Stories are written by people who don’t necessarily work or study in fields related to sexology. They convey emotions, perceptions, and subjective perspectives. Opinions voiced in the stories are those of their authors, and in no way represent the position of Les 3 sex*.

Ce témoignage est aussi disponible en français [➦].

Translated by Gabrielle Baillargeon-Michaud.

I don’t think I’m mistaken in stating that non-heterosexuality is increasingly accepted among Quebec’s population. Alongside organizations actively fighting homophobia, I’ve observed Quebec TV shows progressively including characters of diverse sexual orientations, who are seamlessly integrated without being the focal point of the storylines. Notable examples include characters like Magalie and Olivier in Nouvelle Adresse, Flavie in Mémoires vives, or various women in Unité 9.

However, after repeatedly hearing comments like, “It’s obvious that this person is gay. I can’t wait for them to come out!” about someone who outwardly identifies as heterosexual, I began to question our progress. Is the acceptance of homosexuality as widespread as we assume? Despite society often confusing gender expression with sexual orientation, there might be some validity to these perceptions. But will a coming-out really ever occur?

Having known people who were still living their homosexuality in the shadows, the answer to that question seems to be: not necessarily. While sexual orientation isn’t a choice, some may opt not to reveal theirs. I suspect for them, the idea of living openly as homosexual seems more daunting than indefinitely suppressing their true identity.

As a heterosexual who is open-minded but somewhat naive about the identity challenges the LGBTQIA (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, asexual) community faces, I struggled to understand why some denied their sexuality for so long. I truly believed that homosexuality was broadly accepted today.

I can hear “That’s a good one" coming from the gay village.

Therefore, as someone who might also be perceived as “naive with good intentions,” I delved into these issues by listening to testimonies from Arthur, Francis, Raphaëlle, and Mathilde, young adults in the LGBTQIA community. I’ve altered some names for privacy. My goal was to understand the obstacles to full acceptance, consulting organizations like Gris and Gai Écoute in the process.

The initial question I explored might seem trivial, but it felt essential: why is it more challenging for a homosexual or bisexual person to be open about their sexuality compared to a heterosexual individual?

“We live in a society that prepares individuals for heterosexuality. Therefore, when the opposite occurs, it can be a shock, and the individual might feel pressured to conform,” explains Marie Houzeau, director of Le Gris.

For Francis and Arthur, both 22, and Raphaëlle, 24, homosexuality has felt like a burdensome secret they’ve attempted to conceal by adhering to heteronormative expectations as long as possible.

“It’s silly, but when I first genuinely felt attracted to guys, I hoped it was temporary,” shares Francis, who was still dating girls just four years ago.

Among the barriers to acceptance, Mireille Saint-Pierre, service coordinator at Gai Écoute, highlights religion: “Certain religious doctrines strictly forbid homosexuality, making self-acceptance extremely difficult for those raised with such beliefs.” Raphaëlle, whose father is devoutly Christian, confirms this: “At home, discussing sexuality was forbidden, and it seemed illogical to me to be attracted to girls, having been taught that humans are meant solely for reproduction.”

Even for Arthur, who didn’t grow up in a Christian family, abandoning the notion of a traditional family was a significant hurdle to his self-acceptance. “When I first visited my boyfriend’s place, I was deeply in love, but nearly left. I thought I didn’t want this; I wanted a wife and kids,” admits Arthur, who realized he was gay around 10 years of age but didn’t accept it until much later.

While denial is common in the journey to accepting one’s orientation, I’ve noted that each coming out is unique. Mathilde, 25, experienced a smoother coming out, though not without confronting heteronormative biases: “For me, it wasn’t about repression; I simply hadn’t considered I could be a lesbian. I dated men without much thought, never fully satisfied, until at 22, a woman kissed me, and I realized I might actually prefer women.”

“Everyone is presumed heterosexual until proven otherwise,” adds Marie Houzeau. “When someone comes out, it’s not about assigning a new label of homosexual; it’s about removing the label of heterosexual.”

That concept of a “heterosexual label” was new to me. Assuming someone to be heterosexual until proven otherwise is now a notion I find deeply troubling. And it leads me to wonder: is the act of coming out meant to justify a break from the norm?

For Raphaëlle, who feels obligated to clarify her homosexuality at every family gathering, that seems to be the case: “I despise having to come out. But not everyone in my family knows I’m into girls, so if I don’t, it feels like I’m lying by omission.”

Occasionally, however, people can discern someone’s orientation and accept it before they themselves do. This was true for Arthur: “My friends orchestrated my coming out. They arranged a ‘date,’ telling me they had someone for me to meet, and naive me thought that at best, this girl would become a good friend, since I secretly already knew I liked men. They were actually introducing me to a guy. We’ve been dating for four years now.”

Francis also experienced acceptance from his social circle before his own coming out: “When I told my dad, I realized he already knew, as he had been seeing a therapist to better accept my homosexuality. That was a huge relief.”

The proactive acceptance that the social circles of my interviewees engaged in before they even came out is one of the most uplifting findings of my research.

Beyond the discomfort of wrongly wearing a heterosexual label, being immediately identified as homosexual upon coming out has been challenging for some of my respondents: “I didn’t want to be stereotyped as the typical gay, the token gay. Even now, it bothers me when people pigeonhole me into what I’m not. Girls come up to me to talk about their hair, thinking it’ll interest me because I’m gay, but I really don’t care about their hair,” clarifies Francis.

For Arthur, the fear of being compared was so intense that he changed his academic path: “Before coming out, I was in a theatre program at CEGEP. There were many very open gays in my cohort, and it freaked me out to see people so comfortable with themselves. I didn’t want to be like that, so I left the program for architecture.”

Raphaëlle admits she too was long tormented by this fear, worried about being labelled the token lesbian of any group.

Another question arises: “Are there gender differences in accepting homosexuality?”

“Although the differences aren’t sharply defined, the process of coming out can vary greatly,” explains Mireille Saint-Pierre. “For example, women’s sexuality is often taken less seriously; therefore, their coming-out might take longer. Conversely, men may experience more direct and violent homophobia.” Indeed, Saint-Pierre notes that while affection between women is more socially accepted, and even fetishized, the lesbian community often remains more invisible. She explains that society’s tendency to minimize women’s sexuality leads to their remaining in the shadows: “Statistically, women are less likely to come out in the workplace, especially to their superiors, because they fear double discrimination.”

From these testimonies, I understand that despite Quebec’s perceived openness, it is our societal structures that perpetuate daily acts of homophobia. These are minor acts that seem innocuous, so ingrained in our subconscious that we no longer even notice them, blending seamlessly into heteronormativity from birth.

These insights have led me to broader questions. Could the social construction of gender be a root cause of homophobia? For instance, could assigning specific traits to men and women over centuries have limited our ability to accept various fluidities in orientations, personalities, clothing choices, social choices, and more?

Perhaps, then, the act of coming out will truly become unnecessary when examples and portrayals of family and romantic situations shown from childhood can naturally and unquestioningly be non-heterosexual and perhaps even non-binary.