I didn't come out to the world, I came into myself.

On opening the doors of a truly authentic life and giving myself the opportunity to love and be loved fully.

It felt like a dirty secret everyone knew or thought they knew.

But nobody wanted to confirm. That is until too much time passed where they felt like I should entertain the company of someone other than my best friend, preferably someone of the opposite sex.

“Can I ask you something?” my Grandmother said hesitantly one day.

“Sure?” I said, curious about what she was going to ask.

“Well, you spend a lot of time with your best friend, and you’ve only ever brought one guy home. Your sister and aunts were all bringing boys home at your age and well..”

“Oh shit!” I thought, my stomach instantly dropping to my toes. “Um, yeah?” I stammered in reply.

“Well, is there something to want to tell me? You know, about liking boys because it’s alright if you don’t.”

I was silent for a moment. This question was a curve ball I didn’t see coming, and she wanted a response to her inquiry whether I was ready to answer, or not.

“No Grandmother,” I sighed, “I’m not gay if that’s what you’re asking. Boys just don’t like me very much and you know I’m focused on school.”

“Well, alright Dear, if you say so.”

Fast forward to my freshmen year of college. I was getting ready for a basketball game, which was outside of my comfort zone at the time but I accepted the invitation to go anyway to avoid spending all of my time in my room. My phone rings and I immediately pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello Niece,” my great aunt’s voice says on the other end. “What are you up to tonight?”

“Hi T, I’m getting ready to head to the basketball game with some friends,” I say while continuing to get dressed.

“Oooh, and what are we wearing?” She asked inquisitively.

“Umm, some sweats and a hoodie,” I respond.

“Oh BOO! Ew. That’s not going to attract the boys. Everybody knows you wear heels and a face to the games. How else are you going to find your Howard husband?” She says, annoyed with my lack of effort.

“Well, good thing I’m not going to find a husband, huh?” I snarkily retort.

“Hmm.. about that. I’ve been wondering.. Do you even want a husband? I mean, do you like men? Because it’s okay if you don’t. I’ll still love you the same!”

“Not wanting to dress up for a basketball game turns into me not liking men? That just isn’t my focus right now. I have to head out now, I’ll call you Sunday.” I ended the call, dodging this unexpected conversation again. 

Note to self: get more male friends.

For the first 25 years of my life, I was not comfortable outwardly living in my queerness.

At least as far as my sexuality was concerned. My oddities and sometimes awkwardness were on full display, though. I grew up heavily involved in the church and constantly inundated with messages reminding me that my natural attraction to women wasn’t right. As the daughter of a pastor, a bible study teacher, and a praise team leader, I knew I couldn’t explore what felt natural because of how I would be perceived in the communities and congregations I found myself apart of. I didn’t want the stares and outward vitriol when I dared to be seen in public with a partner who wasn’t a cis men. I didn’t want the questions and curiosities. I decided that I would stick with the comfortable life of perceived heterosexuality.

I don’t have an official coming-out story. I just looked up one day and started selecting “bisexual” on demographic questionnaires and speaking more about it in casual conversation. I think I first said the words “I am bisexual” to a coworker in a random conversation about relationships.

I was on a quest to live my life more authentically in all of the ways and that included exploring my sexuality, even if only in my head at first. During a chance encounter with a friend of a friend, I had my first physically intimate experience with a woman. Though I enjoyed the encounter, I wasn’t yet comfortable accepting this confirmation of what I’ve known my whole life. Not only was I attracted to women, but I actually enjoyed being physically intimate with them outside of my headspace.

A short time later I met my daughter’s father and began a relationship and life with him. All the while, I had a deep desire to continue to explore relationships with women. At one point, when our relationship began to deteriorate, I entertained the idea of dating women outside of my ex but he was not for it, understandably so. 

When our relationship ended and I found myself back in the dating world, and one day opened Tinder and selected “Open to Women.” That choice led to beautiful encounters with beautiful humans and I’d never felt so emotionally and sexually satisfied in my life and I couldn’t–can’t–imagine going back to what I experienced when I primarily dated cis men. The most beautiful, fulfilling, and reciprocal romantic love I’ve ever encountered was not with a man. I have known and dated some wonderful men, but the overwhelming majority of my romantic encounters with men resulted in deeply painful experiences for a myriad of reasons. Overall, I’ve never felt fully understood, cared for, and loved in my relationships with men. I eventually felt like I was asking for and wanting too much. And while I’ve learned to never say never, at this stage in my life I no longer actively date cis men. Will I hunch one every now and then? Sure. While my emotional and romantic attraction to cis men have subsided, I’m still physically attracted to and desire them from time to time.

My decision to live my best queer life was one that was necessary for my survival.

I have enough troubles in this world, I didn’t want to continue to to add to them by not freely being myself and loving who I love. Or [redacted] who I want to [redacted]. Some joked that I was one of those women who “turn gay” after too many bad dealings with men and a baby in tow. Even my daughter’s father questioned whether our relationship “made me gay.” I have had these desires my whole life, before a man or boy had the chance to break my heart. I simply could not continue subjecting myself to misaligned and painful relationships with men simply because that is what the world expected me to do. 

I feel my most authentic self in queer relationships.

I feel most free in queer relationships.

I feel most loved in queer relationships.

I feel most affirmed in queer relationships.

And the only serious romantic relationship that hasn’t left me emotionally shattered and broken was a queer one.

I don’t want to wake up one day in a loveless, sexless relationship because I wasn’t true to my heart. Or have to hide in secret, unable to share my love happenings or partners with the world. I don’t want to make a future partner feel ashamed or hidden because I want our connection to remain a secret.

I don’t know what sex my forever partner will be, or even if there will be one, but I’m glad that I’ve given myself the opportunity to be open to whatever identity that forever love happens to be.

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More like this…

This essay houses my gay agenda.

The next time love visits me.

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