My first kiss was with “Anna,” my best female friend in high school. Anna graduated a semester early from high school and moved from our hometown of Indianapolis to the Bay Area to live with her aunt. When we were friends, our favorite movies were Beaches and Fried Green Tomatoes.

Once she had moved across country, I phoned her. She said that she just finished reading the novel Fried Green Tomatoes, and it was different than the movie.

“How so?” I asked.

She said, “The women in the book were lesbians.”

The phone suddenly got very silent. I wanted to ask, “Do you think that’s what we are?” But I responded with silence.

Soon after high school graduation, I went to India with my older sister.
Near the end of our trip, I ended up in the hospital in Mumbai recovering from a bout of severe dysentery.

Since we landed in India, I hadn’t thought much about Anna — my first high school girlfriend. But while I was in the hospital there, my relatives were all sitting around me. They had brought by a guru to supposedly cure me. He put his giant warm hand on my forehead, and I remember thinking. “If there is a God, let this God, let me die here. Because I’d rather die here in this hospital bed than be gay.”

Today is “National Coming Out” Day, and I’m proud to say I’ve lived long and strong as an out and proud lesbian.