What Pride Month Means to Me

When I was 15, a boy asked me who my celebrity crush was. I opened my mouth to answer, but then I froze. I was supposed to say the name of a man. I was expected to. So when images of Rowan Blanchard and Zendaya flashed through my mind, I was confused. To be fair, I was a child. Confusion comes with that. The boy kept staring at me. Eventually, I just blurted out a random actor’s name and walked away.

Before, I thought I loved those women because I wanted to be them. The boy’s question made me realize the truth: I wanted to be with them. This didn’t make sense to me. I had dated boys in the past and I still felt attracted to them, too. How could both be true?

To this day, I both admire and loathe that memory. That was the exact moment when I started to question my sexuality. That was the exact moment when my life became torture.

Realizing that I wasn’t straight should have been the best day of my life. I was figuring out who I was in this world. But instead of celebrating, I spiraled into a deep depression that I am still trying to break out of. Instead of celebrating, I had to tell myself that I could never date a woman. If I did, I would lose my entire family.

My parents had been homophobic around me many times before that day. If two men were kissing on TV, they would say how disgusting it was and tell me that they belong in hell. My father even explained once how he wanted to murder every gay person. I felt alone and defenseless. My relationship with my father was already strained, so I knew that coming out to him would be the end of it. To this day, I still haven’t told him. I ended up telling my mom, but she still pretends like I never did. Whenever I hear her say something to the effect of me being straight, a part of me breaks.

My best friend smiled when I came out to her. Still, I was sobbing and terrified. The fear of rejection and hatred simmered inside of me.

I know my fear is grounded in reality. The other day, I listened to a podcast about two teenage girls who were so in love with each other and were my age — 18. I wish I could say that there was a happy ending, but the story ended with them inside a body bag. They were tied up and shot by a random man. He said that he saw them holding hands. He murdered two girls because they loved each other. I wish I could say that this didn’t affect me much, but it did.

Their story is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to hate crimes against the LGBTQ community. I mean, just watch the news, the headlines are endless: Casualties at a gay nightclub. Attack on a gay couple. Murder of a gay college student. The headlines are endless. In fact, LGBT people are nearly four times more likely than non-LGBT people to experience violent victimization, including rape, sexual assault, and aggravated or simple assault, and nearly half of these attacks go unreported, so we aren’t even aware of most of these crimes.

So how can someone outside of the LGBTQ+ community help those in it? Be an advocate. If you hear someone saying something dangerous, shut it down. Educate people. Be aware of possible threats to the community.

Those within the community should take advantage of resources like The Trevor Project, which provides round-the-clock counseling services and support to LGBTQ youth. The organization did a study that showed one in three (33%) LGBTQ college students seriously considered suicide in the past year, and 7% reported a suicide attempt in the past year. Another study found that LGBTQ college students with access to mental health services through their college had 84% lower odds of attempting suicide in the past year compared to LGBTQ college students without access. People need access to these services. It could save so many lives.

Three years ago, I discovered that I was a part of one of the strongest communities in the world. Despite everything that I have been through personally and the troubles that I am still facing, I am proud. So many people just like me have lost their lives because of who they are. I have to keep fighting for them. Everyone does. If someone comes out to you, just smile. Tell them that they are safe and loved. I wish my parents would have done that. I wish that I didn’t have to hide from my family. I wish that I wasn’t scared to fall in love. Perhaps the most important thing that you can do is love. That’s it. That is the moral of the entire story: just love.