Visibility is Life

By Elena Joy Thurston

I was 37 when I came out to myself.  I had been married for 17 years.  We had four children.  I was Mormon.  

I had never known a lesbian except in passing.  Correction: I probably knew several lesbians but because of my faith framework, I’m sure they knew I wasn’t a safe person to come out to.  I didn’t know what clothes lesbians wore, the vocabulary they used, where they hung out, and how they did…. anything.

But I knew, through a series of harrowing events, that I was, in fact, very much not attracted to men and very much attracted to women.  I was a lesbian.  I kept saying that statement over and over again to anyone who would listen.  “Guys, I’m gay.  I know!!  I’m shocked too, but it’s true.  I’m a lesbian.  Can you believe it?!”  

Unfortunately, the only people in my world were Mormon.  And that statement didn’t go over very well.  They tried hard, those friends I’d had for so long. They kept inviting me to lunch and involving me in small talk.  But as the divorce finalized and I started wearing rainbows, the invites faded away.  

I found myself very much alone and frankly, lonely.  I was used to neighbors who stopped by with their latest bread recipe, used to neighborhood kids coming to my house for cub scouts and long chats with their moms in the driveway.  I was used to neighborhood walks and Diet Coke runs to the nearest Circle K.  In the space of three months, it was gone.

It was the loudest silence I’ve ever heard.  

I’ll never forget the night, alone in my new rental, that visibility changed my life.  The kids were at their dad’s and the new house felt exhilarating, like the freedom I’d been too scared to hope for and simultaneously, like the utter terror of the unknown.  No friends = no distractions from the reality of my life.  I decided to sit down and try to figure out how to make some new friends.  

Since the last time I’d had to do that was high school, I ended up approaching it the same way.  Do some research, figure out the culture so that I could fit in and be deemed cool enough to hang out with.  Luckily, instead of hanging out at the local mall, I had a much more portable research device.  Instagram.

One hashtag later, #lesbianlove, my heart fell into my stomach.  I felt exactly like I had during my first kiss with a woman.  My vision narrowed, the blood was rushing in my ears, my palms were sweaty, and I was out of breath.  There on the iPhone screen in front of me, was a photo of two women getting married.  

And they were happy.  So incredibly over the moon happy.  You could see the two of them just glowing.  And the people crowded around them, the people who loved and supported them, were just as happy!!  I couldn’t believe it!  

I had been taught my entire life that “wickedness never was happiness.” That I needed to “avoid the very appearance of evil.”  I had spent the last year navigating my coming out process and I had assumed that being out meant that I would be isolated.  I would be alone.  I would be longing for all of those straight experiences that weren’t mine because I’d “chosen” to follow this path.  

But those brides!!  They were happy!! Is that even real??

The next post came from The Lesbian Review.  I have no idea what the post said, all I remember is that I was shocked.  There are lesbian books?  Like enough lesbian books that there’s a whole company that just reviews them?  What is this reality?  

I spent the next hour on their website which led me down rabbit hole after rabbit hole.  I gobbled up sample chapters and read stories of women from all walks of life, with all different gender identities, from all different cultures and religions. All of them very much lesbians.

And I realized how very not alone I am.  

I put my phone down because I realized that no more research was needed.  The beauty of the lesbian community is that the number one value is authenticity.  We’ve all worked incredibly hard to align with our true selves and no one is asking for anything other than that.  The cost of belonging was just one thing: be who you really are.

Four years later, I am the Executive Director of an LGBTQ+ nonprofit.  The mission of the Pride and Joy Foundation is to reduce the rate of suicide and homelessness in our community.  The biggest way we do this is by increasing visibility; whether it is through our college workshops, our family connection groups, our corporate inclusion trainings, or now, through our upcoming LGBTQ+ Family and Influencer Summit.  

We are bringing together queer families and business leaders from all over the world to enjoy a weekend of connection and support.  Whether they are straight parents needing to see successful LGBTQ+ adults, or queer parents trying to navigate the world of “Mom+Dad” parenting, or that young person trying to figure out how to come out at work while not damaging their career, there is a place at our Summit for all of them.  

There is a place at this Summit for them to be visible, to themselves and to everyone that needs them.  Because I need them.  We all need them.

Visibility is Life.