PRIDE 2025: Part III, Honesty

I sat down today with the intention of posting a different story — but something was bubbling in my chest, and it only felt right to see where it took me.

I sit here, at this very moment, deeply aware of the secrets I keep for myself. There aren’t that many, truly, and fewer than there used to be. Being queer is no longer one of them. The fear I felt pursuing a creative career isn’t one, either. But still, others lurk.

What makes a secret a secret, anyway? Is it that no one knows? That I’d sooner lie than admit to it? That I’d never go out of my way to share it?

I’m reminded of the infamous 1964 Supreme Court case, in which Justice Potter Stewart described his take on the threshold of obscenity and hard-core pornography:

“I shall not today attempt further to define [it]… and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it.”

Indeed. At least, I know it when I see it in myself.

I strive to live a life free from secrets. Authenticity is a core value of mine, and to me, that means existing in the world without false pretenses. It means being honest with myself and the people around me.

There are very few things I have not admitted to in my life. I’ve continually urged myself to share the things I feel most ashamed of. Usually, that’s because those things involved others. They lived in that blurry space between a secret and a lie. To properly apologize, I had to admit what I did. The shame of ongoing betrayal outweighed the shame of confession.

But what of the other secrets? The ones that aren’t really lies? What of the things that I keep to myself, simply because sharing them feels too vulnerable?

In this moment, I can think of four.

I have a harmless crush on a friend of mine.

Okay, now three.

One belongs to someone else, too. We were young, and dumb, and no one was hurt. That one feels right to keep; it doesn’t feel like it’s only mine to share.

Two.

Now we’re getting somewhere.

When I went through the mental exercise of asking myself what it would feel like to type those two things out, the reason I don’t share them became glaringly obvious: it’s the fear of judgment. Specifically, it’s the belief that the people I most care about will look at me differently, more negatively, as a result. That they’ll make assumptions about my character and overlook all they’ve learned so far. All the more important things.

…

I can see why I wanted to write this today — why my PRIDE series didn’t feel concluded until I shared this. I wrote all that out, and all I can think is, What a terrible way to underestimate the people you love.

When I came out as queer, my friends loved me still. When I came out as genderfluid, there was admittedly some resistance. But over time, we worked through those things. And as a result, their perspective has broadened, and our relationship has deepened.

In short, I’ve never regretted being honest with the people I love about who I am.

And so, if I count you a close friend, please consider this an invitation:

Ask me.

And if you’re ready, tell me.

Let’s sit down and talk about the things we’re afraid to bring to the light.

I promise, your whole self is welcome in my heart. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Happy Pride, everyone.