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The Difficulty of Identity and Belonging When You 'Pass'

I don’t look particularly queer, inasmuch as one can. If I’m not in my pajamas, I’m in a geeky t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The fun, wacky colors have mostly grown out of my cropped hair, which could almost pass as a pixie to those who want to read me as feminine.

Much of my life, I didn’t even know I was queer. It wasn’t until well into my twenties that I realized I was demisexual — or maybe gray asexual; I wasn’t sure.

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