"If I had been born during any other era, my story would be different. The world would not be ready to understand with open hearts or minds. To this day, many still choose not to. But whether they choose ignorance or empathy is up to them. My story will still be here; it will never be erased." (5)

"They saw me, not a constructed facade." (16)

"... I found myself daydreaming of empathy. If only others could experience my perspective, I doubt they would be so quick to dismiss me, I thought to myself." (19)

"To process discrimination throughout the years, I've found solace by taking two steps: first, acknowledging where the discrimination, and second, persevering despite it. I acknowledge that discrimination often stems from ignorance. Although it stings to be misunderstood, others' ignorance does not always hold malicious intent. Focusing on this truth, I concentrate on healing myself in that moment through productive dissociation rather than painful projection, This awareness helps me decide my next action with reason rather than emotion. Following this period of reflection, I persevere. This involves a choice: either I can advocate for myself and teach others how to avoid performing future discriminatory actions or I can walk away. To determine my response, I consider:

The situation (Will I have to work with these people again?)

My present emotions (Do I have enough energy to teach others right now?)

My relationships with those involved (Are these people I see often?)

I often find myself choosing to advocate and teach. I hope that my labor is seen as an invitation for others to play a part in the growth of inclusivity and accessibility. Most often, this leads them to realize the range of existence beyond their own.

I've found that this process of acknowledgement and perseverance is a practice— one that I will always be redefining. But most importantly, I have to ask myself the question: What will heal me in this moment? From creating art to writing in solitude to reaching out to my support system, the answer varies each time. Healing, too, lies on a continuum." (19-21)

"The truth is, identity isn't a monolith. It exists on a continuum, reflecting our own specific experiences and personhood." (25)

"Before, my identity was uncategorizable, leaving others uncomfortable, as we are taught to fear the unknown. The longer I stayed true to myself, the more this fear built inside others. I had to give up my authentic self to survive.

Thinking on it now, having a queer role model to aspire toward could have saved parts of me I've since had to recover." (31)

"Many of the individuals now surrounding me were also part of a minority community, meaning these topics impacted them deeply, too. Eager to explore our own histories and systems, I was able to hold fervent conversations with a newfound level of interconnection. These moments affirmed many of my own experiences with bigotry growing up, encouraging me to further understand my identities. Not only were these conversations informative, but I felt myself healing through the parallels in our stories. I belonged here, a place where people rejected the limitations of binaries. I wish this did not have to be a radical act." (44)

"To move past this fear, I had to unlearn and reframe where my characteristics originated. These attributes are part of who I am, regardless of my gender identity." (52)

"Now, at twenty-one years old, I have learned to find empowerment within my identities. I'm allowing myself to believe in the love I receive as well as the love I deserve— the love that is possible to hold for myself.

Above all, I've learned that I am continuously learning. I definitely do not have it all figured out. I doubt I ever will, and I am learning to be okay with that. We are all running on different frequencies and discovering ourselves at different moments." (62)