This is Kimberly's story.

This is Kimberly's story of self-realization, openness, and the challenges she faces in her everyday life.  Thanks for sharing, Kimberly. 

 
My coming out story is not as much about my coming out, as it is being “outed” from a very young age. To give you one idea, my father’s main nickname for me was “Butchie Boy”; this, due to my self-imposed dress code of boy-clothes, as well as my sports ability from a very young age. I found the name rather appealing due to it being male, though I called myself other boy-names such as “Christian” or “Shaun”. This was very upsetting to my mother, and I quickly learned to not speak about my desire to be a boy.

I clearly recall having crushes on girls in the first grade. By the fourth grade, I was parting my hair on the side, and at times secretly shaving my face. I also purchased a wide, boy’s ID bracelet and gave it to my first girlfriend.  By the time I wrote “Kim + Karen” on my school notebook in the fourth grade, my parents took me to a psychiatrist. Though the doctor found no issue with me, I learned to “go underground” on who I was. This “don’t ask, don’t tell” lifestyle is one I maintained for many years.

In junior high and high school, I went through a lot of socialization, including attending a very well known summer camp, centered on learning how to be “a lady.” The rest of the year however, I worked as a water-skier on a ski team at a local marine world. As such, I tended to enjoy the more high-risk activities, including blindfolded ramp jumping, mostly done by boys. Other girls generally opted to do far more graceful and beautiful type “ballet” on water-skis, which I did not care as much about.  Though I was not unhappy per se, largely due to my sports life, I certainly knew I was different.  For that reason, I began drinking a lot in high school, despite being popular with both sexes, and with my teachers.

As I prepared to enter college at the University of Texas, I grew apprehensive due to having to face sorority rush. The only thing I really looked forward to was being on the UT ski team. Though I gained a degree and stayed in the sorority during my four years at UT, I felt I was “failing” in my life. I knew what I was supposed to do – grow up, get married and have kids. Instead, I was an athlete with a reputation for breaking hearts of both sexes. My drinking increased, and by the time I graduated and got a good job, I became depressed.

To make a long story short, in 1986, I quit a very successful job in the advertising business and put myself in a 30-day treatment center. When I got out, I was sober, and determined to help others not face what I had. I began working for The Salvation Army. For five years I did very little but read my Bible, attend AA and face the truth about being gay.  I opted to tell the leadership of The Salvation Army that I was gay, and was moving on to a new role. I became the leader of “The Buddy Project”, which was part of an all-gay nonprofit group supporting those with AIDS.  I will never forget the kindness and love of The Salvation Army, as they prayed with me the day that I left.

I learned a lot in the next year, and found it vital to hold my head up and face the picketing and hatred that became part of what we all faced in the Oak Lawn area of Dallas. As many friends and associates died around me, I continually took action, attending the March on Washington, and other political events. Overall, the 1990’s were not an easy time. Shortly after leaving The Buddy Project, my father died of alcoholism, and I got cancer of the thyroid.  I will never forget the statement of the doctor who removed my cancer. He advised me to never lie, about anything.  I took that statement to heart.

I went on to become a freelance educator on the prevention of alcohol and drug addiction, and became fairly well known. I often spoke at large nonprofit groups and private universities, as I had a special emphasis on helping young people avoid addiction. To make another long story short, a major Christian-based nonprofit group ultimately learned I was gay, and cancelled the taping of several educational videos I was taping for youth. This aborted my income from a major client, and rather confused me on a core level. Basically, I was faced with either telling the truth, or losing my income. In my opinion, no one should be asked to face that dilemma. As a recovering alcoholic in particular, I opted to keep telling the truth, to both ensure my sobriety, and role model what I felt was right, yet it gave me the flag of caution.

In the long haul, I began working for an all-gay treatment center. Interestingly, the Christian program on the hall across from our wing opted to move out, saying that their technicians would not work with our patients. We also faced a few outward, hostile comments. I routinely wore a WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?) bracelet to remind me of who I was and what I stand for, just as my father told me to do.  This offered me comfort, and I managed to better hold on to who I am.

 I went on to attain a masters degree and a few licenses, of which I am proud, yet there are times where I wonder if that has been some form of justification of my mere existence. Either way, it does allow me to work on my own, which I find to be wise, considering that I am unable to gain same-sex health insurance benefits for my partner. Also, if I choose to be honest, my position will not go at risk per se, though I may lose some clients.

Yet what matters most to me is that I coach kids part-time, and I do fundamentally live with “don’t ask don’t tell” while working with young people. Lying to young children is no easy task, for me, as in my opinion, lying as a whole, is no way to live. Also, lying can result in loss of health, as dishonesty is not part of what my recovery philosophy is.

The bottom line is this; I support Equality Texas because I support honesty and integrity for all people. The right to work and the right to live with dignity is a part of all human rights. My name is Kimberly Allen, and writing this this is part of how I hope to support all people. I also want to thank those who have supported me. This includes my partner, my family, my church, and my straight allies. Also, The State of California, whose officials married me and my partner of 16 years.

I particularly appreciate Equality Texas, as I am a proud Texan. I am hopeful that over time, our mutual efforts will result in our state government better recognizing the significance of all Texans. All of us deserve liberty, and the pursuit of the American dream.

If you'd like to submit a story, please email Mason at mason@equalitytexas.org.