Khai Dye-Brinkman (they/them)
Have you ever gotten hopelessly lost in IKEA? That, my friends, is what my existence felt like. Endless aisles of societal expectations, cryptic assembly instructions for "perfect lives," and the constant fear of winding up in the suffocating department of heteronormativity. That's what navigating life as a teenager felt like for me. Everyone else seemed to have a pre-built roadmap, complete with clear exits labelled "relationships" and "happily ever afters." But mine just led to a dimly lit corner marked "questioning everything."
Coming out wasn't a dramatic movie moment. It was more like a messy, side-eye filled exploration of the internet, a confusing-yet-liberating world that offered a different perspective on life. There were stumbles, like that drunken attempt to kiss my best friend, but each experience chipped away at the pre-packaged expectations I'd been wrapped in.
High school dances were the worst. Everyone else glided around like they were born knowing what to do, while I was stuck in the awkward zone, overwhelmed by emotions and unsure of how to navigate them. Here, the fluorescent lights seemed to amplify my confusion, casting a harsh glare on my attempts to fit in.
Then, it hit me: being queer wasn't just about who I was attracted to or what my gender identity was. It was about finding a community of people who understood the unique way we see the world. They spoke the same "wait, is this normal?" language, a language born from standing slightly outside the mainstream. It turned out my map wasn't broken, it just led to a different, way cooler section filled with vibrant people and unexpected connections.
Society throws this ‘perfect life’ narrative at us: the house, the kids, the corporate climb. But being queer forced me to ditch that plan and forge my own path. It's about embracing the unknown, even if it means stepping off the map entirely and venturing into the exciting, and sometimes scary, territory of self-discovery. This uncharted land held moments of exhilarating freedom, but also encounters with prejudice and the fear of rejection.
However, within the queer community, I discovered a fierce resilience. We're a vibrant tapestry woven from artists, activists, dreamers, and survivors. We celebrate each other's triumphs, cry over heartbreaks, and remind each other that the truest form of badassery is embracing who you are, unapologetically.
Finding my place in the queer world wasn't always easy. There were times when I wondered if I was "queer enough," a question that highlights the societal obsession with boxes. But guess what? Queerness doesn't fit in any of them. There's no one-size-fits-all way to be queer, and that's what makes our community so beautiful. We're a kaleidoscope of experiences and emotions, a constantly evolving masterpiece. And guess what? Embracing that fluidity is liberating.
This journey of self-discovery led me to become the president of the student-led queer rep group on campus, UniQ. It was a space that on the outside might seem like a token club on campus, but we envisioned something more—a vibrant community hub, a safe space for LGBTQ+ folks to connect, celebrate, and advocate for themselves. Friday spaces where stressed students can come have a snack and study together, upcoming workshops on everything from navigating our collective queer history to how to pick up some essential life skills. Movie nights showcasing a diverse range of LGBTQ+ cinema, challenging stereotypes, and sparking thought- provoking conversations. Each event laid a brick in the foundation of a more inclusive campus culture. Within the walls of UniQ, there is a sense of solidarity that transcends adversity. We learn from each other’s experiences, offering a shoulder to cry on during struggles, and a chorus of cheers during triumphs. It is a space where vulnerability isn’t a weakness but a source of strength, reminding us that we weren’t alone in navigating this ever-evolving landscape of identity.
This is your official invitation to join us, to anyone who feels lost in the labyrinth of societal expectations. Here, your "wait, is this normal?" becomes a badge of honour, a testament to your authenticity. Let your queerness be your compass, guiding you towards a life filled with authenticity, love, and a sense of belonging that's more fulfilling than any beanbag chair. Trust me, we have snacks—and more importantly, we have each other. We're a vibrant tapestry, and there's a space waiting for your thread to join the beautiful, ever-evolving masterpiece that is our community.