You might've noticed more coming out stories and LGBT+ content on your social media feeds than usual. It's because, though pride events are celebrated throughout the year, June is pride month in the US and many countries throughout the world, commemorating the Stonewall riots.
For me personally, it's an interesting time to reflect, since I took the step of coming out to my parents in June two years ago.
When I see people come out online, there's obviously congratulations and support, but one reaction I tend to see are comments like 'It's [insert year here], nobody cares if you're LGBT+' or 'people wouldn't care if gay people just kept to themselves, why make a big deal out of it?' I've also heard this repeated in person, directed at me and people I know.
These types of comments not only dismiss the many places it's unsafe to come out, but imply that coming out is unnecessary. I get why people could think that — there is generally more acceptance for LGBT+ people than ever before. But it implies that we live in a world where discrimination against LGBT+ people isn't a reality.
We don't live in that world. We live in a world where the default is straight and cisgender. Where children are abused for seeming gay and LGBT+ people are at a higher risk of homelessness, bullying and violence. Where trans people have an unemployment rate of 9.1 per cent and 90 per cent experience discrimination in the workplace. It's evident that many people do still care if you're LGBT+.
In my own timeline of questioning my sexuality to coming out, I spent about seven years in the closet. Straight cisgender people often talk about being closeted as a kind of negative space, but the closet is not a neutral zone.
Seven years of nodding along to comments about the inevitable husband or boyfriend I would have. Seven years of taking the time to unlearn the ideas I had internalised like 'bisexuality isn't real' and trying to find role models by watching an endless stream of coming out videos on YouTube. Seven years where I felt guilty about fearing the worst from my family and friends, remembering every unthinking homophobic comment and wondering, what if?
"It doesn't change everything, but it's a signal to others and, more importantly, to ourselves, that we aren't ashamed of who we are."
The comments also dismiss how terrifying coming out the closet can be.