The drive back to my dorm was a blur of tears and self-doubt. My family’s dismissive reactions – my mom’s “label” comment, my dad’s “phase,” my sister’s cruel “no one cares” – echoed in my mind, making me question if I had made a terrible mistake. I just wanted to be seen, to be understood, but instead, I felt invalidated and more alone than ever.
Days turned into a strained silence, punctuated only by my mom’s infrequent, terse texts about mundane things, carefully avoiding the topic of my visit. My friends were supportive, but their “it gets better” sentiments felt hollow. I missed my family, the way things used to be, but the chasm felt too wide to bridge.
Then, a few weeks later, an unexpected email landed in my inbox. It was from my little brother, who rarely used email for anything beyond school assignments. The subject line was simply: “Hey.”
I opened it, bracing myself for another uncomfortable interaction, or perhaps a message coerced by my parents. But what I read surprised me.
“Hey,” it began. “Heard what happened. Mom and Dad are still being weird. But… I just wanted to say, I looked it up. Pansexual. And… it makes sense. More than what they were saying anyway.”
My breath hitched. My little brother.
“Also,” the email continued, “remember how I was always obsessed with ancient Egypt? Well, I found out something cool. There are a lot of ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses who don’t have one specific gender, or they change genders, or they’re attracted to everyone. Like Hapi, the god of the Nile flood, is often shown with both male and female features. And there are stories about gods falling in love with all kinds of beings. It’s… kinda like what you said.”
He paused, then added, “It made me think. If even gods can be like that, then why is it such a big deal for humans? It’s just… normal, right?”
The last line brought fresh tears to my eyes, but this time, they were tears of profound relief. My parents and sister had reacted with fear and dismissal, rooted in their own narrow worldview. But my quiet, unassuming little brother, immersed in his ancient civilizations, had found a way to understand, to normalize, to validate my identity through the very things he loved. He hadn’t just ‘looked it up’; he’d sought out historical and mythological parallels that resonated with him, silently challenging the prejudices he was exposed to at home.
His discomfort during my coming out wasn’t disapproval; it was likely the shock of unfamiliarity, quickly replaced by genuine curiosity and an open mind. My coming out hadn’t made things worse; it had, unknowingly, planted a seed of understanding in the most unexpected place, bridging a gap I hadn’t even realized existed, and reminding me that acceptance could bloom in the quietest corners.