I came out as a lesbian when I was 19 and in college in the very liberal city of Ithaca, NY. So it was quite a change to come back home to the North Shore of Massachusetts to live and look for a job, especially with my father saying “Never tell anybody! You’ll get fired!”

Equal employment protection for LGBT folks in Mass had only been in place for a year or two, so it wasn’t an unreasonable concern. But after awhile, I decided that even if I wasn’t going to come out with a big pronouncement, I would never deny it if asked.

I was put to the test for the first time when the head engineer at my workplace came over and said “I’m familiar with the multicolored Apple logo that people put on their cars, but what does the triangle with the rainbow stripes on your car mean?”

I took a deep breath and answered him. He seemed uncomfortable and made a quick exit. I was left shaking and waiting to see if I’d be escorted out of the building with my belongings in a box. Instead, we wound up talking more about it later, and ultimately, our working relationship grew stronger and better.

Even if you’re not consciously thinking about it, being in the closet creates a level of mental overhead for yourself and can also create walls between you and your colleagues, since there’s always a level of self-censorship you have to perform.

I’m happy to say that in subsequent comings-out on the job, my experiences were similar -- working relationships grew and I didn’t have to expend mental energy trying to keep part of myself out of the workplace.

I've joined several different companies throughout my career, and my sexuality was always something I was careful about. "Would I seem too "gay"? "Would I make people uncomfortable?" "Is my voice too feminine?"

All those concerns on top of normal ones, "Will they see me as an equal?" "Will I do a good job here?" -- it's exhausting!

Finally, and I think this came with turning 30, I told myself, "ENOUGH! You're you, and if someone has a problem with it, that's their problem".

I decided, as long as I present myself professionally and do my job, nothing else about me should matter. When casual conversations about the weekend come up, I mention the weekend trip my boyfriend and I took to the Cape.

I feel honored and blessed to be able to be so open and frank about my sexuality. It's an incredible thing to see all these pride flags all over Boston. It really shows how far we've come as a community; a community I'm proud to be a part of.

I don’t really have a “coming out” at work story, mostly because I made a conscious decision at age 19, after coming out to my immediate family (mom, dad, brother, and sister-in-law) and closest friends, that I would never live my life again “in the closet”.

Fortunately, my friends and family were supportive and I just figured that it didn’t really matter what other people thought about me. In college, and then later in the workplace, I found that by just being myself and casually talking about topics like relationships or dating in an honest way, classmates and colleagues didn’t act any differently around me.

In a way, by just being me on a daily basis with whomever I encounter, whether it be a new coworker, a client, or a complete stranger, it “normalizes” being gay. I’m grateful that I live in a liberal state like Massachusetts where gay families are more commonplace and accepted. And, I’m especially thankful for those who came before us, as well as those who continue today, to fight to protect LGBTQ rights.

(This person’s name has been changed due to family reasons).

I came out on the same day I interviewed at Cantina.

I’d missed my first interview because I was sick, and my second because I was on vacation. Third time was a charm. Cantina was THE place that I wanted to work. By the time my interview was over I was covered in flop sweat — overall a giant raw nerve.

Afterwards, I met a friend for drinks at a bar nearby. Several drinks in, I blurted out something I’d wanted to say for years — the hardest sentence I’d ever articulated. “I’m gay.”

That day was an inflection point in my life — new job, newly out. A clean start if there ever was such a thing.

I wish that I could not care what people think, but I do. I will sometimes temper my words, use vague pronouns when describing my dates. Maybe it’s because “the look” people sometimes have — that mental recalibration, that realization of “oh.”

Cantina is the place where I feel most comfortable — perhaps because I see how my colleagues here are treated, and how that extends onward to me. It’s not only where I’m the most “out,” it’s where I can be the most “out.”

I wish everywhere could be that way.