Finding Pride

Growing up, I didn’t see many LGBTQ people in media. The knowledge I had was limited to grade school insults and random things my older siblings told me. Like the time my sister chopped all of one of my Barbie’s hair off, called her butch and then had to explain lesbians to me. It always felt like I was watching something I wasn’t supposed to when a queer character did show up. I was still in grade school when Ellen came out on her sitcom and when Chris Paradis said “Oh Daddy! I’m a lesbian, a big one” in First Wives Club. Both moments intrigued me, and both moments opened up the entire LGBTQ universe for me. Soon enough, I had watched To Wong Foo, the Birdcage and even the sapphic classic Bound. Of course, I watched Gia religiously. I found solace in these characters, whether they were fictional or not. The things I was feeling deep inside were out and proud in these pieces of media, so why couldn’t I be? The more media I absorbed with LBGTIA+ faces, the less ashamed I began to feel. In junior high, I even had my first girlfriend, even if it was just puppy love for a few months. It felt so exciting to be true to myself, I could feel my pride in myself starting to grow and the phoenix in me rising.

Unfortunately, as it does for so many, high school would snuff out the fire igniting within me quickly enough. By senior year, I was shoving myself all the way back into Narnia, closet wise. Kids were cruel, and said the most awful things. I was an avid fan of many actresses and because I talked more about actresses then the popular actors, I was often harassed. I wore a shirt with a female wrestler on it, only to be told that girls don’t wear shirts with others girls on them unless they’re gay, as if it were something to be ashamed of. My parents weren’t anti-gay, but their views beyond gay and lesbian were fairly limited. I can remember being younger and my mother asking why bisexuals just couldn’t pick one already. She’s come a long way since then, thankfully, but she still says some things that raise an eyebrow. My father passed away almost 20 years ago, but leading up to his death and after I would learn that my father was struggling with his own sexuality. Knowing that my father, a giant man who loved all sorts of “manly” things, was struggling with his own sense of identity was eye opening for me. I didn’t want to be afraid of myself anymore or the things I was feeling. I identified as bisexual, even despite my then ex trying to convince me it was just a phase. He, in fact, was the phase. I was in that relationship for six years with him, trying desperately to ignite a flame of true love that we were attempting to light in full kiddie pool in winter. I took on a lot of emotional turmoil and trauma just to fit myself in to some traditional box to appeal to people I wasn’t even comfortable being around. Extended family members, former friends, these were just some people I had to pretend to be someone else around. Why was I wearing so many masks for people, often strangers, who would not accommodate me in any sort of way?

Meeting my current partner wasn’t some kind of magical rainbow of freedom either. I had to work through a lot of my own internalized homophobia. I was terrified to hold her hand in public at times and had to learn to find pride in our relationship. She was also dealing with a conservative family who did not know she was queer. She was outed by an aunt who wasn’t a fan of how much time she was spending with me if I was merely a roommate; she wasn’t comfortable with her dating someone who then identified as female but was also autistic. Her family has since worked through it and have accepted me in ways I wouldn’t have expected in the past. They have been far more willing than some members of my own family and for that acceptance I am grateful.

The way things are backsliding currently make me have flashbacks to when I was too afraid to be out in public. Now the fear doesn’t just stem from judgement or not fitting in with loved ones… it’s a fear of being hurt by strangers merely for existing as who I am. I’m long past being afraid to be loving in public with my partner, but I fear for how angry and violent people can be loud and sincere now in their hatred; enabled by the current political climate and vocal homophobia and transphobia of hyper-masculine influencers. It’s frightening to watch how we are truly regressing as a society and sometimes I feel like I’m a young queer again, just wading into the open waters I once swam freely because I’m once again afraid I’ll drown. I know I’ve swam through rushing waters to be proud of my queer identity before. I’ve made it to the other side of the river once before and I know I may have to make the trek back and forth many times in my lifetime as society ebbs and flows in its understanding and acceptance. Each time, my pride comes out not just unscathed, but brighter, bolder, even more colorful than before. More luminous than one can ever imagine. In my storms, I will always project a rainbow for others to see now. I have to be a beacon for those who are just wading into their own queer identities. If I can be a lighthouse in the deepest of waters, then I will do it. I cannot allow myself to swallow down my pride in fear any longer, I deserve to exist exactly how I am: Autistic, pansexual & non-binary.