And so are you. 

 

When I was a teenager I googled, “How do I know if I’m gay?” I scanned lists and blogs trying to check to see if what I was experiencing was “normal.” I wanted to know what it meant to be queer and if, in fact, my hunch that I was gay was actually correct. I kept this knowing relatively private during my teens and most of my twenties. Only a few friends knew that I was bisexual and even then, it wasn’t something I was concerned about because I was struggling with so much more than my sexuality at the time. I leaned into my Christian faith, trusted that being celibate would answer all of my questions, and stored my queerness on the shelf – hidden away for myself or anyone else to see. 

Almost a decade later, at 28 yo, suppressing my sexuality finally caught up with me. I was working in a “welcoming” ministry when the moral dissonance of being a closeted, celibate campus pastor came to a head with the wellbeing of queer students I was working and living life alongside. I saw firsthand what the detriment of non-affirming theology and non-inclusive spaces had on the students, my friends, and myself. I didn’t know what it meant to come out, but I knew I could no longer keep my queerness shelved. 

It has only been four years since I was asked to leave that position. It is a story for another time, but despite how devastating it was for me – I regret nothing. 

Needing answers, I turned back to the internet. Not to confirm whether I was queer or not, but to find other queers that I could connect with, learn from, and hopefully live life alongside. I didn’t fully know what it meant to be queer, but I knew that whatever it looked like, I did not want to attempt it alone. 

I reached back out to longtime friends who embraced me and celebrated my queerness. I met with strangers from online who offered to be queer mentors. I asked any and all of the questions that came to mind: “do I have to cut my hair?” “how much leather do I need to own?” “is it okay if I don’t like Brandi Carlile’s music?” “do I need to make a tinder profile and if so, can’t I just go on one date and then three months later move in with them and eventually marry them?” Most of these questions were rhetorical and my friends kindly refused to answer them anyway. But I still wanted a map, guidelines, and rules to know whether or not I was doing this ‘gay’ thing correctly. 

But it turns out that the very essence of queerness is not fitting into a mold. It does not adhere to a binary of right and wrong or need to match anyone’s expectations. It can be loud, quiet, colorful, monotone, kinky, vanilla, and every expression in between. My journey, while informed by the people I choose to live life with, is for me to decide what feels authentic, what brings me euphoria and joy, and what is life giving for me moment to moment. 

 

I am the author, illustrator, and reader of my own queerness. I can edit and revise how I identify, present, and choose to show up in the world. Queerness is sacred because it allows us to honor our creativeness and ability to change, grow, and evolve. It provides us stability knowing that it is flexible and when pushed against, does not break, but expands to continue holding us firm. 

 

Choosing to explore my sexuality and gender presentation has not only strengthened my mental health, but enriched my faith, brought me a greater sense of wholeness, and a true excitement for being alive. I look forward to continuing to show up, learn, and grow knowing that I can exist as I am without hiding vital aspects of myself.

 

I am queer enough because I choose to flex and bend rather than stay stuck and break. 

 

Reach out if you’d like to share your story, what queerness means to you, or have questions about anything.

And remember, you are not alone and you are absolutely enough. 

 

 

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“Queerness is sacred because it allows us to honor our creativeness and ability to change, grow, and evolve.”