My coming out story is one for the history books, a wave of shame comes over me whenever I think about it. I was an excited and carefree 17 year old, who wanted to utilise my ‘free yard’ at every opportunity. Everything was planned perfectly for my encounter with Anita.
My Mum would leave home everyday at 7.30 am and be back at around 5.40 pm. To be safe I told Anita to come at midday, which gave me enough time to test the waters with my mum. She’d always forget something and come back home within the hour.
A tidy room, a selection of L word DVDs (we didn’t have Netflix in 2007) and munchies on deck; the scene was set. Anita arrived and we did our usual routine. She was ‘confused’ and would act like she wasn’t sure, so we’d always start off with munchies and the L word. Nice and light. That would always progress into the get down with the sweet sweet get down.
Two hours later and that time had finally arrived! All inhibitions gone, along with my common sense, ability to hear and judgement of time. Ten minutes in (or what I thought was 10 minutes) and there was a loud shriek. At that very moment I’m pretty sure I had suffered from heart failure.
My mum had managed to come in the house and up the stairs without me hearing her. How long had she been standing there? It was 3:00 pm what was she doing back?
Panic had set in. I found myself making some very irrational movements that clearly were not going to help my situation. I had been caught red handed!
She threw the door open and gave me that look (that look that told me that she would send me back to my maker) then proceeded to drag the covers from us. We held on to those covers with all our strength until she gave up and stormed out of the room.
I literally thought my life was over. I could hear my mum downstairs on the phone screaming “you’d never guess what I just caught Laila doing”. Calling my aunts was the usual protocol when I was in trouble.
I went downstairs and I got the cussin’ of a lifetime and was told to get out. The craziest thing was I wasn’t even sad. The thought of sitting in that house knowing my mum had heard me having sex, let alone having sex with a girl was traumatising.
After three days of hiding at Anita’s house my aunt came to get me. We had the most awkward conversation on the drive to my house. She told me about her hay days in Heaven, which was not something I needed to hear. As we pulled up to my house she explained that my mum still loved me but needed time to deal with her emotions.
That night my mother and I sat down and spoke. We cried, we laughed but most importantly we bonded. Since that day my mother has been so supportive. She dropped me off at my first LGBT rave, came with me to London Pride and supported me through all of my crazy encounters with females.
Illustrations by Zombielicious Illustration for A.Z Mag
This story was submitted anonymously.