Locked Closet

LOCKED C L O S E T

Story by Emma CrowE Design by Sarah Stewart

Imagine you leave home for the first time, ready to see the world and express yourself. Now, imagine that the town you end up in isn’t as welcoming as you thought it would be. Your identity, and your rights based on said identity, becomes a point of contention.

There’s an inherent fear when you speak about your life. The person sitting next to you may very well object to your right to get married, or refuse to use your preferred pronouns, or even think your existence is a plague. It doesn’t stop with strangers either. Those harsh opinions could be coming from your own family. That tense environment is one that Queer people face when living in a small town.

My name is Emma CrowE, junior Professional and Creative Writing major and PULSE copy editor. I am openly Queer, and I have experienced the difficulties of living in a small town.

Finding your sexuality

For some people, finding their sexuality is as easy as waking up one day and knowing they’re not straight. However, that’s rarely the case. Sexuality is fluid, and that can be confusing. For example, I wasn’t able to convince myself I was Queer until I was in my mid-teens.

I grew up in a few different small, conservative towns. Understanding and exploring my own sexuality was a challenge, to say the least. It was expected of me to remain chaste, and there was never a question of whether or not I was straight.

I wasn’t allowed to date or spend time with anyone in a romantic sense. The strict rules placed upon me only served to confuse me more. I focused on my attraction to men and bottled up my growing feelings for women. I couldn’t allow myself to be Queer for fear of what my family and surrounding community would say.

By the time I allowed myself to consider the possibility that I was Queer, I was 16 years old. It was the end of my sophomore year of high school, and it got more and more difficult to reconcile the romantic emotions I felt towards women. Then one day, I stopped trying to reconcile and simply accepted it.

COMING OUT

Coming out can be nerve wracking. LGBTQ+ people might have an idea how the people around them will react, but no one can know for sure. My own coming out story is difficult to reminisce upon.

I knew my family would still love me, but there was that debilitating doubt in the back of my mind. I grew up in a religious household in the center of a conservative town. Did they love me enough to learn and change their views?

I was 16 years old, and I’d been grappling with my sexuality for a few years. I still wasn’t sure what label felt right for me, but I knew I wasn’t straight. I’d only come to the conclusion I was Queer one week before I came out. In all honesty, I was too excited to keep it in any longer. It had been such an internal struggle that I wanted the world to know. The only problem was that my world included my family.

I didn’t know how my family would react. So, I chose the best time to tell them: 10 minutes before I had to leave for work. My parents sat in the living room watching one of the various Food Network shows my mom loves. They were cuddled up on the couch, the picture-perfect image of marital bliss.

I took a seat on the side of the couch furthest from them. I was decked out in my black polo and dress pants, the uniform bestowed upon all Safeway employees. A lump formed in my throat as I sat there and stared at my parents.

My mom paused the TV when the tears started flowing down my face. I couldn’t convince my mouth to form the words. The silence itself spoke volumes. My parents tried to reach for me, to comfort me in some way, but I couldn’t handle the affection. I needed to tell them.

You could’ve heard a pin drop. No longer were my parents trying to comfort me. They looked at me as if I had two heads. In that one second, our relationship changed. They didn’t yell, scream or kick me out of the house, but I felt the animosity all the same.

“I’m bisexual.”

For a while, we didn’t speak about my coming out. It became a topic that my family shoved into the back of the closet and locked up tight. There was an added air of tension in the house, but I felt free. It felt like I could finally be me.

I came out about 4 years ago, and a lot has changed since then. I’ve dated men and women alike, graduated high school, chose a different label for myself, moved away from home and became independent. But the best change by far has been my relationship with my parents.

It was rough in the beginning, there’s no denying that, but my parents have opened up their minds and hearts over the past few years. After the initial shock, they were willing to learn and grow as people. I’m happy to say that they’ve grown a lot, and so have I.

My story isn’t over. For Queer people, it’s like we never stop coming out. When you meet new people, move to a new place etc., you have to come out again. It’s especially terrifying in a small, conservative town like Ellensburg.

hate crimes on campus

Ellensburg is not known for being a progressive town. Central Washington University prides itself on being diverse and inclusive, but the town it resides in does not reflect that.

In June of 2021, a student stole the Pride flag from the Student Union and Recreation Center and burned it. As a Queer student at CWU, I was concerned for my safety. An action so violent could easily escalate or incite other acts of hatred. The university did release a statement about the incident, but it did nothing to make me feel safer.

In October of 2021, a few months after the Pride flag incident, homophobic slurs were found written in Sharpie in different locations within Brooks Library. I’ve always considered the library a safe space. However, after the homphobic graffiti, I haven’t felt the same. It’s like my head is always on a swivel, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

life in the community

Being Queer in a small town is rough, but there are systems of support. CWU has the Equality Through Queers and Allies club (EQuAl). EQuAl meets once a week and puts together some of the inclusive events on campus. They’re a great support system to have.

Reach out to your professors, friends, supervisors, faculty etc. if you need any help or resources. There is no need to go about it alone.