Quinn Steele

There was a time in my life when I changed in the closet, too ashamed to be seen. In truth, I was quite attractive. But I felt wrong, as if I should apologize for the way I was, for what I felt and what I stirred in others. It was this last part that had always been an issue, that I was always taking responsibility for – other people’s reaction to me. I lived with my boyfriend at the time, and we had sex very rarely. When I brought it up, he got angry and shamed me for my desire to be intimate with him and accused me of cheating. I made him feel bad about himself; I’d done something to instigate this.

It was not uncommon for people to have strong reactions to me. In high school, my “friend” stood up and slapped me across the face in the middle of class. I made him feel bad about himself; I’d done something to instigate this. In college, a boy I’d met once got angry during a volleyball game and hurled the ball at my face from across the court. I made him feel bad about himself; I’d done something to instigate this.

So, I hid. I suffocated the most powerful parts of myself for fear of making others feel things they didn’t want to feel. I took responsibility for their feelings; I let them bury me away in the closet.

I had something they wanted; I still do. They wanted to possess it, to acquire it by osmosis, penetration, or sheer force. I gave them things I didn’t want to, I tried to fill their holes, as they desperately clawed at mine. But the self persists. There were places inside me they could not get to; I never gave it all away. Sadly, they never experienced the best parts of me, blinded as they were by their own lack.

I don’t have ill will towards these people. They were plagued by their own mistruths.

I no longer change in the closet. Through my writing, I allow myself to be seen, I reveal things that may make others uncomfortable. I make people uncomfortable; it is a curse and a gift. I am learning to embrace that, and the solitude that often accompanies it.

I believe that most of us SHOULD feel uncomfortable if it allows us to grow. Growth IS uncomfortable. I am an agent for growth, and a veteran of personal transformation. I face the discomfort and encourage you to do the same, even if you need to hurl volleyballs at me. Go ahead, I can take it.