coming out

Still, despite these positive aspects of labels, they can lead to limitations, enforce stereotypes and create difficulties when coming out to loved ones. 

At the intersection of Broadway and 41st Street in Temescal sits Brenda’s, a casual counter-service joint featuring New Orleans-inspired cuisine. I had the privilege of sitting down for a phone call with Brenda to discuss her experiences navigating the culinary world as a queer woman of color.

There’s almost always the white, cisgender, straight-sized protagonist and their exploration of their queerness, all packed with a nice little bow and colorful pop music. There’s never a plus-sized, anxious, brown bisexual floundering in college.

Nothing can genuinely depict coming out and the effect it’ll have on you — the mixed emotions of peace of mind and distress, the combination of happily ever after and Shakespearean tragedy.

I “came out of the closet” about two years ago. Coming out didn’t matter to me because it doesn’t make me any more or less queer, but it felt as though it was expected of me before I could ever date another woman. It felt as if it was one hurdle I had to pass before reaching another.

I’m afraid to come out to people not just because I fear they won’t accept me, but because I’m afraid they won’t believe me.

We all have a role to play in the safety of our TGNC community members. We can build and advocate for welcoming and inclusive environments in the institutions and communities to which we belong. It will take time to understand and accept, to deconstruct the systems that have been created. But when the alternative is harmful to our children, love and acceptance must prevail.

So dear straight people: Stop invalidating the exploration and questioning of sexuality. My queerness always existed before my public debut.