Growing up as a queer woman in the deep South sounds like a horror story. “Why do you like girls?”, “I could turn you straight”, and “Y’know you’re going to hell, right?” are so ingrained into my psyche that I have a fight-or-flight-type response every time I see a white man with sagging shorts and a buzz cut within 50 feet of me. It's scary, having to dread being accosted by a churchgoer or a redneck whenever I walk outside wearing anything resembling a rainbow. Living in a place where slurs are thrown out regularly, baked into children’s vocabularies to the point that they don’t even realize they’re being offensive, is so surreal. I’ve had friends over the years casually use the f-slur in conversations and then struggle to understand why I was so taken aback. When I was in 1st grade my family moved from Oregon to Tennessee, which is a very big tonal shift. I had to adapt quickly to the intense religious consensus the entire state operated on, up to and including their view on homosexuality. Which meant that I was absolutely petrified upon realizing I fell into the "sinner" category. In 7th grade, I came out as lesbian to a supportive mother and a not-so supportive father. My mother has been my biggest advocator, constantly supporting me and telling me I am loved. Since my initial coming out, I've come out to my father 3 more times, each consisting of a lot of yelling, and swiftly followed by an air of defeat and the silent understanding that this shouldn't be brought up again. His stance of homosexuality can be attributed to his heavy religious beliefs and background. My parents are both Christian, but while my mother is more flexible in her faith and centered more on spirituality, my father is extremely zealous and obstinate in his beliefs. This has made it very difficult to talk about that part of myself openly in his home. My stepmother, who married into our family in 2022, doesn't even know about this part of me because the subject is so taboo. Because of my environment, I've had to come to terms with a lot of things. I've had to come to terms with the fact that my family may disown me. I've had to come to terms with the fact I might not be in my younger cousins' lives anymore. I've had to come to terms with the fact my father will not be at my wedding. And I've had to come to terms with the fact that I will probably be ridiculed for who I love for the rest of my life. But I've also had to come to terms with the fact that these things cannot be ignored. My father believes that unsavory things should be left in the dark. But I believe talking about hard things is important, and writing is my way of doing that. And that can take shape through multiple mediums: novels, articles, poems, plays, etc. I've experimented with every type, and it's something I've found I want to pursue. I've been writing short stories since I was in 4th grade, and these past few years I've won awards for plays I've written. I think it's so remarkable how, whether you tell an epic tale or cover a recent event, you can impact a person to take a stand and fight for what they love. You can shine a light on hard-to-swallow topics. I want to make people feel PROUD of who they are, and let them know it's okay to not hide away.