While conversing over eggs and a croissant with a prospective client about our respective kids and spouses (his wife, my partner), in the back of my mind I note an anomaly. Later that evening, I realize that the simple, natural human interaction I had earlier that day still feels so foreign, unexpected, unreal. I also note that, in the midst of talking with the prospect, I felt a mix of on one hand, gratitude for his easy acceptance, and on the other hand, exasperation (with myself? society?) that my colleague’s acceptance should be something for which I feel gratitude.

When I first came out, many lesbians and gay men did not disclose personal details, because much of society rejected the ultimate detail, our sexual orientation. Even if I disclosed that I was gay, I revealed little else about my life to most straight colleagues, to avoid an awkward or unpleasant reaction.

That reticence about being more open stifled my ability to engage fully with colleagues and clients or to develop business relationships. I felt like the “other,” not belonging, and wondered whether revealing personal facts would incline a prospect not to build a relationship with me. The energy I spent worrying about how much I dared disclose detracted from the focus I could have placed on thinking strategically about how I could meet the needs of the prospect or his business.

My reticence derived in part from a sense of self-preservation at a time when an employer could terminate an employee based on his sexual orientation. While I was innately reserved, I doubt I would have exercised such caution had I not felt the need to hide so fundamental a part of myself.

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