An Unintended Coming Out: A Story of Triumph and Endurance

{ Jai Santora }

It was about a year ago when a journalist approached me for an interview. The request made me feel both honored and apprehensive. I wondered what I could offer that would be of interest. They told me they wanted to talk about my profession, my industry, and my ties to Worcester's thriving and expanding queer community. Easy enough – these are all topics I'm well-versed in. The opportunity excited me since I hoped it would increase my garage's visibility and attract more customers at a time when we were struggling and uncertain about our future. 

I recall the day vividly – a slushy, snowy day when my children were home from school. I met the journalist at a local restaurant, and the interview started as I had anticipated. My nerves began to calm. Then came a question that gave me chills: "So what was it like coming out as the owner of an automotive repair shop?" Coming out? Who said I was out? I wasn't! Well, clearly, I was, but I hadn't formally come out yet. I hadn't even told my family. The only people who knew were my closest friends and the members of the amazing new community I had discovered in Worcester. My mind raced! I wanted to tell them that I wasn't comfortable discussing that. Then it all hit me at once – I had been living in hiding my entire life. I refused to continue living in the shadows. I had to hold my head high and face the consequences. And, as I said, business wasn't doing well anyway. I didn't have much to lose. 

So, I suppose this is my coming out! I went on to explain that my clients, vendors, and employees had all noticed gradual changes in my appearance and the way I dressed. I noticed that appointments were being scheduled less frequently. I recognized that I was now being treated with misogynistic attitudes that I had never experienced before. Life and running a garage had become challenging. Was that all? Did they have any more questions? No? Great! Thanks for this! I'll just call my insurance company and make sure my coverage is up to date before this article goes live and they come to torch the building. Drive safe in the snow! See you later. 

I knew this was it – this was either going to be a huge relief or the end of an era of owning an auto repair shop. I was on pins and needles waiting for the story to come out. And then it did. As expected, comments started to pour in about the article. Friends told me not to bother reading them, but I had to. I had been through so much growing up – so much shame, oppression, and ridicule. I always believed that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. After a few days, the comments ceased, and the phones started ringing. But the calls I received weren't harassment – they were appointment requests. "Hello, is this Santora Automotives? I read the article about you and your garage. Do you work on Subarus?" I don't know what surprised me more – the fact that I was receiving so much support or the fact that anyone could possibly wonder if I, a now-out trans femme lesbian, could work on Subarus. 

In just a year, I went from contemplating whether or not to close my business to becoming the only Gay-rahj in central Massachusetts. Customers started driving from New Hampshire, Connecticut, Rhode Island, the north and south shores, and, of course, Amherst. I even have a few customers from Provincetown. Some may think it's crazy to travel such a distance for car repairs, but if you've ever walked into a garage office and felt victimized upon first sight, you understand the value of driving a little to gain a lot of respect. I never expected to receive so much support. 

As a business owner, I've discovered that identifying as LGBTQIA2S+ has not only increased my LGBTQIA2S+ customer base, but also attracted straight clients who appreciate authenticity and honesty. However, many queer business owners and individuals still fear openly expressing their identities. I understand this fear all too well. It's like going on a death-defying rollercoaster ride you're sure will end in disaster. But once the ride is over, you realize it wasn't that scary after all. In fact, it was fun, mostly. 

So, why are people afraid to come out and be themselves openly? The answer is complex and obvious at the same time. Of course, we fear for our safety and stability. What if we're rejected, harassed, or worse, physically assaulted? Unfortunately, these fears are all too real as we watch the news and see the legislation being passed throughout the country. But through my personal experiences, I've learned that most people, at least in central MA, welcome authenticity and honesty. They don't need to completely understand everything, as long as you're being true to yourself. In my case, this has allowed me to become an even better service provider. We are at our best when we're comfortable being ourselves.

So, how do we address the hate we see throughout the country? In automotive terms, "the squeaky wheel gets the grease." But the squeaky wheel is usually the minority opinion. So, we need more visibility and representation. We need more people to be loud and proud, and more consistency from allies. We also need to stop pulling pride items off shelves out of fear of intimidation and being too concerned with "passing." Being queer is not something to be ashamed of and hide from. It's a superpower that should be celebrated. 

That's why I'm honored to work with the City of Worcester with the goal to create a permanent garden dedicated to shining a light on the struggles and beauty of the trans community. Every year, trans individuals throughout the country and the world lose their lives due to violence against our community. These are vibrant people who often lead very loving lives that are cut short due to hatred. Their light shined so bright and should not have been extinguished. Trans Day of Remembrance was founded in 1999 to memorialize the murders of Black transgender women Rita Hester and Chanelle Pickett. To remember and honor those lives lost to senseless violence, we celebrate Trans Day of Visibility to showcase the vibrancy of the community and encourage others to live their lives authentically. Trans individuals are moms and dads, brothers and sisters, doctors, lawyers, politicians, neighbors, and friends. We're everywhere, and there's no reason for the hatred directed towards us. 

Our intention with this garden is to plant tulip bulbs each year during Trans Day of Remembrance, one for each trans person who lost their life from violence across the United States, in order to see them bloom each year during Trans Day of Visibility on March 31st. Our hope is that this project will raise awareness and promote more acceptance and understanding of the trans/queer experience, ultimately normalizing it. At the same time building community around planting and maintaining it through volunteering opportunities. Please stay tuned for future opportunities to become involved with volunteering for the project by following my Instagram account @JaiJSantora. Thanks!