By Oliver Radclyffe
But even if I had still been closeted, I knew it would be almost impossible to form a cohesive narrative from the confusing evidence laid out in front of me. It had taken me over forty years to figure it out myself, and I was the main suspect.
By Michael Varga
I want to complain about being an outlier, but the minute I begin to form the words, I catch myself. You see, I have been an outlier before. And then, I had no complaints.
By Cory Allen
I didn’t realize it then, but it took us years to figure out who we were, come to terms with what it meant to be LGBTQ, relearn our identities, and find our footing in the world.
By Mike Coleman
In the 1980s, when I came out and bought a home with my then-partner and now-husband, my sister mailed a Jehovah’s Witnesses pamphlet to me describing homosexuality as an abomination.
By Jonah Newman
I craved my teammates’ acceptance and respect, and it couldn’t have been clearer that these would never be extended to anyone other than a cisgender, heterosexual man.
By Subhaga Crystal Bacon
I say I came out formally at that time because I had long since come out to myself one summer afternoon in elementary school while riding my bike. I can still see the scene as if it were yesterday: The purple bike with its chopper handlebars and white banana seat.
By David Cameron Strachan
In junior high school, I saw that I wasn’t developing like other boys. I was teased for my small genitals and breast growth. Our family doctor assured my mother that I’d eventually be “normal” but my biology textbook gave me doubts: it said “giants are usually sterile.”
By David Monticalvo
For the first time in my life, I was happy to be gay, and could enjoy being me. I didn’t know it at the time, but this moment was a spiritual realization – the first step in allowing me fuller self-acceptance.
By Charlie J. Stephens
There are fishing people and service workers and librarians and tradespeople. Few people have managed to use the they/them pronouns that I prefer.
By Chef Rossi
Being a bisexual rocker chick suited my image, but still, there were all those pesky penises to contend with. At first, I thought, “Maybe I just don’t like nice Jewish boys.”
