Today, October 11, is National Coming Out Day—a day to honor truth-telling, to celebrate courage, and to make the world softer and safer for everyone who shares who they are.
What this day is—and why it matters
National Coming Out Day began in 1988 to mark the anniversary of the 1987 March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights. The idea was simple and radical: when people know someone who is LGBTQIA+, fear loses its grip and humanity takes the lead. Coming out is not a single moment; it’s a series of thresholds—private and public, quiet and loud—that we keep meeting throughout our lives. This day reminds us that none of those thresholds should have to be crossed alone.
The quiet miracle of being seen
Coming out is, at its heart, an act of offering. Someone offers you their truth. They hand you something tender and irreplaceable: their name, their pronouns, their story, the shape of their love. What we do with that offering matters—for their nervous system, their safety, their future, and our shared culture. Acceptance turns the volume down on shame, and shame is the great thief of life. When we meet truth with warmth, people breathe easier and grow brighter. When we meet it with bigotry or “debates,” we dim the lights on a human being.
Stories we carry with us
Jae (they/them), 17. Jae told their aunt first, hands trembling over a mug of peppermint tea. “I’m nonbinary,” they said, bracing for impact. Their aunt smiled and said, “Thank you for trusting me. What name do you want me to use?” That was it—no quiz, no cross-exam. Weeks later, Jae said it was the first time their shoulders had dropped in years. School was still complicated. But home became a place where they could rest, and resting made courage possible.
Marisol (she/her), 34. Marisol came out as bisexual to her partner after years of thinking the word didn’t belong to her. She expected suspicion; she got curiosity. “How can I support you?” he asked. “Do you want to share this with friends?” They read, talked, laughed, set boundaries together. The conversation didn’t fracture the relationship; it deepened it. Marisol says she feels “more present, more honest, more alive.”
Andre (he/him), 62. Andre waited until retirement to live openly as a gay man. The first time he brought his boyfriend to Sunday dinner, his sister hugged them both at the door. “You’ve always had a seat at this table,” she said, “and so does the person you love.” It was a line he had imagined hearing his whole life. He cried, then ate too much cornbread, then taught everyone how to play spades.
None of these stories ends with “and then life was easy.” Life stays life. But the difference between being questioned and being welcomed is the difference between holding your breath and getting to breathe.
Acceptance changes outcomes
You don’t need a stack of studies to know this, but they exist and they agree: supportive environments lower stress, depression, and self-harm risk; unsupportive environments increase them. Language isn’t just air—it reshapes the nervous system. A chosen name used consistently can lift mood and reduce anxiety. Being believed reduces the constant vigilance that comes from expecting the next micro-cut. People bloom when they’re not busy bracing.
Let’s retire the myths (and the pseudo-science)
Bigotry often dresses up in a lab coat. Here are a few myths worth politely showing the door:
- “It’s just a phase or a trend.” Human diversity in sex characteristics, gender identity, and sexual orientation has existed across cultures and centuries. Visibility is not novelty.
- “Biology says there are only two.” Biology says nature is messy and marvelous. Sex characteristics vary (including intersex variations). Gender is a deeply felt inner experience and social role, not reducible to chromosomes.
- “It’s a choice.” People don’t choose whom they’re attracted to or which gender they are; they choose whether it’s safe to say it out loud.
- “Tough love works.” Rejection is not love; coercion is not care. “Conversion” efforts are harmful and have no credible evidence of success that withstands ethical and scientific scrutiny.
- “Respecting pronouns is special treatment.” It’s basic dignity—like pronouncing a name correctly or using someone’s preferred title.
We don’t need to win arguments to do good; we can choose care even when a debate invites us to do otherwise.
How to be the person someone hopes you are
When someone comes out to you, consider this a little script you can borrow:
- Thank them. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”
- Affirm them. “I believe you. I’m glad you shared this.”
- Ask what support looks like. “How can I support you? What do you need from me right now?”
- Follow their lead on privacy. “Is this just between us or can I use your name/pronouns with others?”
- Use their name and pronouns—consistently. If you slip, correct yourself and move on.
- Have their back when they’re not in the room. If someone misgenders them or makes a joke, correct it kindly: “They use they/them,” or “We don’t talk about people like that here.”
- Keep learning. Read, listen, be curious without being invasive. Don’t make them your encyclopedia.
What not to do
- Don’t interrogate: “But how do you know?” or “When did this start?”
- Don’t center yourself: “I feel so confused/upset/embarrassed.” (Have those feelings, but don’t hand them to the person who just took a risk.)
- Don’t make it conditional: “I support you, as long as…”
- Don’t treat identity as a debate topic. People are not thought experiments.
If you’re the one coming out
You deserve safety and joy. You also get to set the pace.
- Choose your audience. Start with someone likely to respond well.
- Plan your support. Text a friend to be “on call” before and after.
- Decide what you want to share. A sentence or two is enough.
- Set boundaries. “I’m happy to share this with you; I’m not ready to answer questions.”
- Protect your essentials. If housing, employment, or safety could be at risk, consider timing, local protections, and alternate plans.
- Remember: your truth is not an apology. You do not owe anyone a defense brief for your existence.
If you’re in crisis or feel unsafe, there are organizations that can help (e.g., The Trevor Project, Trans Lifeline, local LGBTQIA+ centers). Reaching out is strength.
The ripple effect: from living room to legislature
Every supportive conversation shifts culture. A respectful response at a kitchen table can echo into a classroom, a clinic, a workplace, a city ordinance. When we normalize dignity—accurate names, affirmed identities, safe bathrooms, inclusive curricula, equitable healthcare—we reduce harm at scale. When we legitimize shame with policy or pulpit, we don’t just wound individuals; we teach bystanders to look away.
Support isn’t abstract. It looks like:
- Schools that teach honest health and history, respect names and pronouns, and stop bullying before it starts.
- Healthcare that is evidence-based, affirming, and accessible.
- Workplaces with nondiscrimination policies that actually mean something, visible allyship from leadership, and benefits that reflect real families.
- Faith and community spaces that practice radical hospitality instead of gatekeeping grace.
- Laws that protect people from discrimination and violence rather than inventing new ways to police their bodies and relationships.
When recognition increases, violence and despair decrease. When inclusion grows, talent sticks around. Communities thrive when nobody has to split themselves in two to belong.
Everyday ways to celebrate the diverse beauty in everyone
- Language of abundance. Compliment authenticity: “You seem more you—and I love that for you.”
- Micro-celebrations. First day using a new name? New pronouns? Mark it with cupcakes or a handwritten note.
- Visible signals. Pins, flags, pronoun badges, inclusive signage—small cues that say “safe with me.”
- Story-sharing. Invite LGBTQIA+ voices to speak for themselves, and amplify them without editing their edges off.
- Repair as ritual. When you mess up, fix it quickly and kindly: “She—sorry, they—are arriving at 3.” Then keep moving.
- Teach the next generation. Make your home a place where diversity is named, normalized, and celebrated.
A blessing for the brave—and for the rest of us
To everyone who has come out, is coming out, or is not ready yet: your life is not a problem to be solved; it is a gift to be received. May you have rooms that fit, names that hold, pronouns like warm coats in winter and open windows in spring. May you be met with softness where the world has been sharp.
To everyone meeting someone’s truth: may your first reflex be kindness, your second be curiosity, and your third be action. May your voice be a shield, your presence a harbor, your influence a widening circle of safety.
Happy National Coming Out Day. Let’s keep opening doors—for ourselves, for each other, for the world we’re building: more honest, more luminous, more beautifully human.
