Affirming Your Queerness This Valentine’s Season

In my characteristically divided Gemini state of being, I feel pretty strongly about living on the two sides of most everything; sexuality included. Since I was a kid, I’ve always had a developing sense of both the heterosexuality instilled in me, and the ever-evolving complex queer side of me. 

I’ve spent years and years trying to figure out my sexuality. While it’s hard to say how long, I can certainly pinpoint one of my most memorable experiences… the fateful day that Miley Cyrus’ Wrecking Ball music video came out. I vividly remember sitting in the backseat of my car, trying to get a good view of the music video playing on the iPod touch in the front seat of the car. Real talk; I know very few people who can put into words exactly where and when they knew.

One of the many beautiful things about queer communities and queer love is the undeniable kinship of shared vulnerability and trust in each other. The unparalleled importance of my queer family and friends growing up impacted my perception of love in many ways. As a young person, my active imagination and ability to create fun out of almost anything led me to unexpected places. My best example of this being when one of my friends invited me to come to sleepaway camp with her for the first time, claiming it to be the greatest place on Earth.

In hindsight, this camp was no ordinary place. Almost a decade later I fondly recognize my sleepaway camp as the culmination of the greatest lessons of how to truly embody empathy, compassion, and love I’ve ever learned. My camp taught me not only what it means to be completely accepting of myself, but more importantly, what it takes to do that for others. What fills my heart the most about this place is the fact that my “accidental” discovery of myself was not my unique experience. With the majority of staff and campers identifying as queer in some capacity, I fortuitously stepped into a community of resilient and creative people, who embraced me whole-heartedly. At the time, I was a minority as someone who (assumed) I was heterosexual. As I went through the characteristic exploratory (and awkward) years of life, I simultaneously felt my affinity for queer culture and love grow. As I excitedly returned to camp each summer, I felt a stronger sense of allyship and connection to my queer friends than ever before, until I realized it might be something more. My sleepaway camp became a coveted safe haven for me to freely exist among so many incredible friends, with all of the weirdness and silliness of a group of individuals who deeply and authentically love and accept each other. As I grew up, I came to understand just how rare and beautiful it is to find this just about anywhere in life. 

 In my mind, I have never exactly fit the painted picture of queerness, which I think made things arguably more complex for my journey to self-discovery. “Proving” my sexuality to myself involved a serial spree of dating men, always engaging with other girls’ competition to capture the attention of whoever was interesting; an important lesson I learned in “what it takes” to be the most loved and the most admired, in the heteronormal ways. In reality, this pattern disguised a deeper and more self-destructive tendency secretly related to my sexuality, a concept more well-known by the queer community as comphet. A year and a half ago I decided to take the leap and cut my hair, a more than physical transformation that shifted how I see myself fitting into queer society. I could write endlessly about the relief I felt to finally reach down deep and welcome my own journey of “becoming”. While yes, it’s just hair, for me it was and is a tribute to the creativity and bravery I have always seen in myself. 

For someone who admittedly loves to anticipate what comes next, in terms of my sexuality, I’ll admit I’ve never fully had the answers. 

Representation and love come in all shapes and sizes; and every other day when I feel my sense of self-doubt creeping back in, I often rely on queer media to sustain the faith. As an upstander to queer love there are, of course, risks. While I wish every queer person in my life had my same usher into the community that I did, I realize that there are so many people who will never get that privilege. In a right that has been deeply fought for, we as a minority still stand on the precipice of uncertainty in the day-to-day. Where there stands deep love, there was once incredible loss. If you’ve ever felt confused or alone, if you are feeling like the sole club member of the “Q” (queer/questioning) club this Valentine’s Day, I am right there with you. What can you do but look to the courage of the arts for some inspiration? Here are a few mixed-media choices that I feel particularly affirmed by:

1. Jean-Micheal Basquiat

2. “Lesbian Of The Year”

3. Dear Evan Hansen

4. ‘On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous’

5. ‘Brokeback Mountain’

 Queerness and sexuality don’t need to define everything you are, but your story and your journey are under-valued testimonials of self-love. On days when it feels less than easy to wear your outward representation of pride, it is the quiet acts of introspective self-recognition that are the real testaments to the love you carry.

• #lgbtq+
• #queer community
• #Valentine's Day
• love