To celebrate Siblings Day, an ambassador from Just Like Us talks about their coming out
BY KAT IVANKOVIC
“So, do you like any boys at school?” That question always pierced a deep fear through my body, making me freeze up and desperate to change the subject.
When I was 13, it felt like I’d be asked this all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it made everyone feel put on the spot, but for me, it was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
If I say no, I am “boring” and sure to be lying: “Come on, you’ve got to like someone – what about [insert generic boy name here] or [another generic boy name here]?”
But if I say yes, I am definitely lying, because I didn’t like any boys. Ever.
So, when my sister asked me this question on a family holiday, naturally I wanted the ground to swallow me up. We were in Malaysia, I was 13 and she was 16. We were sharing a hotel bed and about to go to sleep when she threw the question through the dark, humid air. It landed square and heavy on my chest and I didn’t know what to do.
I knew she was just making conversation and I could just say no, but a part of me felt panicky like I was in the classroom. I thought about it for probably too long and then breathed out: “No.”
She said “OK”, which I knew she probably would. I relaxed slightly, the threat neutralised, we were at an impasse. To wipe off the remaining attention stuck to me, I asked her if she liked any boys at school. She thought for a second and then repeated my answer. No, she didn’t.
Though our answers were the same, I was envious. Even though she didn’t like any boys at the time, Anna was still normal. More normal than I was. I sat in the discomfort of knowing I was different for a while until I thought: I could tell her.
The idea flicked on in my head like a light switch in the dark room, but quickly fizzled out when I thought of what she might say.
No one at our school was out, none of her friends were gay. I tried to recall times she had spoken about gay people and if she was OK with them or not. It was hard to tell. She had mentioned a girl from her year who was kicked out of home for being a lesbian. What did she think about that? Did she mention it in the car on the way to school because she felt sorry for her and thought it was wrong? Or because it was just gossip? I didn’t know, and I realised I wouldn’t know what she thought until I said it.
A weight was building on my chest as I lay in the dark. I did not look at her. The words came out before I could think about it anymore.
I said I did like someone. I liked a girl.
The air was still, until she said: “Oh, okay.” Now what? I waited.
A brief conversation followed – she asked me about how I felt. I said that I liked a girl but wasn’t sure how I felt about boys. That the way I felt about this girl was probably how girls feel about boys.
There was a pause until the tension closed out with another: “Oh, OK.”
She asked me pretty neutral questions about the girl I liked, and acknowledged things might be hard for me and I agreed. I asked her to keep it a secret for now, which resulted in another: “OK.”
I can’t recall my sister outwardly saying: “I’m here for you, you have nothing to be ashamed of, you’re my sister I’ll always support you, I am so proud of you.” That’s just not who she is. We didn’t cry and hug each other. We just talked and went to bed.
But what was a big deal was that it wasn’t a big deal. The “I’ll always support you and love you” went without saying. The rest of the holiday was great.
I love my sister very much, I’m going to be a bridesmaid at her wedding next year. I now know that being different, being myself, will never be a big deal to her. So, when I asked if I could wear a suit, she simply said as she always has done: “Oh, OK.”
Kat is an ambassador for Just Like Us, the LGBT+ young people’s charity. Just Like Us’ LGBT+ Guide for parents, carers and wider family members is out now.
DIVA magazine celebrates 31 years in print in 2025. If you like what we do, then get behind LGBTQIA media and keep us going for another generation. Your support is invaluable.