19 May 2011

Coming Out: Part Two

After what had happened between Katy and I on the night of September 11th, our friendship turned into a capital-R Relationship. We were dating; we were together. That was more than clear enough.

And as long as we were in Chicago, it wasn’t such a big deal to me if we were out; nearly everyone I knew in Chicago, save for Katy, was through my now ex-husband. So, being out as gay was not that hard …

And through the circles I knew from Katy, again, it wasn’t such a big deal. Her friends were not even slightly surprised that she and I were more than friends. Even her family was not all that amazed; one Sunday late in September she insisted I go with her to see her parents up in Northbrook so we headed out to the ‘burbs and had dinner and they were so nice … I assumed that they thought I was ‘just’ a friend until almost the time we left and her mom made a comment about how we probably wanted to be alone … and I realized that she knew …

We were both nerds and even if we did go out dancing a couple of times, we mostly stayed in, watched movies, cooked, read, talked and made out … the last quite a lot. For me, I was more sexually fulfilled than I ever had been before in my life; I was actually with someone I was crazy about and I was actually having the kind of sex I had imagined ….

Anyway, it was good. And it was a good time to have good things happen; outside, the world was looking pretty grim. Every day, it seemed like another huge terrorist strike would happen or there’d be a lynch mob looking for Muslims or a war would start …

I didn’t know. When I talked to my family, I could tell they were nervous. The FBI had swung by and taken my brother in for questioning; he hadn’t done anything but he was enrolled in flying classes at Bristow Field and he was born in Damascus and he was an Arab Muslim and some of the 9/11 hijackers had visited there. One of them even shared a surname with him. So he was taken in for questioning, days of it … he was lucky as anyone who knows him – or knew him then – can attest. Meet him and you know he’s not a secret terrorist … he just liked airplanes, a lot. (When I first heard of trainspotters, the first thing I thought of was him.) His pilot dreams of course ended then but …

Anyway, it was good then to be with Katy and have her hold me when I was scared, have her lie with me all night … and she said her lease was up for renewal end of October; I asked her to move in …

Life could have been worse.

Ever since I’d told them that Hisham and I were through, my mother had been urging me to come back to Georgia. And truth be told, before things with Katy changed, I was mentally preparing to move home. Why stay in Chicago for nothing?

As it was, I did feel a need to go back down south; I’d been planning on hopping a cheap flight when That Day happened … but then everything else went south …

I did not want to fly anywhere; especially after what had happened with Amr, I was petrified of getting on a plane (if they’d even let me on); Guantanamo wasn’t yet a watchword but I already had visions of disappearing into some dark cell (and in case you don’t remember, there were reports and rumors of people being arrested and taken away for being Muslim in those days).

I told Katy that I wanted to go but I was scared … “Well why don’t you drive?” she said.

Door to door it’s 750 miles … and that’s a long time alone in a car.

Well I can come with you.

Really?

Yes, if you like …

So, she put in to take a few days off work and we set off together in my little car on a bright October morning. Somewhere in Indiana, I remember, I checked the radio news; war had begun, planes were winging towards Afghanistan. I was numb.

And in case you wonder, I was not wearing hijab that day; I was too scared for one thing, nightmare image of being stopped in some remote place in southern Indiana getting gas while big guys howled for my blood, but I felt naked without it; so I wore a yellow baseball cap.

“Call me Amy,” I’d told Katy, asked her to use her credit card if we needed to. I didn’t want to use my cursed name.

The roads were strangely empty then; I’ve never before or since seen highways so empty and we flew across Indiana, Kentucky, into Tennessee, singing songs along with the radio, trying to catch the hourly news, and chattering, the miles flying by. Darkness falling as we enter Georgia …

I nervously explain to Katy how we need to be on the downlow;

She laughs, of course, no big deal …

You’re not insulted? I wonder, if I deny you?

Just not three times before the cock crows.

What’s that mean? I ask

Well, maybe we can have some time alone?

Yeah, I say, I’d like that, and visions of having her in my old room dance gleefully through my mind.

We reach the Atlanta suburbs, wander down the vast freeways, and, when time is almost at an end, I turn onto my parents street.

We arrive and I introduce, mom, dad, this is my friend Katy, and reverse. Amr’s lounging on the couch listlessly watching cartoons; I learn that this is what he’s done for hours on hours every day since all his dreams crashed. Mom greets Katy warmly, Dad, takes our bags ..

I show Katy my room; we’ll both sleep there if it’s OK with her? I wink so no one else can see me … she nods, I guess that’s fine …

Talking, talking, we sit around going over everything that’s happened, comparing notes on The Situation. My uncle’s store got vandalized right after the event; all the signs were in Arabic and someone had thrown a rock through the window, urinated all over the place … someone else had spray painted his shop. He’d taken down all the signs and ordered new, roman alphabet ones.

There was grafitti on a mosque, threatening calls to different people, screaming obscenities out of passing cars …. Old Mr. Singh down on the corner is scared to go into his front lawn …
Mom serves us tea, asks Katy about her life, how she knows me, what shes does for a living, what and where she studied, does she have a boy friend. Katy stammers, yes, I do have someone who’s wonderful …

My mom asks if marriage is planned.

Who knows, Katy tells her, it hasn’t been that long but we will see.

And me? Am I ready to start looking again?

No, I shake my head, not yet.

Maybe you should try dating, my mother suggests. Now that you are divorced, it is not so wrong.

Maybe, I say, maybe I’ll be ready.

Mom tells me I need to remember to see Rania; I know, I say, and get up and call her.

I’m back in town I say and she says she will be over as soon as she gets baby Abed to sleep … we should meet at Waffle House? So we don’t keep everyone up?

Katy says that she’s exhausted, does she mind if she begs off?

I show her to bed … when no one is looking we have a small kiss

“See you later,” I smile and so does she …

And I go off to Waffle House … one of only 8,000 locations in this city, but I know which one Rania means without thinking, ‘our’ Waffle House, home of all night talk sessions of the Muslim Sisterhood of West Gwinnett, home of studying for exams, flourescent lights, lousy food, the only place that’s open all night around here …

I park my Illinois tagged car, suddenly feeling like a stranger in my own place, walk in and see a new set of faces hunched over their greasy food or drink, a whole new generation I guess. Even the staff is different. Time has passed, I realize.

I sit down, Rania bounces in in a bit …

Rania, whom I’ve known since my first memory, closer to me than my sisters, Rania who figures in so many things. Can we be as close as we used to be? What if I tell her? Will she hate me?

And as she sits, she asks, “Where’s uh Katy?”

“She was tired,” I explain, “so she stayed at the house.”

“Too bad; I’ve been wanting to meet her.”

“Well, maybe tomorrow, yeah?”

And we launch into what’s happening. Rania concerned how I’m doing, what’s up with Hisham? Curse him, I always knew he was a rat … her dad, mine, business is of course down for both of them, hopefully just because it is for everyone. She passed a gas station on 29 where they were selling 67 cents a gallon … unbelievable. And now a war. Her Samir is wondering if they’ll have to leave the country …

“Well, we can always try and pass,” I say.

“As white?”

“Yeah.”

“Easier for you,” she laughs. I have to agree.

More chatter and finally I come around to saying:

“Rania, there’s something that I think you need to know about me …”

“That you’re gay?” she says in an offhand way.

My jaw must have dropped open …

“Yes, how did you know?”

She laughs.

“It’s me Amina, I’ve always known. And better than you, huh?”

I’m stunned. Barely able to nod.

“Katy’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

I nod. “How’d you know?”

“Do you ever listen to yourself?” she’s grinning and imitates my voice. “’Katy is so cool, she’s sooo pretty and sooo smart and she knows Old English and she’s got such pretty hair.’ “

“I sound like that?”

“Yeah.”

“That obvious huh? But …”

“’Mina! No buts … as long as I can remember you’ve always been like that about someone. Ms. Burton, Hind, Lori, on and on … ‘oh isn’t she soo beautiful’ … and never once about a guy …”

“Hisham?” I counter.

“No, you were all ‘he’s smart and he’s funny and he’s educated’, but not once about him being cute!”

“Really?” I’m shocked.

“Nope, never about a guy. Remember when we used to sit here and Nour or me or Khadija would say something about a guy?”

“Yeah, you were all horndogs!”

“Uh huh, and you never joined in and would change the subject.”

“So you knew all this time, huh?”

“Not knew, suspected is more like it. But I can follow your eyes as easily as anyone and …”

“So why didn’t anybody tell me?”

“What, ‘hey Amina, you’re a fag!’, like that you mean? What would you do?”

“Start reading Quran?”

“Yup. Heck, I am pretty sure I straight up asked you a bunch of times and every time you changed the subject or got self righteous.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.”

“So you’ve been ready for me to come out, right? For how long?”

“Maybe since we met Hind.”

“Ten years. Damn. You knew. I didn’t. Damn.”

She says nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would that have done? I figured you knew you were gay, but were just scared.”

“yeah, more or less.”

“So, you’re still Muslim, right?”

“Well yeah,” I say. “but I’m a sinner now.”

“So what do y’all,” she finally looks embarassed, “you know, what do y’all like do?”

“What?”

“I mean, you and Katy …”

“You’re asking me about lesbian sex?”

“Yeh. Is it like different?”

“I guess,” I shrug. “I mean it’s way better than with Hisham, that;s for sure. But maybe that’s just because, well I’m gay, right?”

“yeah.”

“So does this change stuff between us?” I ask.

“No, I knew, idiot! I’m just glad you finally figured out too …”

And that was how I first came out to the first person in my family; no shock, no dismay … just an ‘of course’. And Rania and I stayed thick as thieves even if she was a happily married, covered, conservative Muslim housewife and I was … well, me.

She met Katy the next day; they got along famously … and we kept it our secret for a long time … eventually I did move back to Atlanta and came out to my parents but that, as the poet says, is another story.

15 comments:

Belle said...

Hi Amina,

I've been trying to get in touch for some time but your comments feature wasn't working. I'm a producer from Radio Netherlands Worldwide. Can you please email me at Belinda.Lopez@rnw.nl?

Look forward to hearing from you.

Thanks,
Belinda

Sahand Sahebdivani said...

Very touching!

syrie reis 2011 said...

You keep amazing me! Your courage! Since the start of the blog I've collected the entries. Great stuff. But please be careful.

Grazia said...

You have such a nice way to tell stories, can't get enough of reading your entries. Take care, G.

Ranoush said...

Amina could you also send your private e-mail address and or phone number (if safe) to British Foreign News producer Sarah Corp (urgently).
SARAH.CORP@ITN.CO.UK

nasim said...

Amina.. can't seem to find your email!

Bert Hogervorst said...

Can not wait until your book comes out! Hope you keep safe!

oria said...

Not enough details about your sex life.

:(

Erika said...

My busy life does not permit me to read blog posts all the way through, but this one kept me rapt from start to finish. incredible. Please continue the story soon! I need to know what happened to you and Katy!

Omar said...

@ nasim, ditto, can't seem to find Amina's email.
What is is about you? The way you write, the things you've experienced, and the outcome via this blog. Somehow it seems super human..

Amina A. said...

Try the facebook fan page:)

Omar said...

I did. Still stumped. Help appreciated.

Wessel said...

So cool :)

Leoparddrengen said...

Fascinating story, and very well written. Thank you for sharing!

Anonymous said...

would love to know more about parent reaction
your wrting style is so smooth. write more about your personal life. I am married to a syrian and would love to know more about the culture

Post a Comment