photo by Kevin Truong
photo by Kevin Truong
photo by Kevin Truong
photo by Kevin Truong
photo by Kevin Truong
photo by Kevin Truong
photo by Kevin Truong
Yonathan, in his own words: “When I came out in Israel, 10 years ago, being gay meant complete identification with the LGBT community and its struggle for equal rights. My “newfound” identity mixed with my already strong social sensitivity from home, and pushed me to become a gay rights advocate, and eventually a serial social entrepreneur. For most of my 20’s, I founded and managed several non-profits. Initially, I was in leadership positions in almost every LGBT struggle or organization the community had – from the founding of the Israeli Gay Youth organization, introducing sensitivity training to the Israeli police, the founding of the LGBT community center in Tel-Aviv, to managing community development organizations dealing with visibility in traditionally homophobic communities. As the years went by my identity became more integrated with other parts of my life and it stopped being the center of my existence. Nowadays, being gay is not my identity, but rather a part of my sexual identity. It still informs the way I look at the world and analyze things. It is a great privilege to have a sense of community and belonging, to be embedded in a larger culture (whether Jewish, Israeli, or NY) and have a “pink” pair of glasses to look at, and critique them with. Being part of a stigmatized minority, shunned from mainstream society, you have to fight for your rights but it also enables one to chart one’s own path – we don’t have to be in a relationship, we don’t have to marry, we don’t have to have kids, rather we choose the lifestyle that suits us. Not having the burden of conformity is a great gift. That’s why it’s so funny and interesting for me to see how somehow I found myself in a long-term relationship (9 years; gosh, time flies!), planning to have kids in the near future.
Although I was lucky to never be truly alone, I did feel lonely and isolated for most of my teenage years. I felt I had this big secret, a huge burden, to carry and hide wherever I went. That also meant I was always on guard – watching what I say and not really sharing myself with the people closest to me. I used to think that this was because of how homophobic society was but after I came out I realized that the homophobia I really had to deal with, and forgive, was my own. I had these awful scenarios playing in my head about what being gay means and what the repercussions of coming out would be but I’m fortunate that none of them came true. As it turns out those scenarios I had in my head were just that – in my head. Figments of my internalized homophobia. Many years after coming out I happened to sit with a former (straight) high school friend and I told her all this. She asked me naively why did I think all those bad things would happen if I weren’t careful. I explained to her how not having anyone around me that’s gay and how the fact that no one – teachers, parents, kids – ever talked about LGBT people as legitimate people contributed to that. That’s when she said something that shook me. She said, in a voice full of surprise, “what do you mean no one gay?!? I used to go out with Niv and his boyfriend to parties since we were 16.” That was another, very shocking, proof for me that the isolation I felt during those many years was self-imposed. The closet I spent my teenage years in was of my own making just as it was informed by signals from mainstream heterosexist culture.
What I took from this was that you don’t have to be exposed to homophobic views to internalize homophobia. Silence and lack of visibility is enough to make people equate different with wrong. Even if they themselves belong to that different group.
After coming out the hardest challenges were behind me. As I told my parents when I came out – I acknowledge that living as an openly gay man is not as easy as being straight in today’s society but I know that there is no other way for me and I know that a person who has withstood the hardest test – the internal test of confronting ones own demons – can withstand any external test.
There are still many basic rights that other people take for granted and we have to fight for but I’m lucky that my country (Israel) for the most part is very progressive and our joint struggles bear fruit.
I started coming just as my army service was nearing its end (Israeli men and women are conscripted when they’re 18). I was 22 and was waiting for the “right time” to come out since I was 15. Thanks to an 18-year-old boy I spoke to I realized there is no such thing as “the right time”. He told me he came out when he was 17 and that made me realize that I was wasting time, living my life “on hold”. That was the cognitive “aha” moment that pushed me to come out. The emotional push came from a movie I happened to catch on TV. It depicted the love story of two college boys. It struck me in such a deep way that I couldn’t ignore my heart’s desire anymore. It was like I was awoken from a long sleep and it became crystal clear that I see my future with a man.
I didn’t know anyone gay so I looked online for anything I could find. I started gathering information on the LGBT community and getting guidance from community organizations. In my first call to an LGBT helpline I was in utter shock, I shivered uncontrollably and could barely speak. The funny thing is that later on I became good friends with the volunteer who answered my call and we worked side by side on gay rights struggles. I went to a social group where I met my first boyfriend and we were together for a little over a year. Once I had enough confidence I decided it’s time to take the next step – coming out to my parents. I realized I was sick of hiding who I was and that I don’t want to lead a double life. Once I started gathering information for my parents I went through a very organized process and as I was an intelligence researcher in the army it felt in many ways as if I’m putting together an intelligence brief for them. I did something not many did which was to regularly attend PFLAG meetings. It helped me see things through my parents’ eyes so I could be a better resource for them once I come out.
To “practice” coming out I started coming out to my friends. On the way to the first person I ever came out to I realized I had never said out loud the words “I am gay”. To this day I remember how, just before her house, I looked at my car’s mirror and shouted at my reflection “I am gay, I am gay, I am gay”. It became great fun to come out to friends and I was looking for more and more people to come out to. At the same time I felt like an idiot because I realized that my friends didn’t care that I was gay. Turns out the only one who really had an issue with my sexuality was me.
Three months after I happened across that movie I came out to my parents. First I told my mom, which took it well, and then my dad. His reaction was very surprising. My dad never knew anyone gay (at least that’s what he thought at the time) so my mom and I didn’t know what to expect and she was obviously anxious about it. I made it a rule that I tell everyone face to face and my parents definitely deserved the same. Nevertheless, I prepared a backup plan in case my dad wouldn’t want to talk to me – a long letter describing the process I went through till coming out. On the designated day I sat down next to him at the kitchen table, closed the television set and told him “dad, I have something important to tell you. First though, please read this letter”. As my dad read through it he got teary eyed. Thinking he probably has many unsettling thoughts about the kind of future I’m facing I told him “don’t worry, dad. I’m not going to be alone or get diseases and…” I didn’t quite finish when my dad moved his eyes from my letter, looked straight at me, and said “No Yoni, I only feel bad you had to go through all this on your own. Had you told us we could have been there for you.” It wasn’t negative thoughts about my adult life that made him sad but rather the thought that he had not been there for me in my teenage years.
And this is how I finished my letter: “I remember once, a long time ago, I cried after one of our Friday family dinners and you did not understand why. I was afraid that our family life and togetherness will be gone forever with three words – ‘dad, I’m gay.’ Of course, you didn’t know it back then but I was referring to this exact day when you find out that your son is a bit different then what you had in mind. Mom, dad, I hope you will continue to be the same parents and that you will allow me to continue to be the same son”
Luckily they have. They met my boyfriends and welcomed Avshalom to the family. In fact, we lived in their house for a year after our second date (yes, we moved in on the second date). We’ve been together for 9 amazing years since then. I’m truly blessed with a very supportive, loving, intelligent, partner and parents”
Adolescence is such a roller-coaster of experiences, isolation and loneliness where we are all tortured with having to work out who we are, who we want to be and who we think others want us to be, gay, straight or otherwise. Yoni’s touching words are poignant reminders of the enormous breadth of commonality we all share and how crucial it is that we have access to love, good guidance and understanding in coming to terms with whoever we are.
Best wishes to Avshalom and Yonathan for their lives together and the blessings the future brings them.
Once again, a great set of shots Kevin and Happy New Year to you and all we have the pleasure of meeting here!
Patti, thank you for your insight. I agree with your comment and would just add that when you’re part of a minority (especially one stigmatized, silenced, and persecuted) you not only feel different, but also hear around you that your difference is “wrong”. Or you don’t hear anything which is sometimes just as harmful. The struggle we all go through as adolescents is, therefore, that much harder for minorities.