His best friend wasn't as accepting as he'd hoped, but our student blogger is still glad he came out as gay.  The word "gay" is tossed around casually in sixth form, used to describe anything negative. It's a word that I've heard many times in the classroom.  "Oh, that's gay," one boy said, as he looked down at his paper and saw how much work he had to do.  "You take it up the bum," said one student to another, who took an A-level subject that he regarded as inferior. In neither instance was the immature language challenged.  Attending an all-boys school was partly responsible. Whenever I heard the misuse of the word, I felt myself physically tremble, staring down at my desk and wondering if anyone knew about me.  Only two people in the year group were openly gay at the time. The idea of coming out scared me. If I'd raised my voice when my classmates used "gay" as an insult, there would certainly have been a palpable awkwardness.  I chose to come out because I didn't want to feel fear again. And who knows, I thought, maybe if my classmates knew there was a gay person in the room, they'd be more careful with their language.  I brought it up in a casual conversation with my best friend – the one person with whom I felt confident to share. I saw no need to make a big announcement – left-handed people don't announce their pen-writing preferences.  "You should've told me before," he said weakly, avoiding eye contact.  I decided to give him time. But over the next few weeks all communication between us outside of school faded away. We had to sit next to each other in some lessons, and the atmosphere couldn't have been more different.  Eventually I said: "My sexuality doesn't affect my personality."  "I can't help feeling uncomfortable around you," he told me. "I just don't want to be near someone who might be attracted to me who I don't fancy back."  I asked him if he thought he was a homophobe. He just shrugged and didn't seem to care.  I should've explained to him my opinion on the subject of homophobia: it's not homophobic to feel slightly uncomfortable, but it is if you let those feelings get in the way of a normal relationship. It's also wrong to assume that a homosexual friend is going to fancy you.  But I couldn't speak normally that day, sickened by the destruction of what I'd considered a true friendship.  I also wanted to tell him that you shouldn't be okay with being labelled a homophobe. The fact that he didn't see it as being as negative a term as, say, "racist" was revealing.  At the time, I couldn't articulate this. But I soon realised that I didn't have to say anything to him. I just had to surround myself with better people.  I grew from the experience with my friend. I decided to come out to more people, to prove to myself that not all of my classmates were homophobic, and to appreciate those who accepted me for who I am. Thankfully, everyone else I told was accepting.  "Sorry to anyone in here who's gay," said one boy this week, after having abused the word.  In fact, since I told my classmates about my sexuality, several more people have come out as gay.  Aware that one of them – me, in this case – was in the room, the student who used "gay" as an insult acknowledged his mistake and quickly corrected himself. Everyone in the class heard him. Eyes did wander over to me, but there was no fear or tension. I told him it was okay. And I smiled.  To other students who might be worrying about coming out, I would say this: don't let fear force you into a shell.
When I came out in sixth form I was hurt by the response  of my best friend – but I found support in my other classmates