This June, I celebrated pride month by reading a poem each day of the month. Inspired by some of my newfound favorite queer poets, I want to share a little bit of who I am and my journey with being queer. Enjoy!
I. everything, everywhere
“What was there to say? See her in everything, everywhere.”
—“And What is a Mother” by Luther Hughes
At 12:01 on June 2nd this year, I was sitting on the floor of my friend’s room, informing him that it was my mother’s birthday. I didn’t text her, because I was worried that she would worry that I was up so late. (I lie to her, sometimes, for her sake and mine.) When I called her around noon the next day, she told me that my dad and brother had both forgotten.
“I’m like the kid in Home Alone, pulling on the string that makes my cardboard mother
more motherly, except she is not cardboard, she is
already, exceedingly my mother.”
—“I Invite My Parents to a Dinner Party” by Chen Chen
I actually read many more poems than the two I’ve listed, trying to find someone whose poetry could encapsulate my relationship with my mother. I ended up including both poems because our relationship is unthinkably complicated, a duality: she doesn’t know I like girls. She loves me. I’m scared of her anger. I wanted to cry when she told me no one else in the family remembered her birthday. I lie to her because I’m afraid to tell the truth. I love her. She has given up so much for me. I don’t think I could bear to let her down. She says “I love you” so easily. She asks when I’ll bring home a boyfriend. How can she say “I love you” and mean it if she doesn’t know everything about me?
Chen writes, “she is / already, exceedingly my mother.” To love is to forgive, and of course I have already forgiven her. I’m not sure if this is cowardice. I’m proud of who I am, and I know my mother is proud of me, a version of me that is a little different in important ways but also mostly the same.
II. homosexual lilac
I like to think of myself as being in the “glass closet,” meaning I don’t usually announce the fact that I’m not straight, but I don’t hide it either. When people ask why, I say it’s because it’s ridiculous that the burden is put on queer people to specify our queerness, as if we need to clarify that we are something different. And this is true, kind of.
"The homosexual lilac comes & it's ours & everyone like us.”
—“Twilight Train” by Eileen Myles
Boston is pretty queer. This is not new to me: my home town is also pretty queer. I think you can find queer people almost anywhere, and in some places we’re loud and proud, while in others we’re a little quieter. But we’re there. We’ve earned the right to be unabashedly proud, but I also think we've earned the right to live our lives quietly—why should I be expected to tell everyone I know how I feel?
“but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.”
—“What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why” by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Another reason I don’t say it is that I don’t know how to qualify my queerness. I’ve had crushes since I was too young to know they were crushes, following my cool friends around with hearts in my eyes (probably). I don't like to put words to these feelings, and saying that I'm "gay" or "bi" or "pan" or "LGBTQ+" feels wrong, like I'm making an announcement. Some people like the act of coming out because it's an expression of pride, but for me, my pride is inherently part of who I am. Voicing it feels like I'm trying too hard, a fake sort of pride that isn't true to me.
I think coming out can look like a lot of different things. I’ve become a master of saying it without saying it, like sneaking phrases like “my [girlfriend/ex-girlfriend/girl that I liked]” or “I’m celebrating [pride month/bi visibility week]” into conversation, and that usually works out just fine.
III. what a thing, love
“what a thing, love, i am so happy to be stupid this way.”
—“Dear Time” by Danez Smith
It’s not surprising to me that people have been writing about love for centuries. It is comforting to me, though, like people a hundred years ago can understand how I feel today. How love to me is just like love to everyone else, and how queerness is a gift to me.
I like when people say “my heart is full,” because it's kind of silly to me, the notion there's a limit to the amount we can feel. But I also oddly understand, because I don’t know how else I can explain that all the people I’ve ever loved have given me little pieces of themselves, fitting together in my heart to make me the person I am today. I am proud of who I love, because who I love is who I am.
“And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything? And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for? And have you changed your life?”
—“The Swan” by Mary Oliver
poems
- “ Queer” by Frank Bidart
- “ And What is a Mother” by Luther Hughes / “I Invite My Parents to a Dinner Party” by Chen Chen
- “ One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop
- “ Little Beast” by Richard Siken
- “ Gloves” by Kaveh Akbar
- “ VII. Change” by Anne Carson
- “ Dear Time” by Danez Smith
- “ Twilight Train” by Eileen Myles
- “ In Muted Tone” by Paul Verlaine
- “ The Drunken Boat” by Arthur Rimbaud
- “ When I Heard at the Close of the Day” by Walt Whitman
- “ Poem for My Love” by June Jordan
- “ Duplex” by Jericho Brown
- “ Wild nights - Wild nights!” by Emily Dickinson
- “ Homosexuality” by Frank O’Hara
- “ What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why” by Edna St. Vincent Millay
- “ Planetarium” by Adrienne Rich
- “ One Today” by Richard Blanco
- “ Love and Death” by Lord Byron
- “ On Coming Out” by Lee Mokobe (listen here)
- “ Give Me Your Hand” by Gabriela Mistral
- “ Kaddish” by Allen Ginsberg
- “ One Girl” by Sappho
- “ Acknowledgements” by Franny Choi
- “ About the Bees” by Justin Phillip Reed
- “ Who Said It Was Simple” by Audre Lorde
- “ This Your Home Now” by Mark Doty
- “ On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” by Ocean Vuong
- “ Ballad of the Moon Moon” by Federico García Lorca
- “ The Swan” by Mary Oliver
| name | value |
| date | 2025-07-02 |