When I would attend my high school’s Gay–Straight Alliance group, the room would almost be entirely filled with white folks.
This would be something I would learn to expect in every queer space I’d ever enter.
I thought I was an outlier; I thought I was supposed to try to be white if I wanted to accept my queerness.
It didn’t occur to me that there were other queer POC hiding too.
By nine, I was sure that my brown skin made me ugly.My mother cried and told my therapist that I needed help “figuring things out.” After that, sexuality became a topic that was skipped over, although sleepovers weren’t allowed in my house again until I eventually promised her it was just a phase.