Annual Outing

(Part Unicorn…Lebanese)

I first came out to a girl I was madly in love with, over the phone, at the age of 15. It was a heart wrenching process in which I desperately wanted her to know how I felt, but like a regular Paige McCullers I didn't want to say it out loud for fear it would become 'real'. This turned out to be not so bad when she kissed me the next time we saw each other and we spent most of  the summer break fooling around.

Over the next couple of years I stumbled over my words with a few other people and then at 17 a misplaced love letter, to a new girlfriend, circulated quickly throughout the school and suddenly I was 'out'. Said letter included a number of song lyrics which, I felt, better described my feelings for her than regular words could. Turns out, this was pretty hilarious (think doubled over, thigh slapping laughter) to almost everyone who wasn't her or me.

Since then I have had to come out to family members, new friends, peers, colleagues and students. What I really wish is that I'd kept a tally of the amount of times I've had to declare, like Ellen on the front of TIME, "Yep, I'm gay".

There comes a point in every school year when I realise that most of my students seem to have no idea that I’m gay. Now I thought I was now 100% out, but apparently this is just not a thing that can exist. Over the course of my 9 year career I have even had two major outings in the form of me making excited announcements that my girlfriend was pregnant and expecting our first, then second, child.

Why this information doesn’t filter through to the rest of the school community or down through the other grades, I’ll never know. In a way I suppose I should be grateful that I am obviously not being talked about in a negative way within the community, but not being talked about at all? Come on!

Now besides openly stating to previous year groups, for announcements sake or when asked, that I am (in fact) gay, reprimanding students for their misuse of the word ‘gay’ and championing the rights of gay students (and fictional gay characters), there are many other factors which should indicate to my students that their teacher is, in fact, a lesbian.

Let’s start with my hair cut. Now I know for many it’s an unwelcome stereotype (short hair and comfortable shoes…), but in my case it fits. I haven’t got a short haircut because I’m a lesbian, I have a short haircut because when I had long hair I was told I looked a bit like a particular image of an Australian serial killer (for real, an actual one who also happens to be a man).

Now the second piece of evidence which should lead even the most clueless tween to understand that I prefer women, is the fact that I fangirl over Santana Lopez/Naya Rivera like a teenage boy (…or, as truth may have it, like a 30 year old lesbian). Rarely does a day go by without Glee being mentioned in my classroom (I generally clench my jaw, trying with all available will power not to bring it up, but what am I to do if the children wish to discuss it?) and, inevitably, the words ‘Santana’ or ‘Naya’ leave my mouth, quickly followed by 'brilliant' or 'fabulous'. But, alas, the silver band on my ring finger and the knowledge that I have two children all lead to the inevitable conclusion that Miss Q is straight.

Coming out can be an exhausting business on any day. It is especially exhausting having to come back out after all the trouble I went to last year. Not only did I announce that my girlfriend was due to birth our second child, but I also designed an entire competition around what we should/could/might name the baby. I took our new daughter into the school on several occasions and the students all acknowledged that she was my daughter, despite the fact that I had not been pregnant at any time in the 40 weeks prior to her arrival.

So how is it that I find myself today being asked by a student if I am married and when I respond with ‘no’ (and do not then plunge into a marriage equality debate with a 12 year old), she goes on to say ‘don’t worry, I’ll help you find a boyfriend’.

Oh dear sweetie. Miss Q doesn’t want a boyfriend, thank you very much. If you find Miss Q a boyfriend she’s
a) not going to have a clue what to do with him and
b) going to have to explain him to her girlfriend…

Perhaps I should just have a series of Glee-esque t-shirts made up in different colours and styles to wear to work, all of which simply state LEBANESE.