“Yasssss”
“Slay mama”
“You look sick”
“Purrrrr”
That pretty much sums up the extent of my relationship with Shim until a few months ago. With Shim going to Syracuse and me Michigan, we naturally frequented the same East Village bars, bought ridiculously overpriced tickets to the same Halloween parties and shared a million and one mutual friends from Jersey, Westchester and Long Island. While we initially bonded over our love for fashion, I was drawn to something about Shim that transcended little black dresses and to-die-for accessories.
As an outsider looking in, Shim represented everything I hoped to be one day — self-assured, courageous, apologetically myself and, of course, fashionable AF. As a cis straight female, I am not claiming to know ANYTHING about Shim’s experience, nor will I ever. Yet, despite our vastly different backgrounds, I can identify with the powerful themes that underscore Shim’s story.
I’m no stranger to feeling like you don’t fit in or placing trust in friends who turned out to be anything but. I know the inner strength it takes to go against the grain and the even greater strength it takes to not give a flying fuck. I know what it’s like to feel like everybody is talking about you, and I know how embracing your differences loud and proud can sometimes bite you in the ass.
In talking to Shim, I feel seen in ways I didn’t anticipate. The on-the-surface differences that divide us suddenly feel a lot smaller, a testament to Shim’s raw vulnerability and the power of storytelling. So, I urge you to take a few minutes and read Shim’s story.
Shim’s journey is inspiring, and I hope it empowers you, too, to be your most authentic self, whatever that may look like.
Expect the expected.
No matter what you say or do, most people will treat you differently after you come out to them. When I first came out to my friends, I would always preface with, “I don't want anything to change between us. I am still the same person.” Looking back, I laugh at how naive I was. While I was the same person and always have been this person, I was showing everybody a side of me they never saw before — the real side. It is inevitable that things will change.
Be careful who you tell.
It is very hard for anyone to keep a secret, let alone a secret about someone else's sexuality or gender identity. Whether a family member or a great friend, whoever you decide to tell at first should be somebody you really trust. When you are ready to tell family or friends, be prepared for a big reaction — good, bad or just genuine shock. If you're not ready to disclose this information with your loved ones, I urge you to come out to a therapist. Although I didn’t publicly come out until my adult life, I’ve been unpacking my gender identity with a therapist since I was twelve.
As I got older, it was harder and harder for me to hide such a big piece of my life. At first, I was too uncomfortable talking about it with my guy friends, so I told a select few girls who I had close relationships with from high school. Not only were they extremely supportive, but they promised to keep my secret… and actually did.
In college, I opened up to a few more girls about this side of my identity. Unfortunately, telling more people increases the chances of people finding out. Next thing I knew, rumors about my gender identity circulated amongst “the scene.” Many people didn’t believe it and disregarded this as gossip.
Do not come out drunk in Vegas.
If you’re going to post about coming out on social media, DO NOT (!!!) do it when you are drunk in Vegas. Growing up in Westchester and being in a fraternity at Syracuse, I presented a certain way to fit into specific social groups and be accepted by the overall “scene.” While I had planned a carefully thought-out post, I (drunk) decided to rip off the bandaid on spring break.
Rather than explaining my love for women’s fashion and ongoing exploration of my gender identity, I posted pictures of me in a black jumpsuit with the caption, “I’m Shim.” I had no idea I posted this until I woke up the next day to millions of notifications and texts. Many had questions and didn’t understand the implications of my post. Others reached out to offer their love and support, something I am still very thankful for until this day. I can now laugh at the fact that I was so drunk I literally outed myself and had no clue.
Word travels fast.
If you’re going to make any public declaration of coming out, you need to accept the harsh reality that people will talk. It sucks, but that’s just the world we live in. I got more “sends” and overall engagement from my coming out post than all of my previous posts combined.
People do show up.
Once the news spreads, people are going to reach out. Especially ones you would never expect. It was overwhelming at first, but such a great feeling to feel supported and accepted by those beyond my inner circle. In the end, it was these moments that outweighed people talking shit.
Haters gonna hate.
Not everyone will support you. Many people I considered “friends” unfollowed me on social media, reached out to me less, stopped including me in activities they once would and spoke behind my back, disapproving of my decision. Understandably, I took all of this very personally. I was shocked and deeply hurt at what the people I considered close friends would do or say. Fast forward, and this turned out to be the biggest blessing in disguise. These betrayals allowed me to find out who my real friends were… and weren’t.
It takes time.
Before coming out, I was looked at as a more “masculine” person by those around me. Growing up, I was the kid who wore a football jersey to school everyday until seventh grade. This very much changed when I openly began to express my love for fashion and makeup. Going out in a button-down and jeans to a dress or skirt was a big adjustment for my friends to get used to. When I first started dressing more feminine, I could see and feel them looking at my outfit head to toe. It was hard to block out the noise at first, but as I adjusted and became more comfortable with my identity, my friends did, too.
You won’t always fit in where you think you might.
As someone who is both very masculine and feminine, it’s hard to feel like I fully belong among certain people or within communities. Growing up in an all-guy friend group and then joining a fraternity with all-guy friends, I am constantly looked at as being extremely “different.” It’s no fault of their own that my male friends can’t relate to this. At the same time, I also present myself as being very masculine. I’m oftentimes judged by those in the LGBTQ community for loving sports — you really can’t win.
Not being able to fit into the typical boxes of either social scene has been isolating at times, but it has also shaped me to become extremely independent and appreciative of the unique perspective and experiences I can bring to the table. At the end of the day, I love the person I have finally allowed the world to see, and being different from what people expect from you is awesome in it of itself, too.
Don't be afraid to try new things.
I was genuinely afraid of going to gay bars and clubs. Pre coming out, my entire social life revolved around the same groups and types of people. Going out to new spaces with a completely different community of people was a huge adjustment for me, both socially and personally. Eventually, I gained more confidence in myself and have even gone out alone to places I once feared. As long as I can be myself, I’m happy!
It’s worth it.
It wasn’t until my senior year of college that I revealed my truth to my larger social circle. I was exhausted from living a double life, and I knew I would have a support system no matter what. The weight I felt being lifted off my shoulders is a feeling words could never describe.
If you’re debating whether or not to come out, I encourage you to take the leap of of faith and do it! (If you’re ready, of course). There is nothing more freeing than living life as your true self, and everybody deserves that.
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