One Christmas, a family member told me, “There’s just something wrong with that.” Kurt and Blaine from Glee were singing "Baby, It’s Cold Outside” together on TV. I thought my family member was referring to the problematic lyrics, but they were referring to two males singing a love song as disgusting. Many people have referred to my sexuality as a “wrong choice” or a “phase,” and over time, it made me wonder—is being gay really that bad? If I am gay, can someone be there for me? Can I still be loved? One of the first moments that I realized I could be loved was one evening at a bar with a friend. I had just met him through a mutual friend. And as he and the other guys planned to pick up some women, our mutual friend mentioned that I was gay. Instantly, this new friend responded, “Great! Let’s find some dudes too!” After years in a rural, conservative upbringing, I thought that I always needed to prove my worth in order to be accepted. And suddenly, I was welcome—no trial needed. That moment helped me develop a theory—even if someone is not instantly compatible with others, they do not always need to prove that they are worthy of another person’s time and energy. And now, I want to cultivate systems that continue to empower LGBTQ+ awareness and positivity by helping clarify the semantics surrounding these terms. As a speech-language pathologist, I will use established practices for improving communication by addressing motor challenges, social challenges, and self-regulation dysfunctions. This education will build on the informal facilitation that I do in my personal relationships. A family member once told me, “This guy is being ‘too gay'!” “No, Gerald,” I responded. “That isn’t how sexuality works. He isn’t being ‘too gay’; he’s being loud in a public space with no expectation to be quiet. Maybe you should have brought headphones if you wanted to work here.” Over several more conversations, that family member learned that he could let others be people rather than an unchanging stereotype. I learned that I could defend someone’s humanity without being too pedantic about all semantics of a language. And for people that I do not meet and grow with face-to-face, I hope that my art can serve them. By performing, composing, and supporting positive stories and storytellers, I hope to expand an audience’s point of view. Content creators can show that gender and sexual minorities can be more than a “Gay Best Friend.” We can demystify perceptions of the LGBTQ+ community by showing that we are more than a mystical, sassy sage whose value is only determined by a connection to someone who is “valid.” We can have a point of view outside of the “acceptable” characters. We can be the “acceptable” characters. We can be loved.

By transitioning into becoming a Speech-Language Pathologist, I hope to capacitate others to have more attuned dialogue just like my idol, Neuroscientist Lisa Feldman Barrett. In her books, she makes brain data accessible to casual brain users or rigorous researchers—anyone who wants to learn. She also works with Playground of Empathy which aims towards cultivating a global community of emotional awareness. As the name suggests, it is an all-inclusive playground that is part entertainment, part immersive gaming, part interactive tech, and part behavioral exploration and that serves to capacitate individuals to better co-regulate with others through cultivating empathy.

“You are going to meet such a nice girl someday,” some older women once told me at the end of the church service. “You play piano and sing so well. You’re just gonna make someone so happy.” (Apparently, me playing piano and singing was what would determine my partner’s happiness.) At this same church, a congregation member asked me to sign a petition against same-sex marriage because they also may not have realized that I was gay” “Give me one moment,” I responded. “I just remembered that my Dad and I might have forgotten something.” I quickly convinced my Dad that it was time to leave, and then we left. I went home to where I would occasionally hear some relatives point out how “there’s just something wrong with two men kissing one another.” At school in the locker rooms, other student-athletes would say that “faggots” should get what they deserve--getting beat up or hit--because by existing they are coming on to another man. Whenever my sexuality was questioned, I distracted them through lies, luck, or maybe a combination of those and other factors. I was not “gay,” but studious. The reason that I gave for not dating the women that others said were interesting was that I needed to focus on balancing playing sports and completing school assignments. I did not have time for dating. I dodged and danced many questions surrounding my sexuality until I reached a new environment where I believed that I could explore my sexuality, but unfortunately, a mindset had solidified. After faking being straight for years, I could not flip a switch and believe that my “gay” senses were acceptable. For years after coming out, I still struggled to comprehend how “gay” sexuality could define a person’s worth in several areas beyond dating. It was more acceptable to be studious than “gay.” It is better to be fit than gay—as though fitness level could exclude sexuality. I later threw myself into a job because being a capable swim teacher and lifeguard brought praise instead of criticism. The factors that would determine gaining social approval felt completely arbitrary and not objectively defined or evaluated, and my body did not care. I found myself thinking, “Self. You haven’t proven that your sexuality is acceptable. How can you try dating when you are still wrong? Go out and solve a real problem before pursuing degenerate behavior. That is what will allow you to be worthy to try dating.” Those thoughts did not make sense in my new environment. People would explicitly express that being “gay” was “okay,” but my body did not believe them. I felt stuck believing the world as I had experienced through other people’s eyes. Being “gay” was wrong and must always be atoned for. It took years of learning, unlearning, and exploring to reconnect into my thoughts and sense of self securely. Believing that being “gay” made me fundamentally wrong blinded me to how people do not always clearly define their words. People (including myself) would point my senses and attention towards what they believed this label “gay” represented and how this sexuality would influence my efforts and survival. When others expressed the wrongness of being “gay,” their language often only referenced their life as the source of why my life and choices were wrong. No objective verification determined what it meant for someone to be “right” or “wrong.” Their words represented a framing of their narrative—years investing in what they believed “real men'' were supposed to have and to do to survive in a community. And I was different. My “gayness” could be framed as dangerous to them because it was a tactic not verified for their survival. Their choice to deny someone “gay” the right to belong stemmed not from a verified system of evaluation, but from their biases and beliefs. Any person’s word system orients around what they believe is the best way to survive, and people do not always allow another person a chance to have their own beliefs. Learning how to manage one’s time, resources, and efforts to survive can already be challenging. When that journey is paired with believing that something is wrong with someone’s senses, life gets harder. My life has been fairly easy still as well. I have never been kicked out of my home or disowned for being “gay.” I have never been beaten up. I only internally struggled for years to believe I could belong. It was a struggle, but it could have been much worse. That hardship expanded my eyes into some of the world’s complexities and unfairness, and thankfully, this story ended in a happy discovery. I learned that the word “gay” has many more meanings than only “wrong or outside of the desired norm especially in terms of sexuality.” Sometimes that word means part animal. A gay man can be labeled a bear, an otter, or a cub. Some “gay” individuals are part plant—labeled as acting “fruity.” Being “gay” automatically makes someone a “friend of Dorothy.” It is not always clear whether Dorothy is a good friend, but someone who is gay has another friend! (They say her thoughts are “over the rainbow.”) Sometimes, a person can be “gay” but not homosexual. If a male expresses slightly more than platonic emotions for another man, by saying “no homo,” he then eliminates the possibility of that moment having been a sex-sex attraction or relational moment. Some people call gays (or anyone else that identifies as LGBTQIA+) as part of the “alphabet mafia.” The “gay” definition continually evolves and expands in new contexts. I do not know if any of these forms of “gay” match with me, but I know that I do not need to fake being “straight” anymore (whatever that means). I can be “gay” and put my own spin on this word.