QueerQissa.blog

The Space Between Knowing and Hiding

Well, I’ve always known.
Long before I ever heard the word gay, or knew what homosexual meant, I knew I was different. Pata tha, in a very subtle way. Nobody really asked a lot, and I didn’t address the question either. Bas tha!

And it was a constant thing. There were no questions about it! It was in the way I watched certain boys at school, those enticing elder cousins and young uncles (please don’t bring your guns out already — I just saw them! Kuch kiya nahi!) Furthermore, there were no qualms about it either. Not then, at least. Things became complex much later in life.

I can call myself both lucky and cursed — at the same time. It just depends on how you look at it. The fact that I didn’t look gay! I wasn’t effeminate, didn’t talk with a lisp, didn’t walk in a way that caught attention. I blended in easily with the boys. Played a sport or two. Swore. Laughed loudly. Passed. And in a world where difference was an invitation for cruelty, that passing was its own kind of protection.

So yeah, I was lucky. I hid! All these years, from everyone — perfectly. And I continue to hide.

On second thought, if I were a clear-cut, visible-from-a-distance gay guy, life would have brought another set of problems and ease. Labels would’ve found their way to stick to me. Name-calling would’ve happened, and garlands of insults would’ve been thrown at me. But coming out might have become rather unnecessary.

So, the habit of wearing a mask — which started in childhood — continues. I have found my comfort zone here, in the shadow. Not out of malice or manipulation — just easy survival. So, while I am untouched, unnoticed, and “safe,” I am alone.

That’s how I’ve lived most of my life.
And unfortunately, this is how it’s going to be.

The Space Between Knowing and Hiding – this line was suggested by ChatGPT!