a funeral to my straight self
About a month ago, during my usual mindless scroll, I came across this TikTok that stopped me in my tracks. In it, a woman throws a “funeral to her straight self” and it is absolute no-nonsense genius. In a world still overburdened with stories of sad coming-outs, a big, stupid party that inters the corpse of your heterosexuality is kind of a thing of beauty.
My late-bloomer “coming out” story was, in a word, messy. This party got me thinking—if I could have a do-over, what would it look like? Who would have attended my 2020 funeral to my straight self? How would we celebrate? What actions would I have taken sooner, and what do I wish I would have known?
Well, here’s a cheat sheet I would have given my 27-year-old pansexual self. As a note, I’m very aware that some of these echo queer clichés—I claim them only for myself!!
In any case, now I need to know: What would be in your personal coming out starter pack? Comment below with your most creative additions.
Party on, Amalie (our social media editor, say hi!!!🤓)
An open casket displaying all my depilatory methods. I had a full armpit of hair by 5th grade. Needless to say, I’ve agonized over my body hair since I can remember. Thanks, SOCIETY. In my experience, part of the warm welcome to the queer community was the absolute no-fucks attitude surrounding body hair. With that came the realization: Why did I ever care? So, yeah, screw you, Nair smfh.
F a stiletto. In college, I was in an all-women’s a cappella group (cough, GAY) and had to wear black pumps for concerts. The feeling of a thin heel forking itself into grass is on my top 10 list of cringe. Now, 80% of my shoes are platforms. I tend to wear my Nodaleto x Heaven Marc Jacobs shoes most, but Larroudé and Charles & Keith make some great platforms.
Shedding my familial deadweight. I was in denial when I first came out that my sexuality could actually have the potential to burn bridges with some of the more persnickety characters in my extended family. I was wrong! My do-over includes excommunicating the prudes. Be gone.
Keep your claws trimmed. Though I’ve been a short-nailed cutie for 95% of my life, occasionally, I’ll admit, I like a set of femme claws. But I could never let that stop me—Barbie Ferreira knows.
Say it with me: Must Give Head. I don’t even want to think about the times I hooked up with men who had zero intention of reciprocating oral sex. My friends: It was more often than not. Fortunately my queerness has helped me realize that I will never settle for a sexual partner who is afraid of my flower. You! Deserve! Head!
How about a button down. Or 16. Since coming out I’ve somehow acquired 10 more of these than I had before I was out. I get a lot of mine from The Vintage Twin. And that’s on being gay.
Queering the grid. It took me a few years to do this, but I love being plugged in to queer media and culture. Here are some accounts to add to your list: @them, @autostraddle, @hotmessbian, @everylesbianandtheirfashion, @wussymag, @godimsuchadyke, to name a few.