I came out twice in a car. I was seventeen both times. The first time was after my mum picked me up from work. I mentioned to her that I “think I like girls,” but didn’t explicitly rule out men. I was testing the waters. Dipping my toe in. She didn’t say much. I’m not sure whether she pretended she didn’t hear it or was just processing. Either way, it didn’t affect her as much as the second time, when I came out as a lesbian. That’s when she realised that men would never be part of my love life.
It was in the morning. Mum was in a mood. I’d asked her the night before to drop me off at a friend’s house on her way to work, but she had forgotten by the morning. Or just didn’t want to, as she was running late. I heard her heels clicking on the kitchen tiles from my bedroom and checked the time. She was about to leave. I shouted out for her to wait for me, and we got into an argument.
The fight continued in the car. She began reversing out of the driveway before I’d put my seatbelt on while screaming about running late for work. Taking her hands off the wheel, she began shaking them at the sides of her head in rage. She started trying to get a rise out of me. Now that I was on the verge of being an adult, and had been making friends at a new job, and was coming to terms with my sexual orientation, I’d been spending more time away from home than ever before.
“Where do you go when you’re not at home? What are you, a prostitute or something?” Mum snarled.
The car came to a violent halt. We had arrived. I no longer felt anxious about coming out to her. I knew it would hurt her, but I no longer had empathy for her imminent grief over me losing the man-loving life she wanted. It was never going to happen. A wave of calm gently swallowed my body. A cord between us was cut. Her problems were no longer mine.
“No, no, I’m not a prostitute,” I said calmly, to her surprise. This was scarier than the yelling she expected. I slowly grabbed my bag, got out of the car, and leaned in, staring coldly into her eyes. “I’m a fucking lesbian.”
The texts and calls were endless. I spent a few days with friends while it settled. Mum told my entire family, including grandparents, aunties, uncles, and cousins. The heterosexual fantasy she had for my life was being nuked; she saw herself as my victim. That’s something parents of gay kids should seek therapy about, not unpack it with us.
It’s 16 years later, and our relationship has never been better. We’ve developed a level of mutual respect over time. We’ve done the work because we love each other.
Coming out in the car… (and I’ve been doing just fine)
Over time, I realised that coming out in the car is actually… a thing? This was confirmed when we polled our Instagram (@lesbian_herstory) followers. Out of all places on Earth, 28% of 250+ responders came out in a car.
It got me wondering why. Bea, almost 19, South Africa, also came out twice in a car; once to her mother when she was 12, as bisexual, and the other time as a lesbian when she was 17. “I think we were probably just talking about the community, and I piped in. I feel like I would’ve done it anywhere, but for some reason, the car was the right place.
“I also think that the car is the one place my mom and I spoke the most because we weren’t in separate rooms or something, and going up to her in her room to tell her I was bi and later lesbian would’ve probably made me feel like it was a huge ordeal even though I’ve always known my mom was chill about the LGBTQ community.”
Ana, 27, Eastern Europe, also came out twice in cars, both times as gay, but with different results. ”The first time, I was 24 and was talking to my aunt. She was telling me she had found out that her son was gay and she needed someone to talk to. The conversation led to me telling her, ‘Look, I’m gay too, I’m a doctor, I’m doing okay for myself, and he will do great too.’ It was a wholesome conversation. The car was the only place we could talk privately, so I guess it made sense for the coming out to happen there.
“The second time I came out in a car was when I was 26. I was in the car with my dad, and we were close to the end of a 3-hour car ride. During those 3 hours, he kept asking me stuff about my life … The conversation led to him asking me about my love life. I didn’t actually want to tell him yet; he’s extremely conservative and newly religious, so it didn’t feel safe. He kept pushing, the conversation became aggressive, he said that something must be wrong with me if I didn’t have a boyfriend at my age, and he hinted that he knew I was a lesbian.
“I decided to just rip the band-aid off and to confirm that yes, I like women and yes, I am in a relationship with a woman. He exploded, of course, and he still thinks I can “change.” I’m going no contact if he keeps insisting. In this case, the car didn’t feel like a safe space at all. I felt trapped and obligated to come out.”
Car rides facilitate conversation, for better or worse. A, 32, from Southern USA, came out to her mother in the car about 12 years ago, on their way back from Aldi. ”My mom had always said car rides were good for discussing important matters. I think she’s right. I think the lack of eye contact helps.”
Giuditta, 37, Italy, said she’s also heard that not having to look the other person in the eye in a car makes the one coming out feel more comfortable.
C, 40s, California, USA, agrees that cars and conversations go hand in hand. ”Having deep and important conversations in cars is a thing because you don’t have to look the other person in the eye and also because you’re both together travelling in the same direction, if that makes sense.”
Cars can represent the passage of time and serve as a self-imposed deadline. Erin, 34, Southwestern USA, is a late-blooming lesbian with Mormon parents and upbringing. ”I came out to my parents right before we got into the car because I had told myself it had to be before we left a location; before they left town. And then the conversation continued in the car…”
When you’re getting dropped off somewhere straight after the conversation, there’s no pressure to remain in each other’s presence if it gets awkward. Nysh, 21, Australia, came out to her mother on the way to school. “[I said it] as we were nearing the gates. I think I did it in the car because I knew I had an “escape” if something went wrong. It didn’t, by the way, she was awesome about it.”
Amy, UK, suggests that the transitory nature of cars, moving from one place to another, and how the conversation has an end point, probably factor into somebody’s choice in bringing up serious things in the car.
Paid car drivers probably know more than anybody that people love chatting in cars. Research from Zipcar, a UK-based car sharing service, found that “31% of people are “keener to get deep and honest” while in a car, 29% exchange life advice, and 16% say the car is the ideal place to share a big secret,” according to the Pioneer Press.
“76% of people have had a deep and meaningful conversation in a car, 73 minutes is the ideal time in a car for a good conversation, and 24% of people prefer to bring up an issue in a vehicle. There are various reasons why people tend to open up in a car. For example, there are few distractions, people know they’re going to be in the car for a set amount of time with nowhere else to go, and not having to look the other person in the eye helps put some people at ease.”
Cars can represent safety, liberation or a trap to lesbians. Lesbians sometimes come out in cars because it feels most comfortable to us. Sometimes we come out in cars even though we’re not ready yet because we’re cornered by someone who wants to know. Cars can represent endings, beginnings, and deadlines. Sometimes it’s as simple as being stuck with someone else for a moment and seizing the opportunity while it’s available. People are constantly moving. Sitting in cars can make us reflect. Coming out in cars makes sense.
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