I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading about the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. I wanted nothing more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin is the leader who has clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. Although I love being a Slytherin with every part of my being, it is not the only thing that fuels my obsession with the franchise. I love the characters. They are individuals with lives, passions, and goals. Each one of them was not meant to be cookie-cutter or basic. They had purposes. Throughout the seven books, the characters grow more as people and the reader grows with them. My favorite character is Draco Malfoy. Besides my huge crush on him, he is an example of the fantastic character development we get to witness, to which every second I can relate. As a child, he did everything in his power to please his parents, everything. As he aged, the emotional toll from constantly trying to be the golden child started to weigh on him until he eventually broke. I understood his pain and could feel it too, a special child fighting to live up to standard until you eventually fall. He went through a classic case of “gifted kid burnout” but was not granted a chance to prove himself, a redemption arc. Draco is my “comfort character” because we are the same. His story is mine. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go because to let go is to stop believing and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia toward myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, and I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is a part of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she too they/them finally ending with her/them. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being, but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college, but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian, but I know how to handle my mom, so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago, and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree, I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was terrible and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t me. I was putting on a charade in front of my blood. So, I came out. I planned to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love and the world must remember that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading about the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin are the leaders who have clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. Although I love being a Slytherin with every part of my being, it is not the only thing that fuels my obsession with the franchise. I love the characters. They are individuals with lives, passions, and goals. Each one of them was not meant to be cookie-cutter or basic. They had purposes. Throughout the seven books, the characters grow more as people and the reader grows with them. My favorite character is Draco Malfoy. Besides my huge crush on him, he is an example of the fantastic character development we get to witness, to which every second I can relate to. As a child, he did everything in his power to please his parents, everything. As he aged, the emotional toll from constantly trying to be the golden child started to weigh on him until he eventually broke. I understood his pain and could feel it too, a special child fighting to live up to standard until you eventually fall. He went through a classic case of “gifted kid burnout” but was not granted a chance to prove himself, a redemption arc. Draco is my “comfort character” because we are one and the same. His story is mine. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go because to let go is to stop believing and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

In the future, I see myself with a law firm that I built from the ground up that gladly does pro bono work representing those who cannot afford adequate representation and where I have hired people from all kinds of backgrounds such as LGBTQ+, Muslim, and POC, and with student interns from foster care who haven't been given the chance that they deserve.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia toward myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, and I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is a part of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a black Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others. I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, and I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is a part of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia toward myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, and I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is a part of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia toward myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, and I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is a part of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia toward myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, and I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is a part of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul. To do all of I need to first be able to afford schooling. I need scholarships to be able to afford the classes and resources needed to get an amazing education. My mother can not afford to send me to school on just her income and she is alone. I would have to take out loans to avoid being a burden on her finances while she has her and my younger mentally disabled brother to care for. Scholarships will save me and my family from sufferings and allow me to go on the path to relieve the sufferings of others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside of this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing so masculine? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them, finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother. Apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that your preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing so masculine? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school, my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them, finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother. Apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that your preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a Christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on the screen. Whenever anything queer-related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me to hear them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing so masculine? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer to any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I was not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I was not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad and that you do, in fact, like girls? Every day felt like being trapped inside this shell that wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was lying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently, my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin are the leaders who have clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go, because to let go is to stop believing, and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for either of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

Evol Every Sunday I had to get up & go to church Who wanna wake up on a Sunday morning to go into a building filled wit screaming people Especially when you don’t share their beliefs See I was always the odd one out Vegetarian, activist, lowkey witch, I actually enjoy One Direction Middle child tingzz It’s weird though because I have to sit here and pretend to share these peoples beliefs I have to pretend to love their God I have to pretend to accept this Bible IM DONE PRETENDING I AM the wolf in sheep’s clothing Ready to tear apart this facade from the inside out I am the beast my family has wrapped in chains to avoid becoming gossip I AM THE WOLF All the suffering this mistranslated and edited book has brought me All the pain it has justified These toxic words planted like seeds into the thin rows I have hoed into my skin But the only crops that will sprout is the stalks of insecurities and depression Jesus is not the only one who has bled for these pages Forced to my knees to pray away the demons but the only demons that are there are the ones I created Their names are Anxiety, Depression, and Unknown Unknown is my favorite See she’s always there for me but not in a good way She’s always talking and won’t shut up There’s so much space she takes up but that leaves no room for me Her name is Unknown because I’ve never met her in person See instead of seeing a psychiatrist i gotta talk to God about it. I didn’t know he had his doctorate I don’t understand Ephesians 6:5 “Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ.” Over 400 years of torment justified with one line Leviticus 18:22 “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.” The abuse and persecution of LGBTQ+ people justified This Bible has caused the bloodshed of millions yet we cheer at the preaching of its scripture This some backwards love Hol up Somebody explain sumn to me real quick Why are we listening to the teachings of a book written by old men who thought marrying a 14 year old girl was normal? Hol up Why are we bowing down to a man in the sky none of us has ever heard from or seen Hol up Am i the fuck that look like? No for real for real seriously am i? Cuz if I am a queen, what the FUCK do I look like getting on my knees for somebody? See here’s how this is gonna go Imma write my OWN bible Imma follow my own teachings See I wasn’t put here to go to church every Sunday and scream hallelujah when I didn’t even understand the scripture I wasn’t put here to be on my knees either Ion got time for no kinds of backwards love I’m here to rule and that’s exactly what imma do

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul

Evol Every Sunday I had to get up & go to church Who wanna wake up on a Sunday morning to go into a building filled wit screaming people Especially when you don’t share their beliefs See I was always the odd one out Vegetarian, activist, lowkey witch, I actually enjoy One Direction Middle child tingzz It’s weird though because I have to sit here and pretend to share these peoples beliefs I have to pretend to love their God I have to pretend to accept this Bible IM DONE PRETENDING I AM the wolf in sheep’s clothing Ready to tear apart this facade from the inside out I am the beast my family has wrapped in chains to avoid becoming gossip I AM THE WOLF All the suffering this mistranslated and edited book has brought me All the pain it has justified These toxic words planted like seeds into the thin rows I have hoed into my skin But the only crops that will sprout is the stalks of insecurities and depression Jesus is not the only one who has bled for these pages Forced to my knees to pray away the demons but the only demons that are there are the ones I created Their names are Anxiety, Depression, and Unknown Unknown is my favorite See she’s always there for me but not in a good way She’s always talking and won’t shut up There’s so much space she takes up but that leaves no room for me Her name is Unknown because I’ve never met her in person See instead of seeing a psychiatrist i gotta talk to God about it. I didn’t know he had his doctorate I don’t understand Ephesians 6:5 “Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ.” Over 400 years of torment justified with one line Leviticus 18:22 “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.” The abuse and persecution of LGBTQ+ people justified This Bible has caused the bloodshed of millions yet we cheer at the preaching of its scripture This some backwards love Hol up Somebody explain sumn to me real quick Why are we listening to the teachings of a book written by old men who thought marrying a 14 year old girl was normal? Hol up Why are we bowing down to a man in the sky none of us has ever heard from or seen Hol up Am i the fuck that look like? No for real for real seriously am i? Cuz if I am a queen, what the FUCK do I look like getting on my knees for somebody? See here’s how this is gonna go Imma write my OWN bible Imma follow my own teachings See I wasn’t put here to go to church every Sunday and scream hallelujah when I didn’t even understand the scripture I wasn’t put here to be on my knees either Ion got time for no kinds of backwards love I’m here to rule and that’s exactly what imma do

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house. I told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

My name is Star. I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. I told my mom, the woman who named me, first. We were laying in bed at my grandma’s house and I said to her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys, right?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. My star-shine will help the world remember that. I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show them that you’re preference and pronouns do not dim their light. We are all stars.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. I am grateful to have such an accepting mother despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I had been in the closet for six years. This year, I finally came out. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have internalized homophobia towards myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Throughout this journey, writing was my outlet. I wrote short stories with queer main characters, I wrote poetry on my sexuality, I used a pencil to transfer my soul onto paper. What I couldn’t say, I wrote. My tears were my ink and my strength was my quill. I write because I have to, it is apart of my story and who I am. I write so when my mouth is muzzled my heart can speak. Writing opens a tunnel of communication between your soul and your imagination and I intend on opening that tunnel for others.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

I have been in the closet for six years. I was raised to think that liking the same sex or having a different gender expression was demonic, a sin deserving of eternal torture. If that is the case, I am a sinner. Growing up in a christian household, I would always hear disgust when anything LGBTQ+ related would appear on screen. Whenever anything queer related arose I felt like I was fighting for my life to try and educate my parents. It hurt me hearing them hurt others because I saw myself in those people. I grew to have so much internalized homophobia because of my environment, lack of education on gender preferences, and hating myself. Why did I like girls? Why did I like dressing as a boy? Why do I become fueled with excitement seeing queer representation on TV? I didn’t have the answer for any of these questions, so I cried, all night until my eyes were sealed shut by tears, begging God to fix me or kill me. When I started high school my world had grown. I had queer friends, I learned that being heterosexual wasn’t the default, and I unlearned all the ignorance that I was taught. Junior year, I realized that I’m not at all straight. I didn’t know what color my flag was yet, but I knew it wasn’t black and white. Senior year, I began to realize I’m not resonating with she/her. Dressing feminine is great, I love my body, but I felt something was missing. From that point on, I started exploring different pronouns, starting with they/she to they/them finally ending with she/they. My friends were so supportive during my journey of finding myself and even started using my chosen name, Bean, interchangeably with my birth name. Despite this love and support from my friends, I was still in the closet with my family. I wanted to tell them with every ounce of my being but I didn’t know how. How do you tell your Christian parents who raised you that being gay was bad that you do, in fact, like girls? Everyday felt like being trapped inside of this shell who wasn’t really me. I was putting on a charade in front of my own blood. So, I came out. My plan was to come out after I moved out for college but I couldn’t wait. It happened when I was laying in bed with my mom at my grandma’s house and I just told her “Momma, you know I like girls and boys?” Her reaction was what you would expect from a country Christian but I know how to handle my mom so it quickly turned loving and accepting. “You’re the same person you were two minutes ago and I still love you.” Those words will forever mean so much to me. Later I came out to my cousins and big brother, apparently my big brother already knew. My father hasn’t been told by me yet but I’m sure my mother spilled everything. I am grateful to have such an accepting family despite my upbringing. My mother is learning to be accepting and kind through raising me. In learning to love myself, I learned that it’s okay to love others. Love is love is love and it is important the world remembers that. With the political science degree I will graduate with, I plan on going on to law school so I can do pro bono work for LGBTQ+ disenfranchised youth and show the world that you’re preference and pronouns do not change your soul.

During my sophomore year of high school, I attended a small hotel party my best friend’s sixteenth birthday. When we returned to the hotel from our literal run to Zaxby’s, I made the grave mistake of being the first to go to the bathroom. I could hear the girls outside the bathroom scheming like heathens, so I knew as soon as I opened that door it would be war. As soon as I opened the door, I was ambushed, attacked by weapons of fluff, pillows were flying everywhere. Once they were satisfied with their attack, we prepared for bed. It was around 2am when one of the guests woke up to use the bathroom but noticed a bed bug upon her pillow. She decided to wake the rest of us up and inform us. All the girls sprung out of bed and checked ourselves to ensure that none of the disgusting creatures were lingering onto us. We had no idea what to do, so naturally my best friend called her mom. We had to relocate to another room and hope there were no bugs in our belongings. The next morning, we were bored. Instead of staying inside and playing truth or dare like normal teenagers, we decided to get dressed, and run in the pouring rain, across fields, all the way to Goodwill. There was nothing from Goodwill we needed but it gave us something to do. All of us wandered and browsed then ran right back through the rain to the hotel. Our clothes were soaked, we were cold, and I lost an earring, but it was worth it. It is a miracle none of us got sick.

I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin are the leaders who have clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. Although I love being a Slytherin with every part of my being, it is not the only thing that fuels my obsession with the franchise. I love the characters. They are individuals with lives, passions, and goals. Each one of them were not meant to be cookie-cutter or basic. They had purposes. Throughout the seven books, the characters grow more as people and the reader grows with them. My favorite character is Draco Malfoy. Besides my huge crush on him, he is an example of the amazing character development we get to witness, to which every second I can relate to. As a child, he did everything in his power to please his parents, everything. As he aged, the emotional toll from constantly trying to be the golden child started to weigh on him until he eventually broke. I understood his pain and could feel it too, a special child fighting to live up to standard until eventually you just fall. He went through a classic case of “gifted kid burn out” but was not granted a chance to prove himself, a redemption arc. Draco is my “comfort character” because we are one and the same. His story is mine. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go, because to let go is to stop believing, and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin are the leaders who have clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. Although I love being a Slytherin with every part of my being, it is not the only thing that fuels my obsession with the franchise. I love the characters. They are individuals with lives, passions, and goals. Each one of them were not meant to be cookie-cutter or basic. They had purposes. Throughout the seven books, the characters grow more as people and the reader grows with them. My favorite character is Draco Malfoy. Besides my huge crush on him, he is an example of the amazing character development we get to witness, to which every second I can relate to. As a child, he did everything in his power to please his parents, everything. As he aged, the emotional toll from constantly trying to be the golden child started to weigh on him until he eventually broke. I understood his pain and could feel it too, a special child fighting to live up to standard until eventually you just fall. He went through a classic case of “gifted kid burn out” but was not granted a chance to prove himself, a redemption arc. Draco is my “comfort character” because we are one and the same. His story is mine. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go, because to let go is to stop believing, and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin are the leaders who have clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. Although I love being a Slytherin with every part of my being, it is not the only thing that fuels my obsession with the franchise. I love the characters. They are individuals with lives, passions, and goals. Each one of them were not meant to be cookie-cutter or basic. They had purposes. Throughout the seven books, the characters grow more as people and the reader grows with them. My favorite character is Draco Malfoy. Besides my huge crush on him, he is an example of the amazing character development we get to witness, to which every second I can relate to. As a child, he did everything in his power to please his parents, everything. As he aged, the emotional toll from constantly trying to be the golden child started to weigh on him until he eventually broke. I understood his pain and could feel it too, a special child fighting to live up to standard until eventually you just fall. He went through a classic case of “gifted kid burn out” but was not granted a chance to prove himself, a redemption arc. Draco is my “comfort character” because we are one and the same. His story is mine. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go, because to let go is to stop believing, and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin are the leaders who have clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. Although I love being a Slytherin with every part of my being, it is not the only thing that fuels my obsession with the franchise. I love the characters. They are individuals with lives, passions, and goals. Each one of them were not meant to be cookie-cutter or basic. They had purposes. Throughout the seven books, the characters grow more as people and the reader grows with them. My favorite character is Draco Malfoy. Besides my huge crush on him, he is an example of the amazing character development we get to witness, to which every second I can relate to. As a child, he did everything in his power to please his parents, everything. As he aged, the emotional toll from constantly trying to be the golden child started to weigh on him until he eventually broke. I understood his pain and could feel it too, a special child fighting to live up to standard until eventually you just fall. He went through a classic case of “gifted kid burn out” but was not granted a chance to prove himself, a redemption arc. Draco is my “comfort character” because we are one and the same. His story is mine. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go, because to let go is to stop believing, and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. I became a writer too, writing short stories with main characters that looked like me. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin are the leaders who have clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. Although I love being a Slytherin with every part of my being, it is not the only thing that fuels my obsession with the franchise. I love the characters. They are individuals with lives, passions, and goals. Each one of them were not meant to be cookie-cutter or basic. They had purposes. Throughout the seven books, the characters grow more as people and the reader grows with them. My favorite character is Draco Malfoy. Besides my huge crush on him, he is an example of the amazing character development we get to witness, to which every second I can relate to. As a child, he did everything in his power to please his parents, everything. As he aged, the emotional toll from constantly trying to be the golden child started to weigh on him until he eventually broke. I understood his pain and could feel it too, a special child fighting to live up to standard until eventually you just fall. He went through a classic case of “gifted kid burn out” but was not granted a chance to prove himself, a redemption arc. Draco is my “comfort character” because we are one and the same. His story is mine. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go, because to let go is to stop believing, and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.

I love the Harry Potter franchise with every single atom of my being. I can still feel the magic on those pages every time I read the books. I remember reading the amazing adventures the characters would go on and going to sleep at night, imagining myself with them, flying around on broomsticks, and conjuring potions. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of that fantasy. I could not go to their world, so I brought them to mine. The official Wizarding World website sorted me into Slytherin. I have my wand, and I own all the merch a teenage girl could ask for. The story of The Boy Who Lived gave me hope that I could live too. I am a Slytherin and could not be more honored. Slytherin is not a very favored or praised house like the other three; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin is characterized as cunning, ambitious, and resourceful with a great bit of pride in our souls. We are, as the Sorting Hat says, “cunning folk [who will] use any means to achieve their ends.” Slytherin are the leaders who have clawed our way to the top of the hill and then reached down a hand to help our friends. This fictional group has given me the sense of identity and belonging I needed during my vulnerable formative years as a child. I have never felt more seen and understood than when I read about my house. There were people out there who I related to, and it gave me a safe place. Although I love being a Slytherin with every part of my being, it is not the only thing that fuels my obsession with the franchise. I love the characters. They are individuals with lives, passions, and goals. Each one of them were not meant to be cookie-cutter or basic. They had purposes. Throughout the seven books, the characters grow more as people and the reader grows with them. My favorite character is Draco Malfoy. Besides my huge crush on him, he is an example of the amazing character development we get to witness, to which every second I can relate to. As a child, he did everything in his power to please his parents, everything. As he aged, the emotional toll from constantly trying to be the golden child started to weigh on him until he eventually broke. I understood his pain and could feel it too, a special child fighting to live up to standard until eventually you just fall. He went through a classic case of “gifted kid burn out” but was not granted a chance to prove himself, a redemption arc. Draco is my “comfort character” because we are one and the same. His story is mine. This franchise has made me laugh, cry, and through books across my bedroom. Growing up on this story has taught me that magic is real, it is all around us. Witches and wizards are flying on brooms overhead, shops are selling owls, and children are chasing goblins. We see it every day, but we just must truly look. I could never be convinced to let go, because to let go is to stop believing, and to stop believing is what kills the magic. It has been 4 years, and I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.