Steven LaChance Blog

Alexander Leon once said, “Queer people don’t grow up as ourselves; we grow up playing a version of ourselves that sacrifices authenticity to minimize humiliation and prejudice.” Those words have always resonated with me, capturing the challenges I faced growing up queer. Early on, I learned to conceal parts of my true self—my interests, my speech, even the small quirks that made me unique—just to avoid drawing attention in a world that could be harsh and unforgiving.

In my late twenties, I began to scrutinize the habits that had once provided me safety. Shedding these layers meant confronting which parts of myself were authentic and which were merely defenses against rejection and pain. It felt as if I were witnessing an outdated version of myself disintegrate, making way for a more truthful self to emerge.

I often wondered how I could find my place in a world that seemed to reject my true identity. I realized that embracing self-love was essential, especially during the toughest times. It was disheartening to see my heterosexual peers move through life without needing to justify who they were, while I constantly felt compelled to explain and defend my identity as a gay man. Although I no longer feel that pressure as intensely, it was overwhelming in the beginning.

Some memories still torment me—like the painful laughter at homophobic jokes during family gatherings, where those who were supposed to support me ended up causing profound hurt. It’s agonizing to confront the reality that many of these same individuals, who later claim they always knew I was gay, were complicit in dehumanizing me at my most vulnerable moments. Their actions, as they admitted, left deep wounds that I had to work to heal. I realized that I must distance myself from those who intentionally hurt me, for such behavior is nothing short of verbal and emotional abuse.

As I continue on this journey, I am learning to accept both my strengths and my imperfections. The defenses I once relied on were not rejections of my true self; they were survival tools during a time when the world was unprepared for me. Letting them go now feels like forging a genuine connection with the most authentic part of who I am.

I can’t say that all my masks have disappeared—sometimes they resurface when I feel threatened—but I now recognize that they were tools for survival. Gradually, I am putting them aside to rediscover the person I was always meant to be. This challenging journey demands that I confront past hurts and embrace uncertainty, yet I have found genuine strength in vulnerability. This isn’t merely a rebellion against my past; it is a continuous awakening to honor the unshielded, authentic aspects of my true self.

For me, the process of coming out is never fully finished. I find myself revealing my identity in subtle, everyday ways—quiet declarations of who I am that seek acceptance rather than mere recognition. While supportive words are valuable, they sometimes make me wonder why I need such validation in the first place. I shouldn’t have to defend my right to exist or adjust to a society that judges me by different standards. I believe that acceptance should be granted simply for being who I am.

Ultimately, the layers and masks I once donned as shields have served both as protection and confinement. Each mask represents a chapter of survival—a crucial step that enabled me, and many of us as queer individuals, to navigate spaces that were never truly meant for our authentic selves. Now, as I begin to remove them, I reclaim not only my own authenticity but also affirm our collective right to be fully recognized and embraced. This transition—from concealment to revelation, from defense to genuine self-expression—demands ongoing bravery from every one of us.

Every layer I shed, every mask we discard, brings me and my community closer to a future where being ourselves isn’t a struggle for acceptance, but a celebration of our undeniable, radiant truths. Until that day arrives, I stand firm in my convictions, and I know that when we embark on the unmasking process together, we refuse to return to the confines of our past selves. I have learned that silence equals death, and I hold that truth not only for myself but for every queer person who has been forced to hide. Our struggle will persist until complete acceptance is achieved, and I will never back down or be silenced.