Embracing my truth as a gay Muslim man

Coming out to my parents was one of the scariest but proudest moments of my life.

Growing up in a strict Muslim family, I was ingrained with the belief that homosexuality is a grave sin. I never imagined I’d find the courage to come out to my parents. But I finally did—precisely five years ago.

The day I came out

I was 28 years old and heading home to Singapore for a short visit to celebrate Hari Raya with my family. Hari Raya, also known as Eid, marks the end of Ramadan, a month of fasting in Muslim tradition. This festive time is filled with celebrations, prayers, and giving thanks. Families come together, often in new clothes, to share festive meals, exchange gifts, and seek forgiveness from one another.

Returning to Singapore felt like stepping back into a past I had outgrown, retreating into the shell I had painfully broken out of over the past few years, living at and working at ease in Australia.

For two weeks, I would have to pretend to be straight, tolerating the never-ending intrusive questions from family about when I was going to settle down with a girl or whether I was keeping a secret from them. This only intensified my anxiety.

But this time, I decided that wasn’t going to happen anymore. And on the first day of Hari Raya, traditionally meant for seeking forgiveness, I mustered the strength to reveal my truth to my parents.

I waited patiently for my turn and remembered my heart beating so fast. I knelt on the floor, addressed my parents and held their hands. I took a deep breath and said, “Mom and Dad, I’ve wanted to tell you something. I do not like women the same way I like men.”

I let that sink in for a bit and explained to them that this was not their doing or because of how I was brought up. This was something I already knew at the age of seven. I used to pray the gay away, feeling disgusted and hating myself for my preference for men.

I looked up at my parents and saw the disappointment in their eyes. My mom had tears rolling down her cheek, and she said, “But what makes you not like women? Allah created a man and a woman. Not a man and a man.”

I replied, “It’s natural for a man who likes a man to be with another man. What’s unnatural is for a man who likes a man to be with a woman.”

We debated back and forth about the topic, referencing our religion and what’s written in the Qur’an. My dad, filled with both anger and sadness at this point, said, “So you want to get married to another man?”

I looked at them and said, “Yes... that feels right.” I added, “I’m still the same person that I was. I’m not going to love you both any less.”

The conversation ended there, and they both gave me the silent treatment for the next few days. It wasn’t the warm acceptance I had hoped for.

Positivity through patience

I confided in a close friend of mine, Kenton, an LGBTQIA+ mentor involved in the community. He said something that has stayed with me: “It took you more than 24 years to accept and embrace your sexual identity fully. You gotta give them more than 24 hours to process all of this.”

And so I did. After a few days, they eventually started talking to me, and we’re now back on good terms.

I remember feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was my first time feeling free and accurate to my authentic self. For the first time, I was not ashamed of who I was, and I put myself first. I was no longer afraid of what anyone would think of me. I finally got to be the real me.

Finding freedom and support

Today, I stand proud of my journey, embracing my identity and finding support in the LGBTQIA+ community. I’m thankful for my experiences in Australia and the people I’ve met who’ve allowed me to be so comfortable with my sexuality.

I became involved in the queer community—attending events and becoming curious about other people’s stories. I even facilitated queer workshops after noticing the lack of POC representation when attending these events. 

This was one of the most meaningful experiences I've had as a gay man—being able to share my experience, learn from others, and inspire confidence in other young gay individuals to feel comfortable with their sexuality.

Now, I can show up as my best self at work—without worrying about whether people will like me or not if I’m too feminine or fighting internal thoughts when working with others. I never have to hide this side of me, and I also never have to be forceful and flamboyant just to make it known. I just get to be me.

Lessons in authenticity

Years of self-discovery and support in Melbourne helped me embrace my true self. Despite my parents’ initial shock and disappointment, standing firm in my identity allowed our relationship to find a new balance, even though it’s still a topic we never really talk about unless we have to.

The lessons I’ve learned are invaluable. Courage comes from within, but it is often nurtured by the acceptance and support of others. Living authentically is not just about self-acceptance but also about allowing others the time to adjust and accept. My experience has taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of being true to myself.

To those in the LGBTQIA+ community who may be struggling with their identity or considering coming out, remember you are not alone. The path may be daunting, and the fear of rejection is real, but there is immense power and peace in living authentically. Surround yourself with those who uplift and support you, and remember that acceptance, both from self and others, takes time.

What this means for businesses and brands

Businesses and brands looking to authentically engage with the LGBTQIA+ community should consider that we represent 5–10% of the population. Of the largest Gen Z demographic, 17% identify as LGBTQIA+ or are supportive allies, and they’re particularly attuned to spotting inauthenticity.

In a workplace setting, meaningful partnerships go beyond flying a rainbow flag and actively pursuing initiatives for progress is critical. If there’s a lack of LGBTQIA+ representation in your creative department or agency, advocate for it. Efforts to allocate budget and focus and the actual work representing the LGBTQIA+ community shouldn’t solely fall on LGBTQIA+ individuals but must involve allies in leadership roles.

Remember, your journey is unique, and it’s valid. Embrace it with pride and know that the world is better with your true self in it.

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Amirul Nasir is the lead experience designer at RGA Australia. He is an advocate for the LGBTQIA+ community and has facilitated workshops for young, gay individuals through Thorne Harbour Health Australia.