Saturday is National Coming Out Day: What are you coming out as?
Labels, how do you see yourself?
Saturday is national coming out day. If you are straight, you probably haven't thought about coming out! Most people, unknowingly, are assumed to be straight, and thus, the need to "come out" is perhaps a little strange. There are in today's world some interesting nuances here. Children of gay parents may at times feel odd about coming out straight, but I assume in most gay families, the assumption until heard otherwise is their children are, for lack of a better term, straight.
I have been out to my family for over 20 years and out in most work and friendships for at least that long, so the idea of coming out is behind me. I am not sure if people can tell when I am on a plane, train, or walking on the beach, but here I am out and proud, as they say.
What does this have to do with labels? It seems that we all have a unique desire to label ourselves so people can accurately put us in a category of familiarity. It happens in our initial interaction with others. When you look at social media such as Facebook, they have a personal page that allows you to share much about yourself to anyone that happens upon your page. As much as this may challenge me around our privacy, this blog is not really about that.
It really is about how we choose to label ourselves, identify those labels, and what happens when those labels don't seem to fit anymore. Maybe our personality or being has gone on a diet, and now we need a new persona or set of labels that better fits our identity, and how do we and others adjust?
For most of us, these labels tend to be more about where we were born and how we were raised compared to how we define our current self and personality.
I identified myself as a Jewish Southern Man for many years. I was born and raised in Savannah, GA, with a good education. In Savannah, it was then a secondary label of what synagogue you went to in the Jewish community. Then if there was interest would be what school you went to, and frankly really came down to were you in private or public school. So, even as a public high school student, my first label of identity was Jewish and, by default, a white southern man in Savannah. For most of my experience in public school, this was a non-issue for me. Unless it was around a Jewish holiday, Christmas, or Easter, being Jewish didn't seem an issue.
As I went off to college, I wound up at the University of Georgia as a Jewish Southern man. I have previously written before how those labels impacted me as a freshman. In the beginning, I had a good friend who wondered why it was very quick for me to share the Jewish part of who I am, as that was the badge that was my entry card to all discussions. Looking back on it, I am not totally sure, in my mind, if it did define me, or I let the labels I was born and raised become my introduction to others as I was uncomfortable defining me. They put me in a comfortable box for others to easily categorize me as they wanted. Those labels helped me get into a Jewish Fraternity. Instead of getting to know me personally, they also kept me from being comfortable in a dorm room, like others who decided I should not fit in because of those labels.
Truth be told, at that stage of life, those labels did identify me. Maybe, looking back, the fact was I didn't really know who I was, so I let them identify me. I raced home for the holidays. I tried to fit into Hillel but didn't. I didn't join any "clubs" at school because I was shy and had no idea how to try them out. Keeping those labels out in front meant people could somewhat identify me but honestly kept them from getting to know who Brian was... and to more of a degree, kept me from realizing who I was inside.
As life progressed, co-op with an employee of IBM became another label to add to the mix. Indeed as we age, "what do you do?" becomes an important question and maybe the next label. I enjoyed working for IBM most of the time. I learned a great deal. Being a co-op in particular built up my confidence in who I was and my capabilities that propelled me to do better in college and gave me the confidence to be successful as an employee. But, to be fair, I never thought that label would be the leading identifier of who I was. Even when the people around me, especially the more senior people in the branch, identified themselves probably even before their marital status that they were an IBMer. The average lifespan of an IBMer after retirement was supposedly 5 years back then, suggesting that they just ebbed out of life without that label.
I never wanted that to be my legacy, and even as proud I am of my career, and it is still a key part of who I am professionally, that label alone doesn't define my personal value and value to the world at large. IBM fortified my desire to deliver good work honestly, professionally, and at a quality level above the norm. The hard work and rewards were not new to me, but being in a room of like-minded people and leaders made me stronger and more confident for success. This continued to grow and accelerate when I moved up to the New York area.
So, did the labels fit? IBM Jewish Southern Man, living in the New York area and gay, but mainly in the closet at work. Being Jewish at IBM wasn't an issue, especially in the New York area, unless I discussed being Jewish in Savannah. Most northern Jews don't always seem comfortable that there are Jews in the south, and when I mentioned that I went to an Orthodox Synagogue, they were shocked. This mainly was an awareness issue, but it still was interesting. But, coming out as gay at work didn't seem to be a critical issue until I was in a relationship. Once you had a need to be home because you had a personal life, people seemed eager to want to know who that is, and people knew it was more than just a dog to walk. So, slowly but surely, I came out at work. It significantly accelerated after going to NYC Pride Parades and seeing the diversity. IBM had a gay group and was written in the anti-discrimination policy, making it even more apparent. The more I stopped hiding parts of who I was, I became happier, healthier, and frankly more successful.
As I get ready to turn 50, and with a few genetic advantages and a more healthy lifestyle, hopefully, I have many more years to come, labels are bothering me for lack of a better description. Yes, I am gay. I was raised Jewish, but not sure what I believe. I worked at IBM, but other than a year in the middle, I haven't in 6 years but still work in the ecosystem. I was raised southern, but should I identify still as a southern man when I enjoyed New York so much and live in South Florida?
I think the gay part is going to have to stay. We are way too focused on that as a society. The question is, do the other labels still identify me? Or do they actually make it easy for the world to put me in a comfortable box or category to decide who I am without getting to know me personally? I don't really know what I believe in religious-wise. The most religious experience in the last ten years was at a new moon ceremony that wound up with a dog arriving at Frank's door the next day, so what does that make me? Does hearing I was born in Savannah, Ga, really label me correctly these days? It has been more than 30 years since I spent more than a month in Savannah, so I don't think it does.
Being Jewish is an interesting one... because it is both a religion and an ethnic one. By saying I am a Jew, I am labeling myself as part of an ethnic group. It quickly identifies that I am not part of the majority religion in my society, and I let other Jewish people know how I was raised. If I were more religious, does that become more important, or is the ethnic heritage more important? It seems to me for other Americans, that quick religious label is not as prominent. If I am an Italian American, is that really the correct label? Is the assumption they are Catholic, or does the religious label not define people as much as ethnic heritage, unless you are Jewish? Maybe as families become more ethnically diverse in this country, that originating culture becomes even less important. Italian, German American? or Japanese Jewish American? or maybe as Raven Simone rightfully said to Oprah, she is an American with a mix of heritages but more importantly, she is an American.
What I think, and is challenging me to the core of who I am, is that I don't want to be labeled anymore. Get to know me personally, and then you can label me for yourself. Some may label me an ass, or a nice guy, or big-nosed, or big eared... or smart, funny, boring.. or creative, witty or dull, but these will be their labels for me based on getting to know who Brian is. That kid starting out at UGA probably felt comfortable behind labels cause he really didn't know who he was. Or, very possibly, he knew but was afraid to come out to himself. As I turn the corner past 50, I no longer fear standing out and letting Brian be the label, and people can decide the adjectives or labels to attach to me.
Saturday is national coming out day. If you are straight, you probably haven't thought about coming out! Most people, unknowingly, are assumed to be straight, and thus, the need to "come out" is perhaps a little strange. There are in today's world some interesting nuances here. Children of gay parents may at times feel odd about coming out straight, but I assume in most gay families, the assumption until heard otherwise is their children are, for lack of a better term, straight.
I have been out to my family for over 20 years and out in most work and friendships for at least that long, so the idea of coming out is behind me. I am not sure if people can tell when I am on a plane, train, or walking on the beach, but here I am out and proud, as they say.
What does this have to do with labels? It seems that we all have a unique desire to label ourselves so people can accurately put us in a category of familiarity. It happens in our initial interaction with others. When you look at social media such as Facebook, they have a personal page that allows you to share much about yourself to anyone that happens upon your page. As much as this may challenge me around our privacy, this blog is not really about that.
It really is about how we choose to label ourselves, identify those labels, and what happens when those labels don't seem to fit anymore. Maybe our personality or being has gone on a diet, and now we need a new persona or set of labels that better fits our identity, and how do we and others adjust?
For most of us, these labels tend to be more about where we were born and how we were raised compared to how we define our current self and personality.
I identified myself as a Jewish Southern Man for many years. I was born and raised in Savannah, GA, with a good education. In Savannah, it was then a secondary label of what synagogue you went to in the Jewish community. Then if there was interest would be what school you went to, and frankly really came down to were you in private or public school. So, even as a public high school student, my first label of identity was Jewish and, by default, a white southern man in Savannah. For most of my experience in public school, this was a non-issue for me. Unless it was around a Jewish holiday, Christmas, or Easter, being Jewish didn't seem an issue.
As I went off to college, I wound up at the University of Georgia as a Jewish Southern man. I have previously written before how those labels impacted me as a freshman. In the beginning, I had a good friend who wondered why it was very quick for me to share the Jewish part of who I am, as that was the badge that was my entry card to all discussions. Looking back on it, I am not totally sure, in my mind, if it did define me, or I let the labels I was born and raised become my introduction to others as I was uncomfortable defining me. They put me in a comfortable box for others to easily categorize me as they wanted. Those labels helped me get into a Jewish Fraternity. Instead of getting to know me personally, they also kept me from being comfortable in a dorm room, like others who decided I should not fit in because of those labels.
Truth be told, at that stage of life, those labels did identify me. Maybe, looking back, the fact was I didn't really know who I was, so I let them identify me. I raced home for the holidays. I tried to fit into Hillel but didn't. I didn't join any "clubs" at school because I was shy and had no idea how to try them out. Keeping those labels out in front meant people could somewhat identify me but honestly kept them from getting to know who Brian was... and to more of a degree, kept me from realizing who I was inside.
As life progressed, co-op with an employee of IBM became another label to add to the mix. Indeed as we age, "what do you do?" becomes an important question and maybe the next label. I enjoyed working for IBM most of the time. I learned a great deal. Being a co-op in particular built up my confidence in who I was and my capabilities that propelled me to do better in college and gave me the confidence to be successful as an employee. But, to be fair, I never thought that label would be the leading identifier of who I was. Even when the people around me, especially the more senior people in the branch, identified themselves probably even before their marital status that they were an IBMer. The average lifespan of an IBMer after retirement was supposedly 5 years back then, suggesting that they just ebbed out of life without that label.
I never wanted that to be my legacy, and even as proud I am of my career, and it is still a key part of who I am professionally, that label alone doesn't define my personal value and value to the world at large. IBM fortified my desire to deliver good work honestly, professionally, and at a quality level above the norm. The hard work and rewards were not new to me, but being in a room of like-minded people and leaders made me stronger and more confident for success. This continued to grow and accelerate when I moved up to the New York area.
So, did the labels fit? IBM Jewish Southern Man, living in the New York area and gay, but mainly in the closet at work. Being Jewish at IBM wasn't an issue, especially in the New York area, unless I discussed being Jewish in Savannah. Most northern Jews don't always seem comfortable that there are Jews in the south, and when I mentioned that I went to an Orthodox Synagogue, they were shocked. This mainly was an awareness issue, but it still was interesting. But, coming out as gay at work didn't seem to be a critical issue until I was in a relationship. Once you had a need to be home because you had a personal life, people seemed eager to want to know who that is, and people knew it was more than just a dog to walk. So, slowly but surely, I came out at work. It significantly accelerated after going to NYC Pride Parades and seeing the diversity. IBM had a gay group and was written in the anti-discrimination policy, making it even more apparent. The more I stopped hiding parts of who I was, I became happier, healthier, and frankly more successful.
As I get ready to turn 50, and with a few genetic advantages and a more healthy lifestyle, hopefully, I have many more years to come, labels are bothering me for lack of a better description. Yes, I am gay. I was raised Jewish, but not sure what I believe. I worked at IBM, but other than a year in the middle, I haven't in 6 years but still work in the ecosystem. I was raised southern, but should I identify still as a southern man when I enjoyed New York so much and live in South Florida?
I think the gay part is going to have to stay. We are way too focused on that as a society. The question is, do the other labels still identify me? Or do they actually make it easy for the world to put me in a comfortable box or category to decide who I am without getting to know me personally? I don't really know what I believe in religious-wise. The most religious experience in the last ten years was at a new moon ceremony that wound up with a dog arriving at Frank's door the next day, so what does that make me? Does hearing I was born in Savannah, Ga, really label me correctly these days? It has been more than 30 years since I spent more than a month in Savannah, so I don't think it does.
Being Jewish is an interesting one... because it is both a religion and an ethnic one. By saying I am a Jew, I am labeling myself as part of an ethnic group. It quickly identifies that I am not part of the majority religion in my society, and I let other Jewish people know how I was raised. If I were more religious, does that become more important, or is the ethnic heritage more important? It seems to me for other Americans, that quick religious label is not as prominent. If I am an Italian American, is that really the correct label? Is the assumption they are Catholic, or does the religious label not define people as much as ethnic heritage, unless you are Jewish? Maybe as families become more ethnically diverse in this country, that originating culture becomes even less important. Italian, German American? or Japanese Jewish American? or maybe as Raven Simone rightfully said to Oprah, she is an American with a mix of heritages but more importantly, she is an American.
What I think, and is challenging me to the core of who I am, is that I don't want to be labeled anymore. Get to know me personally, and then you can label me for yourself. Some may label me an ass, or a nice guy, or big-nosed, or big eared... or smart, funny, boring.. or creative, witty or dull, but these will be their labels for me based on getting to know who Brian is. That kid starting out at UGA probably felt comfortable behind labels cause he really didn't know who he was. Or, very possibly, he knew but was afraid to come out to himself. As I turn the corner past 50, I no longer fear standing out and letting Brian be the label, and people can decide the adjectives or labels to attach to me.
Comments