Making Myself A Safe Place For Me (Part One)

An exploration of my internalized homophobia

It was the summer after I finished 2nd grade. My grandmother was babysitting my sister and me. For much of that morning, I was in our furnished basement playing house with my sister and our mutual best friend, J, who was also our neighbor.

At some point in the middle of our playtime, my dad came home from work to have lunch.

"Hey kids! What are you guys doing down there?" Dad said, from the top of the stairs.

Almost immediately, perhaps instinctually, anxiety filled my body. My heart raced. Quickly, I looked at my friend, J, and whispered, "please, don't tell him."

But before I could say the same thing to my little sister, she piped up, "we're playing house...

With my eyes, I tried to wield my sister to shut up, to just stop talking right there. But she didn’t… and I knew my day was about to change.