June 14th marks the first time I purchased a Pride flag and saw, but did not visit, a gay bar. Needless to say it was one of my 'gayer' moments since coming out. For those of you who do not know, and somehow have managed to stay off of Snapchat, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram for the past 16 days, it's Pride Month! 30 days of celebrating specifically diversity in sexuality and gender identity, the struggle of those who sparked the LGBTQ+ movement, and love for others and one's self. In spirit of this colorful month of visibility, I wanted to buy a Pride flag whilst I was with my friends on a trip to the beach. On our way back from a calm morning at the beach, we went to a small town that was about the gayest place I have ever been. I could practically go to any store and find a rainbow flag. The iconic symbol of sanctuary and love for all sexualities, gender identities, and allies. I've never really been exposed too much to the LGBTQ+ community in any way, shape or form. Mainly because of my family and their strict, backward beliefs regarding homosexuality. I grew up in what seemed like an atheist family at the time. But then one thing led to another and we became devout Christians. Not as devout as I had previously thought. We ended up switching faiths several times (I explain that here). Around the time I began the infamous period of 'blossoming adolescence,' or puberty, I began thinking about my sexuality. It was really the only time I actually understood what it meant to be attracted to someone. Unfortunately, by this time I was taught to view anything but heterosexuality as sinful. Keep in mind, at the time I only knew of homosexuality; the gays and the lesbians. You know, 'those people.' I actively preached my opinions regarding the sexual spectrum. I use 'my' loosely because it was how I used to think, when all I based my ideals on was the lessons I learned form my immediate family whilst growing up. Like my family, I thought I could love gay people, but shame their "homosexual desires." One of the most ironic things I could have ever said to people when they asked me about my morals regarding homosexuality was: "I love gay people, but I do not approve of how they love." Now I see that love is acceptance not tolerance, and what my family was teaching me was hardly even that. It was one of the first episodes of the MTV comedy series, Awkward, that helped me realize my ignorance. I will not be excessive with details, but essentially these two characters of opposite sex were engaging in intercourse while in a broom closet of their school. Why? I don't know. I guess all teenagers are just overtly horny? Anyways, that was the first time I felt as if I was sexually attracted to another person. But as awkward as this story might seem–it's as difficult to type and publish as I'm sure it is to read–I felt only shame and embarrassment. It was the first time I thought I might be gay. In my family it was sinful to view other women sexually, which also included during masturbation. But my issue was more in trying to convince myself that what I found more interesting was the female end of the 'partnership.' Which meant first convincing myself that I was straight, which led to me deliberately trying to sexualize women so that I could like them, which later led me to feel depressed because I was constantly sining, until I would look at a man sexually and the cycle would start all over again. Mentally, I was subduing myself to endure my own form of conversion therapy. Hours were spent reading forums on straight men who "had a gay phase," asking how long those phases were, going onto medical websites asking if homosexuality was a kind of side effect of puberty. I was scared to be alone with other men, not because I was attracted to them, but because I was scared it would make me more gay. I spent more time around women, feeding into my family's stereotypical perception of what it means when a boy is surrounded by girls. Meaning I held an illusive image of being a playboy. Gross. I felt defeated. Signs pointed to my demise and inevitable sentence to hell. I was incapable of being saved, despite my church's constant reminder that nothing is incurable when it comes to sin and the Lord's striking resemblance to Mr. Clean. "Powerful enough to remove even the toughest of sins." I viewed my situation as a disease rather than a natural phenomenon; a weak will power, incapable of resisting wild male hormones (because you know how boys get with their testosterone). In my eyes, it was an inhibitor of love rather than just that. So for me now to be so sure of myself, it's lovely. I felt a wave of relief wash over me after the second time I uttered the words, "I am gay." The first time wasn't as pleasant; it was more of a shameful whisper. In my family, praying to an all powerful creator is what you do when you have failed yourself. It is placing your troubles into the hands of the one man who can correct all wrongs. So that's what I did. I failed to be straight. I failed to be someone I was not, and so I felt guilty. It was on my knees that I cried in a hushed voice, "I am gay, please help me." So now, holding a Pride flag means so much. It's a reminder of where I started and where I've gotten in regards to acceptance, love, and visibility. Three aspects of the healthy relationship I've grown to have with myself. Being able to fully accept this part of me, loving myself and those around me despite our differences, and being able to outwardly express my personality without fear of persecution from family or even myself. Coming to the point of acceptance took longer than I would have preferred, but because I didn't rush, because I endured solemn trials of self discovery, because I worked to make myself happy, I am now more sure of myself then I could have ever imagined. I am more aware of how and when I need to think and take care of myself first. My ideals and beliefs are more my own and not those of my family. My heart no longer feels restrained and my mind no longer feels complacent nor helpless. When I bought that flag I immediately thought about sharing this story to my blog. I don't like keeping these things to myself, but it's also difficult for me to share this kind of thing with other people. Nonetheless, when I was searching for help, one pride flag could have made a significant difference. Visibility is important to me. It differentiates those who tolerate from those who accept the LGBTQ+ community, it's a light for struggling LGBTQ+ youth and community members, and it's reassuring seeing that, no matter how you identify, there is a place that looks at you no differently. So raise those pride flags high! Stay safe, stay purely yourself, and wear your pink beanies proudly. Love y'all.
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