Smoke and Mirrors

I have never had to sit my parents down and say to them “Mum, Dad… I’m heterosexual.” I have never had to explain my sex life or my preferences of one the most intimate of human acts to friends and family, or prove that it is not ‘just a phase’. It baffles me that homosexuality is something that must be confessed to and justified.

Two years ago when travelling through Africa, I met an Israeli guy called Yotam and girl called Yael who were camping through Ethiopia, Tanzania, Mozambique and beyond. Carrying one tent and all their supplies on their backs, they trekked, bussed and climbed through the bustling dirt roads, cliff-lined coasts and rocky mountains of their journey. Every traveller I had met in Africa had a purpose for their adventure – whether it be to sit with the gorillas in the Ugandan jungle, swim with the whale shark of Mozambique, or climb Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. Not until two years on, when my conversation with Yotam has now moved from the maze-like paths of a village in Mozambique, to a digital Skype call over our laptops, did I realise that there were some travellers with destinations that had no geographical coordinates.

“When I travelled to Africa, I had a goal to reinvent myself – to find myself and to be complete with who I am. I went to discover if I’m gay or if I’m straight, And if I’m gay, the plan was then to come out and to admit it and come back as a different person.”

‘Coming out’ seems to have its own journey. Whilst the rest of us are following the norms of boy meets girl, others are having to keep up a façade, or strain their eyes to see through the smoke to who they are, and why they don’t fit with the majority.

Over this Skype call that stretches our voices 14,000 kilometres from a small town in Northern Israel to Sydney, Yotam explains the wrestling of his hazy sexuality. Taunts at school for ‘being gay’ hadn’t made sense when sexuality wasn’t of interest. As life progressed, boys had seemed less threatening, less fickle, and easier to approach. But being dragged into a group of experimental acquaintances, his experiences with homosexuality were drenched in guilt. “The first time when I did it, I felt really bad… like I have to take a shower and I have to wash everything all over me – I was disgusted by myself.”

But with time the dates became more regular, and his life more disjointed between the two roles he would play. “Around my parents and my close friends I had to hide my real me … It was very… it wasn’t true. And to my mother if I went out on Friday and she used to ask me ‘Where are you going?’ And I would put up some lies and… it was very… uncomfortable - lying to my mother. I felt like I had to be ashamed of what I’m doing. And when I met those strangers it wasn’t really me either because it was just like sexual content. There was nothing else.”

The trip through Africa became an escape from one world to define who he would be when he returned. “We met some Israeli guys and they ask me ‘How is it to share a tent with a girl?’ and I said ‘Well it’s like sharing a tent with a guy.’ I didn’t really [think] about what’s behind the meaning of sharing a tent with a girl or what can happen, because it was never there …”

Then comes this need for admission. This ‘confession’ that has to be made not only personally, but to friends and family – the explanation having to be repeated over and over. There is a need to justify sexuality to the people whose opinion matters the most – but who should care the least.

“I look at myself now, and looking back and it’s two different personalities … I felt trapped in the world in which people think I’m straight and I have to act and behave along those behavioural codes.

And trapped in the world in which I’m meeting some complete stranger just to have sex and then go away and have to deal with this in the other world … I didn’t choose it... It’s like a bomb that fell on
me … Nobody would choose this. No body wants to be a minority … But I’m done justifying myself.

I have a boyfriend who I love deeply and it’s good for me. Because right now, when it’s out there and I feel comfortable having my boyfriend in my house - at my parents house next to the table… it’s…
it’s pure joy.”