PRIDE ISSUE: A roaring fire / A crashing wave

By Navya Shukla

A roaring fire / A crashing wave

by fourth year Claire D’Agostino

I remember shame like hot ambers in my chest—the burning was not my soul on fire for God, but instead, the pain of knowing I liked girls. Sitting in the middle school hallway, I felt the cold, dirty tiles against my thighs like a frigid, yet still burning reminder that I was different from my friends. It did not cool me off, but instead it made the fire burn hotter.

I learned later that this was not a fire that would ever go out. But it was a fire that burned with flames of orange and pink, and I only had to look closer to realize that it was beautiful. It did not need to be treated like a beast to be extinguished, but with gentleness and patience. 

Since I had not reached that point yet, I tried to put it out. Stomping did not work; rather, it created a vulnerable Achilles heel on me. I tried to pour water on it, but instead fear crashed into me like a wave. 

But it was more than a wave—it was a tsunami and I couldn’t breathe. It kept me under the surface for so long that I lost myself. I began to move through the world as a shell washed up on the shore.

My feelings of self-degradation and shame regarding my sexuality felt bigger than myself. To overcome them, I had to confront these feelings: to emerge as a phoenix out of the ashes. I was so worried about what everyone else would think of me that I was burying myself under the weight of these emotions. 

I decided that I would never live like that again. I began going to therapy with the goal of eventually coming out to my family. Once again, those same juvenile anxieties threatened to burn me, or to wash over me like a wave. But I was pulled out. My therapist asked me, 

If it took you eight years to accept yourself, do you expect your family to accept you immediately? Give them the same grace that you would have wanted to give to your younger self. 

Understanding is not always necessary for acceptance. I had so much fear of how those around me would react that I let it stifle me. I actually had an incredible experience—my family embraced me and loved me completely, with no caveats. 

Pride is the opposite of shame. I vow that I will never let shame consume me again. Everyone in my life who I care about accepted me for who I was: I was the one who needed to accept myself.

Today, I am proud to be a lesbian. I wish I could go back, to tell my younger self that she did not have to go around putting out fires, but instead, just learn to love. 

Despite everything, I am still proud of her.