Latest news with #comingOut
Irish Times
06-07-2025
- General
- Irish Times
‘I'm 28 and gay but have not come out yet. I'm afraid it's too late'
Dear Roe, I am a 28-year-old man who is coming to terms with the fact that I am gay. I realised I was attracted to men years ago and had a series of short-lived relationships with women. However, I ended these as they didn't feel right. I had a relatively conservative upbringing where these issues would never really come up with family, but I get the sense that this is something that would be tolerated, not celebrated. I now find myself wanting to explore and date guys my age, and am sad that college and my formative years were in a sense wasted as I tried to repress that part of myself. I am in a high-powered job and have a circle of close friends that are all in the dark about me. Superficially, life is very good and I dread that this will damage my career and relationships with my friends if I come out as it's gone on so long - they still try and set me up with female colleagues. But I'd really like to at least try to find someone to share my life with. I don't think it's fair to date men when I'm sitting on this fence I've created in my head. How can I approach my new life after I've missed the exit? You have not missed the exit. There is never an expiration date on being yourself, and you do not have to be perfect or have figured everything out to begin to live more authentically. By coming out, you will begin a process of exploring, stumbling and entering a new phase of your life that you do not yet have experience in – and that's okay. That's the point. You'll be learning to exist in a more honest, fulfilling, joyful, open way. There will be insecurity and Bambi-legs along the way, because every journey of self-exploration comes with uncertainty. There may also be growing pains, awkwardness, and some heartbreak. But it's going to be so incredibly beautiful. Right now, you're already experiencing insecurity and anxiety and pain – but you're experiencing them through hiding. You're living a life where you have to lie and hide even from those closest to you; you're missing out on full-hearted connection, on the joy (and struggle) of dating people you want to, and on the possibility of transformative love. READ MORE [ My fiance revealed he once had a fling with a man - and I don't think I fancy him any more Opens in new window ] I know you're scared. In our culture, we talk a lot about how scary it is to come out as a young person, and rightly so – but we also need to talk about the unique complexity of coming out when you're a bit older. Because the truth is, as we get older, we get more entrenched in our identity, in our social life and in our roles within our social worlds. To disrupt that, to not only shift other people's perception and understanding of us in a big way, but also to begin a process of self-exploration and dating and trying out relationship with no life experience and fewer roadmaps than straight people have, can feel very daunting and destabilising. You're used to being seen a certain way – high-achieving, accomplished, put-together and, yes, straight. Now, you're considering stepping into something vulnerable and messy and new. Of course it's scary. There is never an expiration date on living more authentically. Queer people have long pushed back against rigid timelines and milestones. We make our own maps But that messiness? That vulnerability? That's living. That's the stuff love, desire and transformation are made of. And there is never an expiration date on starting that journey. Queer people have long pushed back against rigid timelines and milestones. We make our own maps. The theory of queer time, as developed by trans scholar Jack Halberstam, challenges the traditional, linear timeline of life – milestones such as marriage, buying a home and having children by a certain age. Queer time proposes an alternative way of thinking about temporality, one that values unpredictability, non-reproduction, community, and the freedom to live outside rigid societal schedules. It acknowledges that queer people, often forced to navigate exclusion or repression, may experience life events later or 'out of sync' with dominant timelines – and that this is not a failure but a powerful reimagining of what a meaningful, full life can look like. Queer time embraces delay, disruption, reinvention, and the possibility of starting over – at any age, in any way. You are not the first person who hasn't come out until adulthood. You are not the first person who has been scared to start over. But in doing so, you join a rich and exquisite history of queer people who have decided they deserve to live authentically – and who have been brave enough to take the first step towards the life and love they deserve, at all ages. [ 'I'm attracted to women but have been sleeping with men for years – how do I start living authentically?' Opens in new window ] You write that you feel like you can't date men until you've come out and figured everything out and can do it perfectly – but that's not a fence. That's fear talking. No one dates perfectly. No one has everything figured out. You won't feel certain until you start. If you get to Carnegie Hall by practicing, you get to love by having awkward flirtations, weird conversations, and some bad dates first. Most of the men you meet will have been through their own process. Even beyond dating, you'll find a community that understands your timeline and knows perfection doesn't exist. You don't have to come out to everyone all at once. Start with one person. Go to some LGBTQ+ events and tell people you're just beginning to come out. You'll find kindness that will bolster your courage. Let the truth emerge in small, safe ways if that feels better than an overhaul. Begin to build your queer life one brick at a time. Some people may be surprised. Some may fumble. But many will meet you with love and relief that you're letting them see you clearly. And those who don't? They were only ever loving the version of you that made them comfortable. You deserve more. You're worried about time. But know this: time will pass either way. At 38, you could either have ten years of authentic love and connection under your belt – or be exactly where you are now, still wondering 'What if?' and still telling yourself, 'It's too late now. I missed the exit.' There's no expiration date on living authentically. There's also no way to avoid the fear of beginning. But you can choose to move through that fear – towards joy. In The Painted Drum, Louise Erdrich writes, 'Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and being alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You have to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes too near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.' You don't need the full map, just the next step. Tell a friend. Go to a gay bar. Make a dating profile. Say aloud, 'I get to love. I get to feel. It is the reason I am here on earth.' You're not too late. You're just ready now. I'm so excited for the rest of your life. .form-group {width:100% !important;}
CBC
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- CBC
For George Takei, coming out has been a lifelong process
Social Sharing At a young age, George Takei learned that he was different — and being perceived as different could be dangerous. The actor who's best known for playing Hikaru Sulu on Star Trek spent his childhood in two internment camps during the Second World War, when people of Japanese descent were forcibly and wrongfully incarcerated across the U.S. and Canada. Takei wrote about that experience in his 2019 graphic memoir, They Called Us Enemy. After the war ended, Takei and his family moved to a low-income neighbourhood of Los Angeles where he quickly discovered that there was something else about him that made him different: he was attracted to other boys. "I decided I didn't want to be different again," the actor tells Q guest host Talia Schlanger in an interview. "I started acting like the other boys…. I was able to build another kind of barbed wire fence, an invisible barbed wire fence that kept me confined in my body and not visibly identifiable." Now, Takei has released a new graphic memoir, It Rhymes with Takei, which unpacks his experience living as a closeted gay man until 2005, when he publicly came out at the age of 68. In the book, he explains that coming out isn't as simple as opening a door — it's a lifelong process. "I use the metaphor for a long, narrow, dark corridor," he says. "But then you come to a window that allows a little light in … and you keep walking down that corridor and you finally reach that doorknob and you make a decision: you grab it and you open it, ready for combat, if you will." After being punished for his differences in childhood, it's understandable why Takei was fearful of revealing his true self. Even just 20 years ago, he thought disclosing his sexual orientation would mark the end of his career. "But the very opposite happened," he says. "Media seemed to love it. And I started getting calls from CBS, NBC, ABC, from various magazine periodicals. They wanted to know the story behind gay George Takei. Or they wrote roles, like on The Big Bang Theory, for gay George Takei in my Star Trek uniform. And my career blossomed."
Daily Mail
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE DJ Fat Tony discusses growing up gay on a 'rough' council estate with 'skinhead brothers' and reflects on 'never coming out' to his loved ones ahead of Pride event
DJ Fat Tony has discussed what it was like growing up gay on a council estate in a candid new interview with MailOnline. The legendary music star, 58, real name Tony Marnach, rose to fame on London's club scene in the 1980s and became best friends with Boy George and Kate Moss. He is now the go-to DJ on the celebrity scene and a favourite at the Beckhams' big family events, such as Brooklyn's 2022 wedding to Nicola Peltz. But it wasn't always such a glamorous lifestyle for Tony, who battled addiction for many years and grew up on a council estate in Battersea alongside his 'skinhead brothers', mother and father. Ahead of his return to Ministry of Pride on Saturday, Tony opened up on coming to terms with his sexuality and how his family reacted. He said: 'I didn't have to come out. My parents always knew I was. 'I grew up on a council estate in Battersea, where at that point in time it was pretty rough. My brothers were all skinheads, and it was a lot. It was a tough time growing up, but I never had to come out of the closet and say, "Okay, hey, I'm gay", my mum and Dad always knew from a really young age.' He continued: 'For me, I was very, very lucky in that sense. 'But at the same time, as you go through your teenage years, and you discover who you really are, it's always a big thing, because we give it so much power, and society gives it so much power, especially back then.' Tony seemed happier than ever during our chat, after recently tying the knot with his partner Stavros Agapiou, 32, in a lavish ceremony in London. Going on to discuss friends accepting his sexuality, he said: 'The thing about it is if anyone has got a problem with it, they're not really your friend, because friendship isn't about who you sleep with in bed. It's about who you are as a person, you know. 'My friendship circle is not based on who we have sex with, therefore, why should it be any different? If you come out to a friend, and you trust that person, nothing should change except for the fact that you've been honest, and they should respect it.' Tony and Stavros were surrounded by celeb pals including Davina McCall, Boy George, Kelly Osbourne and Gemma Collins at their wedding, held at the Welsh Chapel in Charing Cross in May. Tony had carefully picked the 19th-century church where he began his career when he was just 18. The pair have been engaged since October 2023 after Tony popped the question during a romantic trip to New York. Following the nuptials, Tony is preparing for an epic DJ set at Ministry of Pride, a full-venue takeover on Friday July 5, with tickets available online from £16.95. The all-LGBTQ+ lineup also includes Catz 'N Dogz, FAFF, Josh Harrison, Princess Julia, Reenie, Tete Bang, and NOT BAD FOR A GIRL. The multi-room event will span house, disco, underground beats, drag performance, and more, embodying the spirit of queer celebration and unapologetic freedom at one of South London's most iconic venues. Speaking ahead of the event, Tony said: 'You don't have to be LGBT to attend, you can be an ally. You can be anything you want to be. 'It's about the music and bringing everyone together. You're going to have fun, you can be who you want to be, regardless of how you identify. The whole thing is about love.' On the importance of Pride, he added: 'It's not about the partying and all of that stuff, that comes much later. It's about visibility. It's about saying, we're here, this is who we are. It's about how you do it and how you celebrate Pride that's important. 'We have pride month for many reasons, so that people don't think that they're alone, and don't end up wanting to kill themselves because they can't cope with their sexuality, or who they are, or society tells them that they're wrong. 'Pride is about letting people know that they're not alone, that they can exist.' Tony celebrated 18 years of sobriety in January, and often opens up about transforming his life to remind people to never give up. Tony discovered drugs when he was 18 and would convince himself that he couldn't DJ unless he was high, sometimes going four or five nights straight without sleeping. At one point, he was homeless and had no teeth due to his habit. Tony had an epiphany and he soon quit drugs cold turkey, spending six months in rehab to beat the addiction. He explained: 'After 28 years of putting people through hell every day of the week, you know the support and love that I got from the right people was welcomed. 'The wrong ones always are like rats off a sinking ship they go, and you know, the good thing about recovery is, the trash takes itself out.' On working in an industry where he is surrounded by alcohol and drugs, Tony added: 'We live in a society where there's a pub every 200 yards, and it's more acceptable to drink than it is not to drink. That's the society we live in. 'So for someone like me that made a conscious decision not to drink or to take drugs, I don't find it a problem because I am the problem. The other people enjoying themselves, that is up to them. I'm not one of these people that think, "Oh, my God! I can't be around that," I probably have more fun than all of them put together being sober. 'People can go out and party and and go home and go to work. The world isn't full of addicts. I on the other hand, know that I can't do that stuff. I know I don't want to do that stuff. That's the difference, and that's why I don't miss it. 'So going to work and being in that environment, it never crosses my mind. What does cross my mind is how blessed I am not to be the last one standing every night of the week.'
Yahoo
29-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Parvati Shallow Reveals How 'The Traitors' Led to Her Coming Out
Parvati Shallow Reveals How 'The Traitors' Led to Her Coming Out originally appeared on Parade. For members of the LGBTQ+ community, every coming out story is different. For Parvati Shallow, it was a dropdown list. The Survivor legend sat down recently for an interview on "The Pride Has Spoken," a podcast on the "Rob Has a Podcast" network that focuses specifically on interviews with alumni of the CBS reality stalwart from the LGBTQ+ community. In the chat, she spoke about what led to her realizing she was queer, and shocking the internet with her announcement back on New Year's Eve 2023. And it turns out it was at least partially due to her return to reality TV that would only come about a month later, with her star turn on Season 2 of The Traitors. 🎬 SIGN UP for Parade's Daily newsletter to get the latest pop culture news & celebrity interviews delivered right to your inbox 🎬 "When I was on Traitors, the show is about to air," Shallow recalls. "They sent me, um, like, a PR form for marketing and stuff. And they're like, 'Okay, well, tell us what your preferences are, so we organize your marketing and publicity for what fits you. And so they had a drop-down for LGBTQ+ and they said, 'Are you? Are you an ally, or none of the above?' And I was like, 'I'm an ally.' And Mae is like, '...No, you're not.'" Mae, in this case, is referring to Mae Martin. Shallow had been dating the comedian since March 2023 at the time of the story. The four-time Survivor player told People in January that their relationship is currently in an "in flux situation." However, at the time, she heavily credits Martin with helping her realize her own sexuality. "Oh my god, it blew my mind," she says. "I was like, 'oh my god, I'm queer, exciting!' And so then I just really went for it. I told everybody, and I've never put myself back in the box, and I never will." Related: Indeed, since coming out, Shallow has been able to undergo an entire rebirth of her on-screen career. Following her run on The Traitors as one of the titular cloaked agents of chaos, she made a deep run on Deal or No Deal Island. Later this year, she'll be making her return to Tribal Council as a part of the all-star cast of Australian Survivor: Australia v. the World. And she's even in the process of releasing a memoir, Nice Girls Don't Win: How I Burned It All Down to Claim My Power, set to release on July 8. And Shallow claims in the interview that discovering this new part of her identity has allowed her to enter reality TV in a completely different way than she did the first decade-plus of her career. "It just gives me more maneuverability," she says. "There's more ways to connect with people. I don't know that it reduces my threat level in any way, but it does make people curious about me. They want to understand. So I think even though people know that I'm a threat and that I'm a dangerous player, they still want to get close to me because they want to figure me out. So I think adding in the layer of now I'm queer, people are like, 'Wait what? She wasn't before, now she is?' And it sort of boggles people's minds. So they can't wrap their head around me and contain me, and they can't put me in a box. How do you fight a shadow? You can't." Despite the shadow metaphor, Shallow's star is arguably shining brighter than ever. And it's all thanks to that dropdown question from a year and a half Shallow Reveals How 'The Traitors' Led to Her Coming Out first appeared on Parade on Jun 29, 2025 This story was originally reported by Parade on Jun 29, 2025, where it first appeared.
Yahoo
29-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Coming out to my religious parents was terrifying. I never expected a miracle
I had been rehearsing my coming-out speech to my parents for over a year. 'Hey, mom and dad, I think I'm gay.' Or, 'I believe I'm a lesbian.' Or, 'I'm pretty sure I'm queer.' But those approaches would be too provocative, an invitation to discuss. I needed to be more direct. My fantasy was to hear them say, 'Of course, honey, we've been waiting for you to tell us. we've known you're gay since you were a toddler.' I thought my dad might step up. He had always been my ally. As a kid, we bonded over Radio Mystery Theater. Once a week, we sat in the car eating chocolate-covered raisins, listening to that week's murder mystery. I flew to Wisconsin from NYC for a long weekend to reveal my secret. I was 25 and had been hiding it for six years. It was time to reclaim my crown of sovereignty. Time to stop living a lie. My parents, smiling proudly and dressed in polyester, greeted me at the Madison airport with hugs and kisses. We spent the drive to a nearby restaurant discussing their retirement plans, sharing news about my sisters and their kids, and priming me for a conversation about a man in my life. Dad was an ordained deacon with the Milwaukee Diocese. My parents were always devoted Catholics, but after my brother's suicide, they'd become charismatic Catholics who spoke in tongues. Good for them, I thought. They seemed happier, but I never bought into the ceremonial facade of the church. I waited till dinner was over and, after a few bites into my cherry cheesecake, blurted out, 'I need to tell you something.' 'What's that honey?' my dad asked. 'So, I'm gay.' Silence filled the restaurant. It seemed every clink of dishes and chatter from the servers stopped on cue when I spoke the word gay. My parents looked at each other, then averted their gazes. I tried to stuff another bite of my dessert out of anxiety, but the taste of shame soured the cheese. I had committed a carnal sin…unforgivable. Dad pushed away his rice pudding, gesturing for the check. Mom looked down at her Jello and said, 'How can you do this to us? We've been through so much.' I sank into my chair, wanting to slip under the table and through the earth to be back in New York, in the arms of Diane. I tried to muster a response, 'Well, I've been through a lot too, Mom, but I can't keep this a secret any longer.' Dad grabbed his jacket and said, 'Let's go. We'll talk about this at home.' When I was at my most vulnerable, he still prioritized his ego. He didn't want any of the strangers around us to know what I'd said. He worried about what they would think of us as a family. Of him as a father. At that moment, I was certain I had lost their love forever by the look on their faces. We spent the rest of the weekend in silence. Avoiding all topics related to relationships. A visit to my sister was redeeming when she let me know she was aware of it and was okay with it. So, I left Wisconsin, figuring that my relationship with the most important people in my life, especially my dad, was now over. I returned to New York sad, lonely, and confused. Was this worth it? My girlfriend was president of the Sirens, the NYC women's motorcycle club. We were a conspicuous couple. Usually sporting black leather jackets and chaps, spiked hair, combat boots – kinky, dark, 80s style—attending drag night at the Copacabana, leading the Pride Parade with the Sirens, and making appearances at downtown performance art venues. My drug use escalated. I'd ride my motorcycle across 9th Street in Manhattan doing 60 MPH, high on coke, catching all the lights—a lethal gamble. Whether I lived or died was of no concern. I was already dead to my parents. A year after I came out to them, they came to visit NY and stayed with my aunt, who lived nearby. They reluctantly agreed to meet Diane. That was a disaster. They were cordial but cold. She was tough looking, I'll give them that—but so was I. The only redeeming quality in their eyes is she came from a catholic family. I drove them to Laguardia to catch their flight back home and stayed with them at the gate until their plane departed. I was complaining of wrist pain from an old dance injury that wouldn't heal, saying, 'I haven't been able to lift anything with my right hand for the past year.' They asked, 'Why don't you let us pray over it?' I thought, are you Frickin' kidding me? And said, 'Oh, you don't have to do that.' But they pressed, and finally, I said, 'Ah, okay, I guess,' as I internally rolled my eyes. We found a quiet corner near the gate. I felt embarrassed—I was too cool in my leather jacket, but it was my parents. I couldn't refuse; I never could. Maybe this was their way of saying they still loved me, or perhaps they were really praying for me to be straight. Speaking in a language I had never heard, they held their hands over my wristband. While they said it, I repeated it in silence; I believe, I believe, I think as I scanned the airport for anyone I might know. The verbiage I heard from them sounded like a mishmash of Scandinavian, French, and Portuguese with the guttural sounds of German. It lasted about five minutes. I said thanks and watched them fly into the sky, wondering if I'd ever see them again. Two days later, I tested the pain in my wrist. Nothing changed. It was still there. A day later, I grabbed my bag off the floor, lifted it to my shoulder, and realized the pain was gone. I froze in awe. I didn't tell anyone about the airport scene except my roommate, who said, 'Huh, that's wild.' It stirred something inside that made me question the world, life, spirits, and God. I continued to numb myself with pot and fuel myself with coke. I eventually broke up with Diane and started going to AA meetings. Alcohol wasn't my thing, really, just what I used to cure cottonmouth and temper the effects of coke, but it was all a means of checking out. A year of sobriety led me to graduate school, where I pursued a career as a therapist, thinking that my experiences would benefit others. I was napping during winter break of my second year when a voice awakened me, saying, 'Dad's going to die.' I jumped up off the couch, looked at my pillow, and thought, 'What the fuck was that? Have I gone crazy? Holy shit, now I'm hearing voices. No way.' I paced the apartment and called a friend. I thought, should I call him? Nah, Dad is fine. It was just a bad dream. What would I say if I called him? I heard a voice that said you're going to die? The next day, my oldest sister called sobbing. She said Dad had died while taking a nap on the couch that afternoon. I tried to tell her about my apparition from the day before, but she couldn't take it in. We just cried together. I flew to Wisconsin the next day. It was mid-January when we celebrated his life. I stayed with my mom and slept with her instead of on Dad's waterbed in the next room. I'm not sure why they slept in separate rooms, and I didn't ask; I didn't want to know. The night before his wake, I woke to a cool breeze streaming through the room. The heat was blaring; Mom was asleep, and no windows or doors were open. I sat up and thought, Dad, is that you? I was sure he came to visit to remind me of our connection. He was only sixty-eight years old, mostly healthy, a bit overweight, and just taking an afternoon nap, just like I had the day before. Two hundred deacons attended his funeral from the Milwaukee diocese. I felt a mix of awe and doubt about this religion as I watched the ceremonial flow of robes entering the church. A little Irish priest came up to me after the funeral and said, 'I know you're sad and it's hard to say goodbye, but I think he can do more for you now than he could when he was alive.' I returned to New York, to grad school, to my life without my dad. That spring, we had a substitute professor for a few of our classes. The relief instructor who walked through the doors of my classroom is the woman I married and have been with for thirty-two years. I'd like to think that Dad was behind our meeting. That he posthumously accepted me for who I was. Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ community and its allies. Visit to learn more about submission guidelines. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists, and editors, and do not directly represent the views of The Advocate or our parent company, equalpride. This article originally appeared on Advocate: Coming out to my religious parents was terrifying. I never expected a miracle
