I realized I liked girls at age eight. I don’t remember the exact details, an angel didn’t come out of the sky and say “hey moron, you’re gay.” I lived in such a place that I didn’t even know what a lesbian was until one of my friends told me Ellen Degeneres was gay and we had to Google what that even meant. So I guess you could say my hometown was less than accepting of girls kissing girls.

I remember staring at the wall in the locker room in middle school so no one would catch on. I remember going on a trip in eighth grade and seeing posters for a GSA at the college I was staying at and crying because there were people like me. I remember that was the day I decided to keep quiet about my sexuality until college. I told my best friend who had told me she had a gay uncle and I made her promise to never tell anyone. I can say with confidence she kept that promise until the day I came out and I can never thank her enough for that.

Over the years, I told a few more people. My friend I met freshman year was another person who supported me through the years of hiding my secret until college. The more I talked to my “friends,” the more I knew this was not something I could handle as a teenager.

There were less than five gay men in my graduating class. The difference is, they were all out before we graduated. There were a handful of bisexual women and men, they were all great and all labelled as attention seekers--which was not fair to them because bisexuality is completely real and valid. Seems like even members of the queer community forget them so quick shoutout to my bi friends. And then there was us. There were two lesbians in my graduating class, one of my best friends and me.

I kissed a lot of my friends in high school. A lot of them were drunk, fun, kisses. And then I kissed my best friend. It was just a little peck because she was bi curious. And a few months later, we both came out as lesbians.

I would call that a defining moment in my high school career. Around that same time-- toward prom season of my senior year, I really began embracing my sexuality. I began telling more friends about my feelings and nearly everyone was accepting. This was about a year after my original friend group--who wouldn’t have accepted me, abandoned me. At the time, I was upset but as I came out to one friend at a time, I was thankful I would never have to face telling them.

It went on well for a few months, casually on Tinder, talking about girls with my friends, trying to flirt with the cute barista at the coffeehouse in town. And then I met Amanda.

My current girlfriend and I began talking summer of 2015. It was shortly after I graduated. At first it was fun, but I fell for her really quickly and decided it wasn’t fair to hide her from my family.

Coming out to my family went every way you can imagine. Younger siblings still had the small town mentality, so one stopped talking to me, one insulted me endlessly, and the youngest was pretty much okay with it. As far as my parents went, I was raised Catholic. So a big part of us all coming to the same terms was balancing religion and my happiness. I can say that I am on good terms with my entire family now and they are nothing but supportive of my relationship. But, I cannot lie, it was a long, rocky road to get to this point.

In my town, reactions were similar. One woman called me a disappointment to my parents and my church while another asked questions about my relationship and told me I seemed happier than I’d ever been. The latter was true, it’s hard to be happy when you’re hiding a major part of your life for the better part of 19 years. High school teachers reached out to me and supported me. It was a healing process and for a while it was hard to go anywhere without walking in and introducing myself by saying, “Hi, how are you? I’m gay.”

That initial enthusiasm toward my sexuality faded as it became a part of my routine.

After moving out, I found my fellow queers at college. They made me feel welcome and accepted and at home. It was a major part of coming to terms with the fact that I am not broken. I deserve to love and be loved. In a time where my trans brothers and sisters are persecuted, and conversion therapy is still practiced; where businesses can deny service based on who you go to bed with, it’s important for the LGBTQ+ community to remember:

You are not broken. You deserve love.