October 11th was National Coming Out Day, celebrating, recognizing, and bringing awareness to the LGBTQ+ community. A lot of people who openly identify as queer have a âcoming outâ story where they told loved ones that they are in the Alphabet Mafia. I donât have an iconic coming-out story like some of my peers.
In the years that I was recognizing my sexuality and identity, I felt powerful and unstoppable. My mindset revolved around the concept that if people donât accept me for who I am, they donât deserve to know my slay self. At the same time, these characteristics didnât account for a large portion of who I was as a person. Of course, it made me different than others, but it didnât consume my every waking thought for it to feel very important.
At times, I sprinkled in a comment or joke regarding me being gay or queer, and most of the time nobody cared. This really enforced a mindset that I think helped me grow as a person, knowing that who I love and what I identify as shouldnât matter in a manner that changes the view people have of me. At some point, I think my siblings and friends just concluded that I was queer and accepted the fact that I am who I am.
Regardless, part of me will continue to hide in the darkness within the metaphorical closet. As I explored my identity and sexuality, I recognized and took note of the people in my life who would never accept me, including my parents. In the eyes of my mom, I’m just a strong ally for my queer friends and will fight for them. Donât get me wrong, I would die to ensure my queer friends unlimited basic human rights and respect, but coming out to my parents is another story. The people who gave me life, who raised me for 19 years and counting, the people who continue to be proud of me (I think), the people who know me as their daughter, I know deep down would stop loving me the moment they knew I am queer.
My mom is probably one of my closest friends. Of course, it’s hard to be around her at times, but that just makes the happy moments a bit sweeter. The bitter moments between me and my parents have caused a lot of emotional and mental damage to me as a whole. Some things I may never forgive them for and others I will bury deep down to never resurface again. Nevertheless, those moments will never compare to their reactions if they knew I wanted to marry a woman or even kiss one. Some of you may not fully understand the feeling of this but others will know the feeling a bit too well.
Years later, I am still identifying parts of my sexuality and identity that I’ve never recognized before. Years later, I continue to hunch over and cry myself to sleep in the closet that part of my heart will never escape from. I cry for those before me and for those after me who recognize this feeling. To not be accepted for who you are by those you love the most is unimaginably heartbreakingly torture.
My Quings (just found out it’s a non-binary term for royalty)
My kings
And of course my beautiful queens
I hope you never know that feeling.
But if you do, I cry at night with you.
But always know I love you unconditionally.