In October of 2009, I landed in Lisbon, Portugal. I was meeting my boyfriend at the airport and was about to start the next exciting phase of my academic career.

After getting clearance from the border guards, it was a long walk to the sliding doors. I knew that on the other side of those doors was an excited soul waiting to see me.  I was carrying three large luggage bags, holding everything I thought I needed to survive the next year in Portugal.  My stomach was in knots. I already missed my family and I began to doubt my decision to leave my government job and take on this new challenge.

The doors opened. I was scared. I looked around trying to find the only face I knew in the crowd.  I immediately found him.  I rushed over to him, hoping I wouldn’t drop any of my possessions.  We embraced, I went in for a kiss, as I had done dozens of times before, and I was immediately stopped.

“We don’t do that here, this isn’t Canada.” That was what I was told within minutes of arriving.

The next several months proved equally as difficult.  I moved into an international residence, met dozens of new schoolmates, worked in a clinic to pay for my schooling, and I had the opportunity to visit with old family members.  On a few occasions, and I mean a few, I gathered enough courage to tell people that I was gay, but for most of my time while studying abroad, I decided to pretend to be someone that I was not.

I eventually lost my relationship and ultimately lost myself in the process.

The once free, open and confident me, the one that took 23 years to build up was nowhere to be found.  I retreated and went back to the days of doubt, shame, and fear.

I couldn’t believe what had happened to me.  For years, I scolded gay friends and colleagues for not opening up to their families and friends about who they really were.  I would tell them that the answer to their frustration and anxiety was in their own hands.  I used, over and over again, my own experience and how good it felt to be open and out, to justify why others should do the same.

In retrospect, I was being unfair, hostile and even felt a sense of superiority.  As if because I was gay and out, made me a stronger person.

I was wrong.

It is because of this experience that I find it hard to accept Rick Mercer’s most recent rant, essentially telling gay men and women in positions of influence and power that they are obligated to come out before more children take their own lives.

I have a lot of time and respect for Rick Mercer, but this time, his position is simply incompatible with the point I know he is attempting to make.

First of all, troubled teenagers are not taking their own lives because cabinet ministers and CEOs are still in the closet.  Is this a worrying reality and a conversation worth having?  Yes, but lumping this into the same argument, and pretending it is the solution to stop our children from quitting life so soon, is simply erroneous and offside.

Rather, I wish Mercer would talk about how the problems and the solutions are multifaceted, complex, and ingrained in some of the most prominent institutions in our land -- including at the dinner tables in the homes of our nation.

When children in our public schools are unable to form gay support groups because the Catholic church believes homosexuality to be a sin, and we all remain silent about that injustice... we fail our children.

When political parties at all levels use a candidate’s sexuality to advance a right-wing political agenda, and we refuse to confront those actions... we fail our children.

When some forms of hate speech are excused and defended on the grounds of “free speech” and no one believes this to be a concern... we fail our children.

When we begin to think that it is insignificant that the Conservative mayor of the largest city in Canada decides to miss Pride celebrations and pit gay issues against “familial obligations”... we fail our children.

When we fail to adequately separate church (mosque, synagogue, or temple) and state... we fail our children.

And when we, the “well-adjusted out gays” begin to take our eyes off our true foes, and begin to openly attack those who are still struggling with their own sexual identities... we fail our children.

So, yes, Rick Mercer, gay teens do in fact need more and better role models.  And thank you for pointing out the hypocrisy with the Conservative Party of Canada making an unconvincing and disingenuous “It Gets Better” video when they have been and still are one of the most prominent organizations in ensuring that advancements on gay rights issues are halted in this country.

But, bullying others, in positions of power, because you perceive them to be “broken” and “part of the problem” is not the way to go.

Every individual should be able to make that courageous and personal leap of faith when they feel ready to do so, whether you are a teenager in high school, a CEO, a cabinet minister, or a less confident soul on the other side of the Atlantic.

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