Epiphany is coming up. Every year at this time I think about the kind of graceless way I came out to my parents on the Feast of Epiphany, 1996.
Close on the heels of thinking about coming out to my parents is the process of coming out to myself. My orientation should have been obvious to me in 1976 (when I was in sixth grade), and again in 1983 (when I was a Reed freshman). Well, okay; now that I really think about it, Captain Kirk loosing his shirt in the late sixties and early seventies was compelling in a way that I couldn't articulate at the time. But, for various reasons, the process didn't really happen until 1993 (when I was 29 years old).
Over the years, various friends have mentioned, almost as asides, "Oh, John; we all figured you were gay." (The high school jocks jeering "gay-boy" at me and fellow dance class students don't count.) My response has always been between a bemused, "What?" and "Why was I the last one to know?" So this year I'm curious - when did you know; and if you knew in the eighties and nineties did you think I knew, or were you waiting for a moment of self-discovery, or something else ?