At 6 I was put inside an empty sack of rice, then hanged on the ceiling until I hyperventilated - all because my dad caught me wearing my mum's heels. At 7 I was tied to the knob of our front door, dressed in my mum's maxi with full make up on - for all the world to see. Why? To humiliate me? Definitely. To try and change me? Absolutely. Did it work? Yes, but not in the way he wanted.
It pushed me to the closet. A dark and damp place where only my thoughts accompanied me. At 14, I slit my wrists several times, praying to be taken from this life. To unburden the family that didn't seem to want me. For all the courage I mustered to cut myself, I never once harmed myself seriously enough to land me in the hospital. I was still terrified at the thought of dying.
It was a proverbial awkward years in high school, trying to find where and how I fit in. Everyone knew I was gay though I kept denying it; to myself and to others. But how can one deny such an obvious fact when he breathes glitter and exhales rainbows? No, it was a frail attempt to convince myself that I was like everyone else - "normal." What does that mean anyway? To be "normal?"
At 16, I fell in love for the first time, with a boy 3 years my senior. It was what anyone would usually expect his/her first time to be - a whirlwind romance. I fell so hard and so deep that I completely lost myself. I couldn't help it because I have always craved and longed for the love and attention that I didn't get at home. Now there was finally someone who paid me more attention and showed me affection more than anything that I have ever experienced. I drowned in the illusion that it was the ever after that I was dreaming of. It wasn't. It was rather an awakening of sorts. It taught me what pain and sorrow are.
More importantly, the grief that that experience caused me was so immense that it broke me to pieces. Looking back now, I am grateful that it did. By breaking me, I was able to build up and reinvent myself as a level headed individual. I slowly picked myself up and gradually found the strength I had inside me which allowed me to gain self-esteem. I capitalized on that learning and utilized that confidence to my advantage. With this newly-found sense of self I was able to discover my potentials and made use of this confidence to achieve my goals - something I have never been able to do before his juncture in my life.
While it was an empowering experience, I was not as quick to be up on my feet just yet. I hopped on from one failed relationship to another and fell just as hard as the one before. The longing to love and be loved in return was unbearable because I was in a constant state of wanting to be held and affirmed. Truth be told, it doesn't matter how many times you get hurt, you will never get used to the pain. Every heart break will feel as painful as the first time because every time we love always feels like the first time.
The ensuing years weren't kind either. I managed to come out of the closet and proud of who I was but coming out doesn't always come with a happy ending. Acceptance was tremendously regarded as a rarity much like a unicorn. I settled for tolerance. While we have come far in our understanding of the LGBTQI+ community, there still remains a large space to fill.
I am however, truly grateful for having been granted the opportunity to discover my true self in an atmosphere of acceptance and critical thinking. At uni, my social circles were massively accepting people who did not regard me as an object that needed to be labeled. I was taken as a person like we all are with no incessant need to define my sexuality. They cared more about my persona rather than who I went to bed with because to them I was for all intents and purposes "normal," Uni was a safe bubble where I was free to be me undaunted by dissenting opinions because we catered to diversity as it propelled critical thinking and progressive thought.
Every bubble bursts eventually and mine found its end when I graduated. Then I joined the "real" world. I realized that it wasn't any different from the world of my childhood. It was still unforgiving, cut-throat, kill or be killed kind of world. Survival meant that you have to assimilate into prescribed gender roles or face social banishment for being "different." Sadly, I regressed and found myself back in my closet. It was a different closet this time, more of an upgraded model with several compartments where I could divide myself and appropriate the parts to where they fit. There's one for work, home, friends and another for everyone else. It's regrettable and frustrating to say the least that I am back in the closet in my 30s. I should've found complete peace within myself by now. I haven't. How can I? How can anyone when you wake up to news of hangings, beheading and public executions, even worse - mass shootings: on the basis of gender.
No one should be afraid to get up and go out into world for fear of getting killed just because they're different. Sadly, no one is safe in this cruel world. Instead of uniting, we have created more labels, factions and divisions ultimately creating more reasons to hate each other. Is fighting an intrinsic part of us as a specie? I surely hope it isn't.
xoxo
QB
It pushed me to the closet. A dark and damp place where only my thoughts accompanied me. At 14, I slit my wrists several times, praying to be taken from this life. To unburden the family that didn't seem to want me. For all the courage I mustered to cut myself, I never once harmed myself seriously enough to land me in the hospital. I was still terrified at the thought of dying.
It was a proverbial awkward years in high school, trying to find where and how I fit in. Everyone knew I was gay though I kept denying it; to myself and to others. But how can one deny such an obvious fact when he breathes glitter and exhales rainbows? No, it was a frail attempt to convince myself that I was like everyone else - "normal." What does that mean anyway? To be "normal?"
At 16, I fell in love for the first time, with a boy 3 years my senior. It was what anyone would usually expect his/her first time to be - a whirlwind romance. I fell so hard and so deep that I completely lost myself. I couldn't help it because I have always craved and longed for the love and attention that I didn't get at home. Now there was finally someone who paid me more attention and showed me affection more than anything that I have ever experienced. I drowned in the illusion that it was the ever after that I was dreaming of. It wasn't. It was rather an awakening of sorts. It taught me what pain and sorrow are.
More importantly, the grief that that experience caused me was so immense that it broke me to pieces. Looking back now, I am grateful that it did. By breaking me, I was able to build up and reinvent myself as a level headed individual. I slowly picked myself up and gradually found the strength I had inside me which allowed me to gain self-esteem. I capitalized on that learning and utilized that confidence to my advantage. With this newly-found sense of self I was able to discover my potentials and made use of this confidence to achieve my goals - something I have never been able to do before his juncture in my life.
While it was an empowering experience, I was not as quick to be up on my feet just yet. I hopped on from one failed relationship to another and fell just as hard as the one before. The longing to love and be loved in return was unbearable because I was in a constant state of wanting to be held and affirmed. Truth be told, it doesn't matter how many times you get hurt, you will never get used to the pain. Every heart break will feel as painful as the first time because every time we love always feels like the first time.
The ensuing years weren't kind either. I managed to come out of the closet and proud of who I was but coming out doesn't always come with a happy ending. Acceptance was tremendously regarded as a rarity much like a unicorn. I settled for tolerance. While we have come far in our understanding of the LGBTQI+ community, there still remains a large space to fill.
I am however, truly grateful for having been granted the opportunity to discover my true self in an atmosphere of acceptance and critical thinking. At uni, my social circles were massively accepting people who did not regard me as an object that needed to be labeled. I was taken as a person like we all are with no incessant need to define my sexuality. They cared more about my persona rather than who I went to bed with because to them I was for all intents and purposes "normal," Uni was a safe bubble where I was free to be me undaunted by dissenting opinions because we catered to diversity as it propelled critical thinking and progressive thought.
Every bubble bursts eventually and mine found its end when I graduated. Then I joined the "real" world. I realized that it wasn't any different from the world of my childhood. It was still unforgiving, cut-throat, kill or be killed kind of world. Survival meant that you have to assimilate into prescribed gender roles or face social banishment for being "different." Sadly, I regressed and found myself back in my closet. It was a different closet this time, more of an upgraded model with several compartments where I could divide myself and appropriate the parts to where they fit. There's one for work, home, friends and another for everyone else. It's regrettable and frustrating to say the least that I am back in the closet in my 30s. I should've found complete peace within myself by now. I haven't. How can I? How can anyone when you wake up to news of hangings, beheading and public executions, even worse - mass shootings: on the basis of gender.
No one should be afraid to get up and go out into world for fear of getting killed just because they're different. Sadly, no one is safe in this cruel world. Instead of uniting, we have created more labels, factions and divisions ultimately creating more reasons to hate each other. Is fighting an intrinsic part of us as a specie? I surely hope it isn't.
xoxo
QB
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