For many Chicagoans Market Days is the biggest event of the year. It brings together many wonderful features of what it means to be a Midwesterner. A sense of belonging, block parties, homegrown artists, entrepreneurs and restaurateurs come together to celebrate our town.
I know precisely the moment I became gay. Of course, it didn’t happen exactly that fast, but at a precise moment, things inside my head shifted from believing I was straight to know I am gay.
This is no ordinary coming out story. I was 21 and confused I started with a leading financial MNC in Mumbai, India. I was physically attracted to someone but that someone was a man and not a woman.
I was 17 when I came out to my parents. I did it separately, even though they were still married at the time. I was at a friend’s house – his mom is a lesbian woman, and we had built a very unique relationship.
When I was a little boy, maybe 3. I felt the need to do and be things that were female oriented. I wanted long hair so I’d wear a towel on my head and wave my head around to make my hair ” blow in the wind”. My family didn’t stop me and I think that was great. At Halloween I wanted to be a girl.
It wasn’t until I was in my early fifties that I finally worked out that I was agender and asexual. Figuring out that I was asexual was the easier part of the equation. That really only required coming across knowledge of the orientation. But it still took me 45 years to get to that point, because it took me 45 years before I heard of asexuality.
I have begun to shed my femininity again. It always begins with my hair. The act of cutting my own hair comes too easily — the scissors are right there, sharp and waiting. It took me months to return to this point. I told myself I’d get my hair cut by a professional at an actual salon (my mom’s preference, for sure) once I moved back to California for the summer, and that I’d just have to deal with the shoulder length curls — my definition of long hair — until then.