Before midnight, I just wanted to remind everyone that I am a gay man who identifies at times and moments as queer. I am so grateful to all of those who came before and are still working today to make my life possible — and better. Thanks. #NationalComingOutDay 
I have been blessed to have a supportive family and so many loving friends — yet I still know I went through a lot to get here. (And will still go through plenty more.) Take your time. Learn who you are. Find people who cherish the best parts of you. Keep them close.
As proud as NCOD makes me, the end of the day leads to a sinking in my heart, as I remember that it was overnight after Oct. 11, in the early hours of Oct. 12, that Matthew Shepard died in 1998.
He was less than a year older than me; I was living in Youngstown, Ohio when he died. I was frightened. I had come out when I moved to DC, but had returned to northeast Ohio by then (and was still, mostly, out), and I followed every second of the news coverage.
It’s shocking to me, laying here, thinking about the fact that it’s been 20 years since that night. I’m crying, thinking about Judy and Dennis Shepard, Matthew’s parents. I’ve been lucky enough to meet them several times, and I still remember the first time, a night in 2000.
Their selflessness and love in the wake of their son’s death might have been one of the first times I really understood grace.
At 12:53 a.m. Oct. 12, 1998, Matthew Shepard died.
In a statement released by the hospital later that morning, Judy closed with a simple message: "Go home, give your kids a hug, and don't let a day go by without telling them you love them."
In a statement released by the hospital later that morning, Judy closed with a simple message: "Go home, give your kids a hug, and don't let a day go by without telling them you love them."
I know that there are many people out there tonight, still scared, still uncertain of what risks they might face if they are honest about who they are. Those risks are real. Those fears are well-founded. We need to do better.
For my part, I try to listen. I try to learn. I try to share stories. I try to inform. ... And I try to be myself, sharing my queerness with the world.
It’s 12:53. We still miss you, Matthew. Twenty years later. RIP. ... Night, all, and let us try to be good to one another — and ourselves.
