CASSIE
CALIFORNIA | SERIES # 4
“Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out.” - Gloria Anzaldúa
Hola familia,
I want to share with you a bit of my journey. I hope it can provide some solace, may it be a mirror or a bridge, whatever works best. Just knowing you are out there opening your spirit to this plática fills me with love. If you are a queer brown mujer, this one’s for you!
I have spent much of my life trying to swallow my tongue. For a long time, I was scared of the sound of my voice – the weight of my words, the power tied to my truth. Silence seemed the better option, the safer one for sure. Being quiet meant I was selfless, and humble. It gave me flexibility and earned me “love”. I come to you now at 24 to say f*** staying silent! This world – hell, these systems – thrive on our silence and complacency! Perhaps the boldest thing we can do in this life is to be open and honest.
In my house, I learned to lie and hide. My younger brother had come out at 13 (I was 14 or 15 at the time), and it tore our family apart. My parents were distraught and despondent. The revelation challenged their Catholic ideology to the core. We were threatened with being withdrawn from school, going to a pastor for therapy, and in an especially heated moment, being thrown out of the house. I say “we” because despite my brother being the gay one, my support of him made me an accomplice, and therefore just as guilty. In fact, since I was older, it was my “responsibility” to steer him in the right direction, and I had failed miserably.
Immediately after my brother’s confession, my parents looked me in the eye and said, “What about you?” I was terrified. I had never thought about my sexuality fully. Always bookish and independent, dating was never a priority of mine. But something in their voice shook me to my core. Could they be right? Either way, my survival instincts kicked in, and I shook my head and defended my heterosexuality.
It took almost an entire decade to undo my internalized homophobia, shame, and self-hatred. I was president of my high school GSA, the basketball captain, and working at my college LGBT Center as an “ally”. Still, I truly believed I was straight (lol). My queerness didn’t look like anything I had ever seen on TV or watched in movies, and so I questioned it. I hadn’t “always known” since I was little. I didn’t think there could be more than one queer person in a family. I wasn’t white. I wasn’t flamboyant. I wasn’t exactly femme but wasn’t totally butch either.
It wasn’t until I fell in love with a girl for the first time that I came face to face with my queerness. It took me a while, but when I was ready to finally accept this truth, it felt like my life really started. It made me stronger. It made me vocal. It taught me boundaries and gave me courage. I became a fiercer activist and artist. Most importantly, it gave me purpose, hope, and a chosen family.
I’m still not “out” to certain people, but that’s okay. I know there are folks in my life who may never fully accept me or give me unconditional love. Some people won’t ask questions because they would rather not know the answers. I have had to divorce myself from needing their approval because I no longer beg for dignity. I do not accept love that is not tender or kind. I do not apologize for who I am. Not everyone is entitled to the most intimate parts of you, so coming out isn’t the end all be all. Everyone’s paths are different, and you will find the one worth taking. These days I’m much more invested in coming “in” to myself, tending to the parts of me that need attention. Sitting in my self-love. I trust that all is as it should be.
You are loved, dear reader. I love you! Your struggle is tied to my struggle. We are in this together.
Con mucho cariño,
Cas
UPDATE:
Since writing this piece, I found that fully coming into myself meant “unleashing” my tongue and coming out to everyone important in my life. By allowing my needs to change, I was able to demand respect, acknowledge my worth, and most importantly, grant others the grace I had cultivated within myself for so long. Now my family is committed to the emotional work necessary for us to find our way back to one another, and I feel hopeful for the future. When your time is right, speak bravely, dear reader; you may be surprised by who hears you and answers back.
