thoughts on pride

a short exploration of my identity, and how i came to be.

i try not to think about it too often. i think too much, but i don’t like thinking about the important things. though it’s hard to write and not think at the same time.

i feel ashamed much of the time. i wish i wasn’t, but i spent a long time hiding, and it’s hard to break the habit.

i used to tell myself that if i came out, i would die. i would be disowned. i would lose everything. worse things. but then i came out, and that didn’t happen.

learning i was queer was my first introduction to unconditional love. i never spoke of it, but i was hyperaware that my existence could result in my expulsion. all queer people are uncomfortably close to this. we grow up with it lurking over our shoulders.

i don’t mean that anything bad happened. growing up in orange county, like anywhere, i was around that casual homophobia that kids like to spout. that’s gay. lesbians are gross. she’s a total dyke. it made me shake.

some people were accepting, but for the few that were vocal about it, there were more that weren’t. i felt paranoid, but i imagined everyone to be secretly hateful. that made more sense to me. and so i stayed quiet.

part of me is jealous of those who were out early. who realized early enough to fast track the shame and get to the pride. they were known, and they were seen. hiding meant i wasn’t seen, and i wasn’t heard. i came out because i felt like i had to, not because i was proud, and not because i wanted to.

i never imagined my parents to be accepting. they made jokes. my mom was raised mormon, my dad just as conservative. they told me they loved me no matter what, but i didn’t believe them. to me, they hadn’t factored in the possibility of me being gay. it wasn’t possible for them to accept me.

and then they did. my mom didn’t believe me at first, but that was it. there was more. there’s always more. but at its most basic, they accepted me. i imagine what my younger self would feel, and i know what she would say. i find it hard to believe sometimes, too.

as a result, i’ve never been outwardly prideful. it’s always been a risk to me, and one i never thought was worth it. in the same vein, pride has always felt like a privilege i’m not privy to. pride needs resilience and strength that i don’t have yet. sometimes, it feels like a wound needling my chest.

but recently, i’ve felt closer to those who started pride all those years ago, and i think about buying a pride flag for my room. i would like the reminder, and maybe it’s time to try having some courage.