Maybe I Should Assume Everyone Thinks I’m Gay
Navigating coming out when your sexuality is invisible.
Oh, how I envy my visibly queer siblings. The butches whose shaved head or button-down shirt can declare their sexual preference without a need for words. Androgynous deities who scoff in the face of binaries and make us all realize desire can be fluid. Or the fearless femmes from all over the gender spectrum who challenge fashion trends, or frankly, start them.
Today, visible queerness can look like many different things. As someone who has been in the LGBTQ community for over a decade, I’ve grown to recognize even the subtlest of rainbow cues. When I was younger, I went so far as to change how I looked so that I too could be seen for who I loved.
For a year, I experienced what it was like to be visibly queer.
After trading heels for combat boots and cutting off all my hair, I expected to be at peace. Rather than feeling like I’d been found, I felt even further from who I truly was. Though my sexuality was visible, my personality was not. It didn’t take long for me to revert back into my previous gender presentation. I deeply enjoy channeling femininity. It makes me feel like the ocean, a turbulent and powerful force of nature.
