Coming out should be an everyday thing

About exactly a year ago, I took that one wrong turn after a meeting that ended a bit too early. And then I ran into the sweet founder of Humans of Bombay. Fifteen minutes of a conversation later, I came out to her — it wasn’t a pompous statement as I make it sound right now; it was an answer to a question. Would I like to tell my parents, she asked?

You can never answer questions like that — it’s like asking someone if they’ve ever killed someone or whether they like ice cream. But I had to do it nonetheless, letting your parents find out that you like Katy Perry through Facebook is one thing, but stumbling onto your sexuality is another. Everyone I had told until then had told me to wait — ‘Do it when you are seeing someone’, ‘Do it when you are financially independent’, ‘Do it when you turn 35,’ ‘Actually, don’t do it all.’ But yet, I had to take that leap.

Then something strange happened. To cut a really long story short, it was all right. My parents accepted me for who I am, no questions asked, apart from the lone ‘So what do we do with all the jewellery that we have been saving for your wedding?’

The problems of my wedding inheritance aside, it was done over three glasses of lemon tea. Eight years of thinking up different worst-case scenarios, and I came out of the closet — unscathed, without a scratch — I found my window and I climbed out of it — there were no doors, not even closets. I felt free stepping out — and the best part?

I wasn’t even prepared for what came next. The love poured in from all over — in the form of phone calls, hugs and text messages — uncles, aunts, long distant relatives, friends and acquaintances that I barely made eye contact with. These little red boxes of notifications piled up, and so did my belief in humanity. The world is a kind place, and sometimes we don’t even need to look deep inside to find it; it’s all around us.

Coming from a moderately orthodox, middle class family that discusses relatives and stock prices at the dinner table, my parents are absolute darlings, and so is the rest of my family – I realise I don’t actually give them the credit they deserve for the gems that they are, but they are so indeed. When I meet someone now, they don’t treat me any other then they used to. My joyful aunt is still so, and so is the bitchy friend from college. They all accept me nonetheless. The most they question me is about my hypothetical alcoholism. (Which isn’t a problem, so thank you very much.)

But coming out isn’t the same for everyone. It’s far from the Hallmark movie that I make it out to be — every year, more and more people are pushed back into the closets to rot away with clothes that are too tight and love notes that are long forgotten. As an upper class ‘straight-acting’ gay men with a degree and social exposure, things are different for me. I personally know gay men who have been abandoned, disowned and even condemned to hell. Coming out shouldn’t be an ordeal or a celebration; it should be a regular, everyday thing.

How about we individually decide not to make homosexuality a big deal? So don’t say ‘something is gay’. Don’t point at someone who dresses differently. Don’t snigger at the guy who doesn’t play cricket. Don’t say that you want a gay best friend because you think it’s cool. Don’t assume. Don’t presume, but most importantly, don’t bully.

Maybe sometime in the future, a month, a year or even a decade – every LGBT person in this country can enjoy the same privileges that I do. And maybe, just maybe, it won’t be a privilege, but a way of life by then.