I was, to my knowledge, the first of my conservative, Catholic community to come out as bisexual, and ever since, I have been very open and candid about my life as a queer person and engaging in the queer culture and community.
If the first few adjectives in that last sentence are any indication, then you can imagine this revelation wasn't met with love and acceptance.
In my past article, "I Will Not Apologize for my Queerness," I talk about the struggle that came with the coming out of my sexuality. What I don't completely get into is the pain that came with the rejection I faced from people I had known my entire life, largely because it's still so hard to talk about. My family didn't really get it, and to my knowledge, still doesn't understand. Friends and other adults in my life that I thought loved me showed their true colors, and the fact that their care and well wishes were conditional: the condition that I grow up to be "normal."
My high school wasn't exactly a safe haven for LGBT persons either, and even though I've met queer people in college, I'm still adjusting. A large issue I had when I was younger is that I didn't know any gay or queer people. It was taboo and "weird" and not really tolerated or discussed. Frankly, had I come out at 14, like I planned to, I don't even want to know what kind of response I would have gotten because I can imagine it wouldn't have been that good.
A big part of my issue was that I felt so alone, and my coming out only emphasized this feeling even more. The fact that I am attracted to women makes people so uncomfortable, and if I was stupid, then I might miss their reactions: the shifty eyes, the disgust on their face, the almost palpable tension that bubbles to the surface when I try to talk about my love life.
It's sad, really, that who I love is enough to ostracize me to the extent that it has. That feeling of knowing people do not care anymore because you are gay, because they think you chose to do this, hurts in ways that words can't express.
Even in the friends that do understand, there is a little bit of a distance. It's not out of hatred or ignorance, it's just because they lead different lives. And that's fine. You didn't choose to be straight any more than I chose to be gay.
The problem is, and I say this not to pass judgement, but to get to the point: straight people simply don't understand what we go through.
And that's why when you find people who do understand you, the love is more than you ever could have imagined.
On an episode of "RuPaul's Drag Race," RuPaul says a quote that did and has stuck with me for years, "We, as gay people, we get to choose our family and the people we're around."
In the queer community, the importance of your "family of choice" can not be overstated. I know for a fact if it wasn't for the friends that have embraced me like family, I wouldn't have been able to come out and be proud of my sexuality. In a world so full of ignorance and hate, having people who understand and care about you when you otherwise wouldn't have that same kind of love is amazing.
Over the years, I've gained many friends through various outlets who would later come to be people I consider brothers, sisters or siblings with a closeness that I didn't imagine I could share with other people. We have different interests, lead different lives, hell, some of them live halfway across the country, but that bond we have is really something special.
It's comforting in a very real way, but can also be jarring. In the real world, not everyone is going to get you, not everyone is going to understand or even tolerate your sexuality or gender identity. After being around people so accepting and caring, and going back to your previous life is quite a juxtaposition, because sometimes you forget that not everyone is as wonderful as your chosen family.
Now, that's not to say everything is perfect. Most of my friends get off on throwing shade and we all love to spill the tea like nobody's business. Every group has its up and downs, but at the end of the day, we are family. Cliche as it sounds, it's the truth. No matter what comes between us, we know we have each other. Even if we don't talk for months, or move on with other aspects of our lives, we can pick up a conversation like time never stopped.
If I need anything, then I know they'll be there for me.
Which is something I haven't had before, and didn't know how bad I needed it until it was there.
This article makes it all sound so serious, but we do a lot more than just share in our collective queerness. There are times I go to talk to my friends and we spend hours trading memes or making fun of the typos we send each other in group chats, never letting go of inside jokes or even giving each other general life advice.
I never had siblings growing up, and since the bonds I held were so conditional, I hadn't really connected with people the way I have with my friends. I know for a fact that if I didn't have that support, my coming into the world as a queer person would have ended tragically.
Even with everything I've said here, it doesn't feel enough to express my feelings, nor do I feel it does these people complete justice, because they are all beautiful beings who will always hold a place in my heart.
They are all so unapologetically themselves that it inspires me every single day, and at the risk of sounding cheesy, watching them be strong has helped me to be strong. Watching them fight inspires me to fight.
Most importantly, they've helped me realize how important it is to accept myself and be the best version of myself I can be. Because they love me, and in turn, I love myself.
