Unlearning Shame, Re-Learning Me

Growing up in an immigrant household has its perks. I was surrounded by two cultures, two religions, multiple languages, and, of course, endless amounts of food. But it also came with its challenges, especially when you don't fit into the same cookie-cutter expectations as everyone else. I spent much of my childhood feeling like a chameleon, constantly adapting to my surroundings so that I could stay safe and find a way to thrive.

I lived in a near-constant state of awareness, always scanning, always adjusting. Queerness was never something I saw or heard about, certainly not in my home, where it wasn’t discussed or even understood. Without any representation or language for what I was feeling, I began to believe that something was wrong inside me. I felt like the odd one out, and that sense of not belonging slowly grew into shame. I internalized the idea that the truest parts of me were unacceptable, and hiding them became an essential survival strategy.

Everything shifted when I began to see queer people in the media, artists like Tegan and Sara, poets like Andrea Gibson, and allies like Hayley Williams. Seeing people who were unapologetically themselves gave me a glimpse of what authenticity could look like. It helped me imagine a version of my life where I didn’t have to blend in to stay safe, where I didn’t have to be a chameleon in every room I entered.

Representation showed me that there is an authentic, spacious life available, one where the different parts of my identity don’t have to be in conflict, but can exist in connection with each other. For so long, I believed this part of me was unlovable simply because I didn’t know it could be loved. I created an internal dialogue dedicated to shrinking my queerness, flattening myself into something more “copy and paste,” something that wouldn’t attract attention or risk.

But as I continued to find queer icons and stories to hold onto, something within me started to soften. I realized that living authentically, and with pride, can be both scary and profoundly beautiful. Little by little, I began meeting myself with kindness. I reconnected with the parts of me I had pushed away. And slowly, day by day, I learned to love my queerness. I started letting go of that old shame and found myself on a journey back home, to who I really am.

Written By: Hanna Serhan