Jokingly, I like to boast to my friends that I have identified with every letter of LGBTQ+ in my lifetime. Many of those same friends have watched me question my sexuality beginning in the seventh grade, and continue on to question my gender starting in eighth grade. To run through every combination of labels I have considered mine would take ages, and most labels never stuck around long. This leaves one question: what happened between identifying as a pansexual transgender man and a nonbinary bisexual individual that I can share as a lesson for LGBTQ+ folk and allies alike? Steadily, our communities are growing more inclusive, and it has become more commonplace to talk about sexuality and gender identities. While this is a success in theory, it poses a conflict for many people. For some, sharing their identity can be exciting, important, refreshing, validating, or any combination of these. For others, though, identity has too many considerations to disclose in a casual social setting. Identity is primarily communicated through labels, and labeling one's own identity is very convoluted and confusing to many people. Sometimes taking time to explore labels works out, but sometimes the idea of a label doesn't feel right at all. This can leave a feeling of dejection and not belonging--what community is yours if you don't have the label to assign you to similar people? However, this progression in inclusivity is still a success, which makes it difficult to criticize. No one, including myself, wants to admit that the achievement that generations of people worked towards ended up hurting people in their own community, especially because it helps many people. Now, when people ask me how I identify, I answer that I consider myself nonbinary and bisexual. Like all the identities before, this never feels quite right. Using these labels allow others to feel comfortable in knowing who I am, but they come at a cost to my sense of self. For me, labels are a concrete conjuration of an abstract idea. The shadows on the cave wall are not the actual objects, and the labels I put on myself are not my identity. In my future, I strive to work with LGBTQ+ individuals and help them come to better understand themselves and their identities. I hope to reach a point in my career where I am able to help young LGBTQ+ folk. People who are blindly reaching for a label that fits them; those who need to hear what I needed to hear all those years ago: it is okay not to know.

1. I deserve this scholarship because my parents offered to help pay for my college degree as long as I did not get a job and chose to focus on school. I then chose to get a job, because I am "self-sufficient". 2. My academic goals are to complete a degree in psychology so I can diagnose myself and all my friends with the mental illnesses we are developing from living through a global pandemic. 3. I overcame the obstacle of wanting to get a useful degree with a promising future by dropping a core class mid-semester because I was failing said class.