My dad and his partner were visiting me my freshman year in college.
I was scared shitless.
No one knew my dad was gay. No one had ever met my dad. No one knew this other side of me.
I was a college athlete. I had a reputation to uphold. An image. A persona. None of which included having a gay dad.
I told my roommates and my teammates that my dad and his "friend" were stopping by for lunch.
I hoped no one would be around. That the three of us could find an obscure place to have lunch, walk around campus for a bit, and then I'd send them on their way.
I did escape.
I don't remember if anyone met my dad and his partner. I was too petrified to recall such silly details. Either way, no one said anything.
In my mind my secret was safe. No harm done. Nothing to explain. No homophobic banter to navigate. No image to reconcile. No stigma.
It took me a long time to tell people my dad was gay. I desperately covered that part of me, limiting a core part of who I was.
I was unwilling to risk being my full self for fear of losing my precious social capital.
And I know people who do this every day. They cover. They downplay. They hide. They lie.
For many, though, it's not about social capital. It's about discrimination and harassment.
For some, it's a matter of life and death.