My coming-out story is still being written. In some ways, it’s a prayer to the void when you decide to live authentically. You are at whim to whatever the world will throw at you, but you hope deep down it doesn’t tear you apart or break your heart.
I came out as a lesbian at the age of 14. Around that time, 2009, I did not understand who I was. I knew I liked women, having a fondness for them was biological.
Growing up, the world around me was not openly queer. I did not have any queer family members. It was difficult to reconcile with being “other.” I would often times sit in my closet alone, smoking weed, just to escape this feeling of being other. It was nauseating. I sought attention from people I should not have and ended up on the wrong roads.
I learned to make myself small in any way. Not speaking up for myself when I felt hurt, sad or angry. This led to punching holes in walls, and screaming battles with my mother because her love didn’t feel safe enough for me to unfold in. In private I was a tyrant to my siblings because they didn’t and would never experience the struggles of being queer in a straight space and trying to fit in it. They would never get the looks or the questions about what gender this heterosexual world places you in because I’m a masculine presenting lesbian. This is a daily occurrence for me. That is my reality.
I remember the first time I was asked by a family friend, a little girl, she asked are you a boy or a girl? I wanted to cry because I am a girl, a woman. I love being a woman that loves women.
I wear clothes that are comfortable for me and a low-maintenance haircut. I am not conventional looking, but I am a woman. They know if I am not a man, then she must be a lesbian. I am battling this silent struggle each time I step outside. I worry that what I represent could cause me significant harm. My body and my identity are dangerous to live among straight, heterosexual people, ideals and perspectives.
“Who is the man and who is the woman?” A question I’ve been asked so often when out with a girlfriend. My answer was juvenile for many years. I stuck to the hetero-normative script and toughed it out with a “Well, I technically am.” The follow-up response was always, “Oh, yeah I figured.”
My lover and I are both women that are sensitive, caring, loving, hard, soft, obnoxious, quiet and the list can go on. We are people in love with our bodies, no matter the shape or texture.
There is no man in our world. There is no man between us, in us or among us. We are man-free and blossom as so. We are women who love other women, no matter the clothing. In this question lives another path of coming out, having to assert who we are for it to make sense to a society that is honestly not equipped to do so. Being queer out loud is a vulnerable existence. You hear the word “brave” tossed around being queer because some people could not fathom living authentically despite the world around you telling you it’s wrong. To that, I ask what is “right”?
It feels like my truth is not something worthy of greatness. I am beautiful and every single queer person that walks this earth, young or old, is breathtaking. They are living in the confines of true freedom. Coming out is freedom, love and beauty. We are all at the whim of wind but we all will fly with wings made of love. No matter how we look we’re made to unfold in front of people that couldn’t imagine being authentic against the grain of a society set out to harm “others.”
Over the years I have found myself seeking a safe place to land with these beautiful wings made of love. I have apologized profusely to my siblings for behaving in such a poor abusive manner because no one deserves to be treated poorly. As an adult, I’ve learned to sometimes not correct people about my gender because it’s sometimes not worth the trouble. I make myself small less often, but still find myself doing so to avoid danger, honestly. I have found a beautiful being to land to in my time of need and to love fearlessly in every space. It’s been a privilege to be able to live my truth and not have to sit in a closet waiting for the other shoe to drop. I have so many wishes and dreams for the queer community to be supported endlessly I hope will come true. We all deserve a space for our wings to grow wide and full. We all deserve endless love starting with ourselves. To begin living free it all must start with ourselves because I can tell you from experience if you are visibly queer, coming out is a lifetime of choosing whether you want to be seen but not heard by everyone. It’s a beautiful, colorful journey.
At the core of it all is love. Your wings are love. Your body is love. Your freedom is love. Your identity is love. Your queerness is love. You are love. We are love.
Bryana Saldana is a 25-year-old, Afro-Latina poet born and raised in Orlando. Saldana had her first published poem through “Women Who Roar.” Saldana’s pronouns are She/Her/They.
