My Pushing Out Stori743 views
I never realli felt I was bound to a closet. I began crushing on girls since I was 9 years old. I fell for a classmate called Nahla. She was the cheeki girl in class with straight, black, mid-length hair, a type I still fall for easili. I used to wait for Nahla outside class to leave school together. By together I mean her walking away unaware of me trailing behind her. My crush went on for a few years before Nahla finalli left the school, and I, typicalli, crushed on someone else.
As a I grew up, my attraction to girls remained strong, and I acquired several other types. At the age of 14, I discovered there was a word that described people who were similar to me, sou7aqiah1. What a nasti word! As if they picked the most undesirable word in the Arabic language and dumped it on us. Yekh. “Su7aQiah!” But I was glad there were more people like me.
Soon after, I came out to my best friend. I wrote a letter for her in which I told her “I think I’m bisexual!” I consider that as one of the major lies I have told in my life. I gave her the letter at school and asked her to read it at home, alone. And in the note I mentioned that she should call me before 5 pm if she was okay with me being “hek2”. And I went home. And I waited, and waited. It was past 6. I called her and asked “don’t you wanna be my friend animore?”, and she was surprised as to why I was asking her that question. So I had to remind her of my note and she said “oh… I’m sorri I forgot to call you. I was watching TV. Yeah I know you’re bisexual.” I, of course, was expecting such an answer. I wonder if I would’ve had the guts to come out if I thought there was a risk of losing the friendship.
A few years later, my circle of friends had grown. I had my straight friends’ circle to whom I wasn’t out to, and another gay one. They mixed on some occasions, and some of my straight friends were suspicious of where all these new friends were sprouting from. One average day, I was having a Chinese meal with my best friend (the one who didn’t call) and another close friend. We were chatting and we had reached mar7alet chopsticks, meaning the stage of the meal when you’re so full you start poking food with the chop stick and pigging out on it, when suddenli my other friend blurts out “come on phoenix, I know you’re gay!” So I wore a smile on my face as I chewed on the cashew chicken. And that was the first time I had been pushed out of my closet. The next one was by far more interesting.
One bright sunni day, I brought my girlfriend back home and we were happili making out in my room. My mum knocked on the door. So I straightened up my clothes and opened up. To her surprise (and then mine), the expression on her face changed to outrage and she asked: “what’s wrong with your face?!” I wondered what the hell was wrong with it. Apparentli, my ex, while nibbling on it, had bit me a tad too hard, and my sensitive skin was dotted with red spots. My mother’s denial decided to dismiss it as allergies and she went away.
Two years later, I was on holiday with my parents. We took a train from Germani to France, and for some reason that I don’t recall, my dad managed to piss me off incredibli before boarding the train. To that, I reacted by buying a copy of FHM (For Him Magazine) with Neve Campbell on the cover. I sat on the moving train, looking at topless women with ample breasts and in the corner of my eye, I could see my father sitting cross-armed and frowning at the sight. The magazine had served its purpose. I kept flipping through the pages when my mother interrupted me and said, “mummi I have a question for you.” So I flip another page and go “hm?” And she retaliates with “who do you like better? Girls or boys?” The train kept moving as I felt that time had stopped for me. How was I supposed to dodge this one? The train ride was 6 hours long. I was sitting right next to her. I wished I could throw myself into a volcano rather than answer her question. But I had no choice. There was no exit. So I replied casualli “girls” and flipped another page. To which she replied “Yes I know. I just wanted to make sure.” And I tried to keep my face blank of an astonishment at her reaction. The rest of the train ride consisted of discussing the issue and outing my gay friend who was a favorite of hers among my posse. In addition to her recommending to keep my father from finding out since “3endo daghet3”.
Ever since, my mother has met almost all of my girlfriends. However, she still expects me to get married to a man and start a normal famili. We fight about this issue at times but I can’t blame her. I know she wants what’s best for her daughter considering the societi that surrounds us. To this day, I still cannot imagine what my life in the future could be like. I don’t want to leave the countri. I don’t want to part ways with the citi that made me who I am. I want to stay close to my famili, both immediate and extended. Sometimes I wonder if I should conform to the system in a way I find fit for me, as in get married to my gay friend and start a famili with him, since we share a common ideologi and a fondness for families. I want to keep on fighting as I have throughout my life. I have fought for my taste in clothes and funki hairstyles. I have marched the streets demanding freedom and equal rights, for myself and for others. If I am to act as a hypocrite in order to claim my natural rights, I will do so. But during this time, I will keep fighting the system so that one day, somebodi’s children will be able to grow up and lead their lives free of hypocrisi and oppression.
2 like that
3 He suffers from high blood pressure
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