By: @momannwill
I own one piece of rainbow accoutrement.
Okay, two. The rainbow belt I own, I’ve never really worn. In 2007 I went through about a 2-week phase of donning flags on my keychain or on a ring before I felt silly. I’ll give it to myself though…at least I got over my aversion to wearing flags publicly to begin with.
For many years I liked being quietly gay. That is, carrying on in my relationships with women as I pleased but not really talking about it, except in the very small and intimate circles that I had built for myself in which I could feel normal. My quiet gayness led me into situations I hated (like straight clubs), into good-ol’-boys clubs (like groups of closeted Christians) and into conversations with “allies” that reminded me a lot of those familiar “you’re Black but you’re different so let me ask you this on behalf of Black people…” moments from freshman year (read: life). I was quietly gay.
Like real quiet.
Like silent.
Like, found myself on a few days trying to not look too butch. Or kept telling myself ‘its cool if they don’t want to come to queer parties’ while they easily expected me to show up to theirs. Like being out at work but only saying “we” when I was referring to my girlfriend and I. Anonymous gay. Quiet gay. Silent gay.
In that era of myself a rainbow felt too loud. It felt too bold. Too telling, too political, too attention grabbing. Too personal.
Let us light a damn candle for growth and the passage of time.
That quiet gay is long gone in so many ways. First of all, I’m not interested in playing my sexuality safe or anonymous or quiet. I am what I fucking am. All day, everyday.
Why I will never ever understand anyone who wants to be silently gay.