Monday was National Coming Out Day (NCOD). Started in 1988 by Richard Eichberg and Jean O’Leary, October 11th was chosen as NCOD as a way to commemorate the anniversary of the 1987 National March on Washington for Gay and Lesbian Rights. Personally, NCOD is a time of reflection. 2021 marks 11 years since I first came out. Key word: first. I think a lot of people (read: straighties) don’t realise that the coming out process is really “till death do us part.” You come out to every new person you meet. New acquaintances, new colleagues, etc. So, in today’s newsletter, we have my very first coming out story, a review of Spotify’s Daily Drive, and a gaming confession. Feel free to drop a comment below, and I’ll see you right back here in another fortnight. -Edward
I. This past week I noticed something new on my Spotify app - Daily Drive. It had that vibe that lets you know that this is a Spotify endeavour and not just some random podcast or music suggestion. So, I decided to check it out. Turns out this has been a thing since June 2019 for the United States. Spotify has slowly been rolling this out to more countries since then and Spain was recently graced with it. For those of you who don’t know, the Daily Drive is essentially Spotify’s answer to a morning radio show. Snippets of news podcasts and your favourite songs are mashed together in one neat, little playlist every morning.
I have a morning listening routine already set in place. I wake up and hit play on my news station on Apple Podcasts. I’ll move directly into any new podcasts that have come out that day. Once that is done, I’ll either listen to other podcasts that I’m catching up on, or whatever music I’m listening to on repeat that week. When I saw the Daily Drive, I thought to myself, “do I really need this?” And five minutes in, the answer was “ugh, I hate that I like this.” There is something refreshing about the mix of news and music that I can’t seem to explain. Maybe it’s just reminiscent of the morning radio shows I would listen to on the way to school. Praying a good song would come on before the commute was over. Now, I’m about 90% sure a banger is coming up next.
The Daily Drive is only about an hour and a half, and it’s great for whatever I’m doing in the morning before I start work. For example, this morning I listened to it while getting ready for the gym. I fully recommend it, especially if you don’t have a morning media consumption routine and are looking for one. But as I live in Spain, all of my non-music content is in Spanish. I wish I could customise the news portion to contain content that isn’t just in Spanish. Seems complex, but the minds at Spotify should be able to figure something out. Help us polyglots out!!
II. About two weeks ago, the Apple App Store served me a targeted ad for a new Pokémon game: Pokémon Unite. Damn, did they get it right. I’ve always loved Pokémon and I love video games. It has come to my attention recently that people don’t know this about me, but it also doesn’t surprise them. Anyway, this game is just so good. Running around as little Pokémon, you basically are out here trying to score points in goals while taking down the other team. Rewards in the game allow you to unlock new Pokémon to play and obtain different outfits for your trainer. Not only do I get to run around and (sometimes) flatten other players, but I also get to style my character? Say no more. I’m out here serving absolute looks. It’s the perfect storm of gaming for me. I doubt anyone reading is remotely interested in this. But if you end up playing, add me: HCYGNQQ.
III. It was July 17th, 2010. A hot, muggy day in Western Pennsylvania, I was finishing up packing. That same day I was going to Boy Scout camp, just like every other summer. But this one was different. Earlier in the week, the stars aligned and my whole life had flashed before my eyes through a lens I had never viewed before. I was gay. No doubt in my mind. Sweaty from the heat and my anxiety, I pulled out my black LG Shine. I decided to send four separate texts to four of my closest confidants, all girls. What a cliché. Each text was different, but got the same idea across:
heyyyy i have something important to tell u when i get back from boy scout camp. i wont have service until next week so tty when im back. lylas
And with those ominous little texts, I turned my phone off. It was enough to feel like I was taking a step forward and being brave. But if I wanted to back out, I totally could. I felt I had picked the correct people to tease this press release. The motley crew included my ride-or-die, my neighbourhood bestie, my Catholic gal pal, and my one-year-older ex-girlfriend.
I spent the next week living it up at my last summer camp with my friends. We were the oldest scouts in the troop, which meant we did whatever we wanted. To an extent - my father was the Scoutmaster after all. We played a myriad of card games. We only took one merit badge - waterskiing - and failed at it everyday. We spent our nights either gossiping about our friends who weren’t in Scouts or dreaming about all the shit we were going to get into during our senior year. Amidst all that we also got our troop into shape to receive yet again the Baden-Powell award. Our troop was given this every year at summer camp. As the older kids, we couldn’t break that tradition. What was it for? I have no idea. But there was a big checklist of events and inspections we had to complete in order to receive it.
I’m not going to lie. I have incredibly fond memories of summer camp, and even more so that last one. However, I often found myself grabbing a summer reading list book from my tent and heading out to the field nearby to clear my head and read. Summer camp served as an escape from what I had just realised. It was my last sense of “normalcy” before I went back home and dropped a bomb on my life.
By the time I got back to civilisation and phone service, my farmer’s tan had gotten darker and my texts had piled up. I had that dreaded conversation with my four friends, and to their credit, it couldn’t have gone any better. The ex-girlfriend was proud of me. The ride-or-die didn’t waver. The neighbourhood bestie was supportive. Even the Catholic gal pal took it well. She did bribe me with Eat’N Park pancakes to talk to our youth minister. And to be fair, that could’ve gone very south, but the youth minister was surprisingly progressive about it. I was already one foot out the door with organised religion, so this was really about the pancakes for me.
A huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was starting to embrace who I really was, and I was letting people in on the experience. But where one weight had been lifted, another had been added on. There were so many more people to tell. There was another year of high school to get through. When you’re 17, a school year is an eternity. I know now that I had been very lucky with my first coming out. No one had reacted poorly to my news, not even in the slightest. Obviously, not everything has been smooth sailing since I first came out. However, when I look back on it all, I smile. I smile because I did it. I went from a gay teen to a gay adult. At 17, I couldn’t envision myself on the other end of it all. It just seemed so far away. And honestly, 11 years is a long time!
This is the part of the story where I write lots of uplifting messages about being gay, coming out, etc. That’s not really my thing, so I’ll leave you with this. Coming out is a journey. Coming out is unique. Coming out never ends. So, heteros, this is for you. The next time you’re with a friend who falls under the big umbrella of the LGBTQIA+ community, really look at them. Take a moment within yourself to recognise all the hard work they have gone through and continue to go through everyday to be the authentic, vibrant version of themselves that they are in front of you. And consider yourself lucky to know them.