You Don’t Have to “Look” Gay
By: Kristen Nadel
Tags: LGBTQ, Confidence, Gay, Personal Development, Creative Non Fiction

You Don’t Have to “Look” Gay

Photo by Rachid Oucharia on Unsplash

When I came out as a young teenager, I was lucky because I was met with support and genuine jovial responses. My parents and my friends were happy that I was expressing my true self, my true identity. Through these years of being out and proud, my mind was being shaped, like any other teenager in the 2000s.

To me, being gay meant looking gay. I am so passable for a heterosexual female that it used to bother me to my core when someone would assume that I had a boyfriend or that I was interested in talking to guys romantically. Admittedly, I only just recently became comfortable with not looking like the gayest person in the room, even though I typically am.

I got a last-minute short haircut to try to appease my gayness.

It was awful, and I pretty much hated it the instant I left the salon. Now that I had short hair, surely, I was gay enough. People complimented me on my new look, but you know what didn’t happen? There was no influx of assumptions about my sexuality. Nobody figured that I was gay by looking at me.

Feeling frustrated, I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. Even into my 20s and after moving to LA, I struggled to fit the narrative I thought I had to follow. There are a few distinct types of lesbians in LA—I fell under the “Lipstick” category. This was a group of feminine women who dated other women who were usually also feminine.

There was a time when I totally played up my femininity, fully embracing it. It still bothered me when men hit on me while I was out, even while I was standing next to my then-girlfriend. I wanted to make it stop, wanted it to be so glaringly obvious that I was gay.

I realized that it doesn’t matter how I look or what I do with my style.

A cliché moment—what matters most is what I feel on the inside. My partner knows that I am gay. The people in my life who are closest to me know that I am gay. Why the fuck do I care if the random man who passes me by on the street knows it, too?

I guess, there was a hopeful part of me that thought if people knew I was gay, I’d stop being accosted while checking the mail or walking to get groceries. The reality of today’s world is not such—straight cis-men are always going to hit on anybody they find attractive, even gay females.

No matter how “butch” or masculine I present myself to be (which would be entirely the opposite of how I truly feel inside), this would still happen. I’ve learned to take it in stride. I am now confident to the fullest extent, not only in my appearance but in my decision to wear whatever the hell I want and to look however the hell I want.

Being gay is not the only part of who I am as a person.

I have so many other redeeming qualities. I’m funny as hell, firstly. My friends say I’m the strongest person I know. One day, society might surpass the need to know who you are sleeping with the moment they meet you. Perhaps, I might encounter a new friend who doesn’t want to hear about my bedroom life at all—because, frankly—that’s none of their business.

I truly love being gay, being a part of this wonderful and diverse community. It has helped me grow so much into the person that I am right now. I also know that there is so much more room for growth. Maybe I’ll change my hair one day or wear different clothing—I’m still going to be gay, and that is validating in itself.