"I guess there are different types of relationships," he said. "Yes, there are so many different relationships," I responded. We parted ways and I walked toward the bus stop, wondering when the next route 79 will come. It was 8:10 PM and I discovered the next stop at the University Center will be at 8:17 PM. So I waited. I pondered all the events of the day, as usual. Meetings, classes, friends, and coffee. The bus arrives early before I begin to think about the multitude of homework I most likely, probably, and sort of always have. But I'm so fixated on this bus that charges through the night in its proud glory of the number 79 on its header. "There it is," I think to myself in this mysterious and inexplicable awe. The crowd of mixed and anonymous faces rush toward the entrance of the gaping door of the bus. We slide our cards with a satisfying green light and a cute beep that acknowledge us. I sit near the back, but not all the way back because that would seem like I was intentionally distancing myself and taking some "side" of an issue. There was enough room in the middle of the bus where people usually settle down, saying to the whole bus in one swift sit, "I am not going to sit in the front or the back; I will just remain neutral within the encompassing gray middle." And that's fine. Because that's what I exactly, always, and routinely do. And yet, as the bus merges within the rest of the traffic, I feel this sense of staring eyes. I sat there, trying to stare at my reflection as I always do, but the plastic door divider hinders my view of myself. These Japanese students were speaking in their native tongue next to me and the fans blew wildly in the back. But I could feel the silence -- the silence that fell upon the whole bus as soon as the doors close, excluding any outsiders. As I sit, I think of all these eyes. These eyes that stare directly at me as I try to ignore and be oblivious. But this is obviously impossible. I think of all of my queer brothers and sisters that have ridden the same bus with this sense of unknown hostility. Only because you are unknown; I felt these passengers had no idea how to react to something…different. And not different in the sense that I'm gay or a minority or whatever label you'd prefer. But a "different" that becomes incomprehensible and incomparable. I was a question mark, sitting there, with whatever-clothes I wear; with whatever-hair I chose to do that day; with where-ever-the-fuck I was going; with my whoever-I-loved eyes and with a whenever-smirk I portrayed. But still, it never becomes easy. Or "normal" or even quite...neutral. I wring the little yellow rope that signals my stop and I tell myself to discontinue my thinking for a minute, get up, and proceed out of the bus; these people have a schedule to keep, a list of tasks to get done, and a grocery list of goals to attain. I embrace the cold air of the outside world and am immediately disconnected from the 79. I've left this nest. And I walk where I need to. Push the cross-walk button because I have to. And travel through the intersection when it's time. These pushy cars and their staring eyes of light; I imagine them calling out names -- "faggot!" I hear them screech, aggressively waiting for the goddamn light that directs their life. I can't walk fast enough. Can't position myself in defense as I walk through. "Just get to that sidewalk and don't look back," I swear to myself. I wish I could be proud like that huge, lit-up 79 -- speeding through the night with no regrets; or any paranoia, or fear, or whatever have you. But no, I'm just this tiny, displaced person in the midst of the night, returning home from a long day."
- Anonymous

"When I was a sophomore in high school, an event photographer snapped a photo of me and my boyfriend making out at a rave. You could see our tongues intermingling, hands clasping the back of each other’s heads. He was wearing eye makeup and I was shirtless. It was an overt display of queer affection, and I decided that this would be my public statement: a photo worth a thousand words. I made the photo my Myspace profile picture in a public declaration about who I really was. I still remember the feeling of walking into school the next day, seeing people pointing in my direction as they whispered about me. I was LIVING for the attention, but I was also terrified. When I went to buy my morning cookie, one of the more thick-headed football players approached me and asked, "Is that really you? That's not you...right?" I swung around with a grin and said — loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear — "YES, that is me. I'm GAY and I like to dance — is that a problem for you?" The crowd that had gathered exchanged glances before dispersing, and the school’s star defenseman scampered away at a loss for words. The next day, I set about in creating our school’s first ever GSA, and ran the organization until I graduated. It's still functioning today and has raised over $10,000 for LGBTQ+ charities.""
- Zak Krevitt, Motion Graphics Designer

"I was struggling because I couldn’t really accept who I am. We were just chilling one day when I told her that I had something to say, and I told her that I was gay. She hugged me and didn’t make a big deal about it. A few days later, she called me over, and when I arrived at her place, she'd baked a rainbow cake for me. A few people were over. Turned out that she had a few gay friends varying from twink to drag to casual to bear gay, and she wanted me to meet them. We hung out for a few hours, and I realized there isn’t a 'normal gay.' I had a better time accepting who I am. It's still a struggle in today’s society, but that moment helped me so much, and I will forever in my heart thank her for that."
- lgbtqueerguy

"Since I work at a middle school, that included my students. The morning of my announcement, my hands were shaking when I walked into the classroom. I took a deep breath and explained to a room of fifth, sixth and seventh graders how I had been born Kevin but would now be Valerie. After my talk, the kids were given the opportunity to write down any questions or comments for me. By the end of the day, I had a stack of excellent questions and some of the sweetest comments ever — one student even told me we were BFFs. From that day until the end of the year, the kids were amazing about my transition. They put a concerted effort into getting my pronouns right and to say Mrs. instead of Mr. It was the start of my social transition, and I'll never forget how helpful they were."
- valerie_d

"I ordered a handful of badges, most of them just feminist slogans like I’d done before, but this time I ordered an extra one. It was a badge that had a little line of tents in pride colors, and the slogan said, ‘I’m camper than a row of tents.' When they were delivered, I took them to my mum to show her, keeping the pride one until the end. Once I got to that one, I held it up and waited for her to read and process it. When she did, she looked at me and said, 'Are you trying to tell me something?' I just nodded, and she pulled me into this really tight hug and said she loved me and supported me no matter what. That was two years ago, and this year, she and my dad told me that if Pride had gone ahead, they would have come to give free parental hugs to anyone whose parents don’t accept them for who they are." - riptitanic

"As a queer, white, able-bodied male, feminist and first generation college student, my identity has afforded me many privileges and many challenges. However, it is through my marginalized identity as a queer individual that I have been inspired to become an activist and advocate for social justice. It was not until I got involved with the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) Resource Center that I truly became conscious of the different components of my identity. My supervisor at the Resource Center conducted social justice trainings during weekly meetings and acted as a mentor by encouraging me to apply to different leadership positions on campus. Eventually, I interned at the Resource Center where I served as the Safe Zone Coordinator. Safe Zone is a program that trains individuals to identify as Allies that are informed, supportive, and affirming of the LGBT community. As the Coordinator for the program, I was able to help create the Safe Zone program from the ground up, assisted in researching and designing the training manual, developed and executed activities during the training sessions themselves, and improved my group facilitation skills. The LGBTRC has become my home away from home, acting as a huge component of my undergraduate career. The initial "coming out" process was really difficult at times, but once I had the courage to walk into the center my life has only greatly improve. It was as a social network, introducing me to a large variety of friends and colleagues. It played a role in my development as a professional by exposing me to new experiences that strengthened my skills and talents. This might seem like LGBTRC propaganda (which it is), but in all honesty, it is also the story of a graduating fifth year student who is extremely grateful to have been active within the queer community and the LGBTRC at UCI. The center changed my life."
- 5th year Sociology and Social Ecology

"I had this fear that if my husband wasn't supportive, he'd leave me, and I'd lose everything: my kids, my house, my life. It was a very heavy feeling. It was so stressful that when I sat on the couch trying to tell him, I couldn't take it anymore. I hid behind the couch and started crying. I finally got the words out, and he came around and sat down beside me among the dust bunnies. He told me that it was okay, he still loved me, and I was beautiful just the way I was. It reminded me of why I married him in the first place." - mcrose1186

"The week I decided I was ready, I tried to tell at least one friend every day at school leading up to telling my parents on the weekend. I was walking down a hallway with my best friend and decided to tell her, but I got interrupted by another friend (who I wasn’t out to yet) grabbing me for an emergency meeting on a group project. Literally, all I managed to say was 'I’m–' before getting yanked away with my friend looking at me like I had grown an extra head. Eventually, I did tell her, and her response was to laugh and say, 'Oh my god, I thought you were going to tell me something terrible!' She also gave me the best advice in the world that day: as long as you love yourself and are happy with who you are, other people will be too." - thatgirla

"I was raised in an extremely open-minded and liberal family. As a child, I remember never having any problem with anyone over any facet of their identity, be it their race, their class, their gender, or their sexual orientation. So when my brother came out to me when I was 15, I was shocked that I didn't show him the full support I would have shown anyone else. Over time, I came to support him, and still do but that initial failure on my part still rattled me whenever it crossed my mind. Years later, as a second year in college, I realized that I had fallen for my best friend, a beautiful woman...who was straight. I never doubted my feelings but did consider them a fluke incident, never to happen again. I had boyfriends while in high school and boyfriends while in college so this must have been just a blip on my radar. Little did I know that I couldn't have been more wrong. During Winter quarter of my third year of college I was taking a class entitled Queer Nightlife and we were reading Audre Lorde's Zami and it hit me: I'm gay. There was no way around it. I took months to deal with this revelation but later came out to my siblings, my cousins, and many of my friends. When I came out to my brother he asked me why I didn't tell him sooner and as I was giving him what I thought was my answer, I remembered when he came out to me and how I wasn't fully supportive. I realized why--another revelation. I think I have always had an inkling that I am gay and when my brother came out to me it was like he beat me to the punch. Sad to say, I was under this weird impression that there could only be one gay in the family. I was wrong. After I came out I realized that being gay and having gay siblings happens quite often. My brother, as well as the other family and friends that I have told, have been extremely supportive in my coming out process which I believe I am continue to work through. Other than my family and friends, it has been my experience as an intern at the UCI LGBTRC that has truly helped me to navigate my identity as a queer woman of color. Being involved with the center, their programs, and consequently constantly meeting new people has helped me to come to know myself. I am proud to say that I'm queer and that I have realized my brother, as well as any other family member, can be too."
- Anonymous