coming out of the closet

In many ways, the act of coming out is both of vital importance and utterly meaningless. I mean, it’s a metaphor and as such you never really complete it as an act. It’s just not possible. You have to come out to people in different, small, layered ways over and over again in your life. You never quite nail the explanation for who you are, because people were not meant to be explained in easy, pithy statements. They were meant to be slowly understood for who they are and respected for their unique qualities.

The world gets busy though, and so we reduce and stereotype and assume and the idea of “coming out”, of acknowledging who you are and who/what/how you love is something some of us have to do from time to time. And if you yourself haven’t done it before, and it is something you’re in fact wanting to do, it can be an all consuming thought and task. Particularly in the lead up.

So it is for me.

I have been meaning to come out to you for ages. I’ve let it stew in my mind and I’ve let it make me feel crappy and ashamed about my honesty with you. I mean, in one sense I’m out just fine enough. If you know me and you have dated me or are dating me or want to date me, then you’ll know that I am out and proud in whatever way I define it. So that’s not what I’m talking about here.

In another sense, I don’t really have to come out as Helmet Lady, as an alter-ego meme person thing. I mean, I kind of assumed if you were reading here, you understood it, yet people ask all the time, “what’s with the helmet blog?” It’s not a fetish. And although I sometimes play dress ups with helmets, I actually only own one of them. But I have been meaning to let you know that I am both entirely serious about helmets, and prepared to acknowledge that not everyone agrees with me. Sorry I haven’t explained it earlier.

Naturally, it goes without saying that I am open to information about helmet wearing, about helmet laws and about your thoughts on the matter. It’s just not my whole life, okay?

Like my other closets, this last one is probably totally unnecessary. I mean, you know it, don’t you, that I’m a feminist cyclist?

Might seem a bit strange, eh, but I am.

Anyway, more of that to come in the next few days, because here at the casa del lid, we are coming out.

Don’t worry, it won’t be half as scary for you as it is for me. It’s always the way.

(ps if you get all stressed out, this video should calm you right down.)


By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.


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