We’re both gay.” We waited for a moment of shock, a tearful embrace, maybe even a profound family discussion.
Instead, our dad burst into laughter, slapping his knee. “Good one, boys! You almost had me!” he chortled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Mom, always the detective in the family, squinted at us suspiciously. “Is this one of your pranks? Did you two coordinate this?” she asked, trying to hide her smile.
“No, seriously, we’re gay. We met at a gay bar, by accident!” Chris added, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. But our revelation seemed too implausible, too scripted for our parents, who were now thoroughly enjoying what they thought was a well-planned joke.
Dad wagged a finger at us. “Boys, the last time you tried to pull something like this, you convinced us you’d adopted a kangaroo. Fool me once...”
We exchanged a look, realizing this was going to be harder than we thought. “We’re not joking this time. It's the truth,” I insisted, but our earnestness only fueled their amusement.
For the next hour, we tried every approach to convince them. We recounted our individual journeys of self-discovery, our experiences at the bar, and even our fears of coming out. But each confession was met with more laughter and an occasional, “You boys should take up acting!”
In the end, we had to resort to showing them photos from the Rainbow Room. Dad peered at my phone, his smile fading. “Wait, is that... the Rainbow Room's sign? You two were serious?”
Mom’s expression shifted from amusement to astonishment. “Oh my, you weren’t kidding!” she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth.
The room fell into a stunned silence, a stark contrast to the laughter that had filled it just moments ago. Our parents looked at each other, then at us, their expressions a mix of bewilderment and dawning realization.
“Boys, we... we had no idea,” Mom finally said, her voice soft and uncertain.
Dad cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. “Well, this is a surprise. A big one. But, you’re our sons, and we love you, joke or no joke.”
The conversation that followed was heartfelt and sincere, a far cry from the comedic misfire we’d started with. It was a moment of unexpected honesty, vulnerability, and acceptance that brought us closer as a family.
Looking back, our coming out might have started as a scene straight out of a sitcom, but it ended as a testament to our family's love and acceptance – with a good dose of humor to help us along the way.
-Jake and Chris Thompson, 22 and 26, College Student and Graphic Designer, Portland, Oregon
As told to "Gay Men Coming Out Stories"