Humans of OUTniagara
As a person who identifies as queer and genderqueer, there are a lot of “boxes” I don’t fit into.
I don’t fit into gender roles. I don’t fit into social norms. I don’t fit into the (North) American dream of boy meets girl, fall in love, white picket fence, two kids and a dog. I don’t fit into some religious teachings. In some countries, I don’t even fit into the law.
For some people, they’ve decided that I’m a problem. Somewhere along the course of their lives, someone else taught them that people like me are wrong. That people like me are gross, or confused, or sick, or going to hell.
What happens when someone young is taught this belief by someone they trust, only to discover they too are queer (feel free to insert any other 2SLGBTQIA+ identity for the word “queer”)?
They fit themselves into the metaphorical closet, but is this really a metaphor? Imagine fitting yourself into a space where you are uncomfortable, supressed, and dark… sounds like a closet to me. As horrible as this sounds, it does serve a purpose. Closets can provide protection, a sense of safety, and enough oxygen to survive for a while. Mine certainly did.
My greatest wish for this world is that we continue to have more people open their hearts to becoming allies to the community, and fewer closet doors nailed closed.
I fit in with my family, my partner, my workplace. I fit in with my community of friends, yogis, supporters, allies, and fellow folks under the broad spectrum of a never-long-enough acronym. I fit into my own skin. I fit in where it matters, and that is never overrated.
– Celeste Turner
Humans of OUTniagara
