Untangling What Growing Up Gay Did to Me

In this episode, Donavon unpacks what growing up gay really looks like — the hiding, the internalized shame, the fear of being “too much,” and the quiet survival instincts queer kids learn too early. Through honest storytelling and humor, he digs into how those patterns follow us into adulthood and how to finally untangle them. A grounding, relatable listen for anyone navigating queer identity, coming out scars, or the work of reclaiming who you really are.

Music By DayFox

Chapters

• 0:00 Welcome And Intentions
• 1:46 Holiday Spark And Memory Trigger
• 2:35 The Drumline Smile And Early Edits
• 6:35 Family, Faith, And Learning Secrecy
• 10:40 Cousins, Clothes, And The First Cuts
• 14:05 Reading Rooms And Shrinking Joy
• 18:48 Love, Simon And The Weight Of Outing
• 22:15 Dating To Survive And Lingering Shame
• 25:30 Tiny Rebellions And Taking Up Space
• 27:02 Correction: Reclaiming Safety Over Approval

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:00

It's just like everyone else. We're all trying to unlearn the parts of us that we don't want to carry into the life that we're trying to live. And at some point I realized the danger I was preparing for wasn't even in the room. It was just in me. What's up? Welcome back to Dominations, a podcast about learning to live with care, to move through the myth, and the meaning, and to see yourself a little clearer every time. It's your host, Donovan, and you already know having you here makes my whole damn day. I love it. Thank you for being here. Quick note: before we dive in, donations is a space for reflection and perspective. Although I wish I was, I'm not your therapist, I'm just your cousin with a mic, sharing what's helped me heal and grow. So, as always, take what serves you and leave what doesn't. Okay, can someone please tell me how we're at another holiday season already? I swear, like last week was just October, and now all of a sudden it's time to be festive and thoughtful and sentimental, and I'm just not ready for it. The whiplash is crazy. But I will say, this time of year always gets me thinking deeper than I usually do. I slow down just an inch because that's what they say to do, right? Slow down. And when I do, memories start knocking like, hey, remember me? And this one particular memory from when I was like 12 has been on my mind like crazy. I remember one time I was on the junior high drumline and we were setting up for a pep rally. And one of the older drumline guys was joking around, being dumb, messing around, and we were all just laughing at him. And it was then that I noticed another guy kind of hanging around that wasn't from the drumline. And he was laughing and smiling along too. And I'm not really sure what he was doing because the stage was reserved for the drumline during pep rallies. But he eventually left. And when he did, the older drumline guy that was messing around being dumb turned to everyone and said, That guy is gay. And that kind of put me on alert because I was in the closet at the time. And I wondered immediately what kind of gave this other guy away. Because I had already clocked him myself. I kind of thought he was gay way before the older drumline guy said anything. And someone asked, How do you know? And he said, Because no matter what I do, he just smiles. He doesn't talk. He just laughs and smiles. And it sounds ridiculous, right? Thinking that someone's sexuality is revealed by a smile or a giggle. But I knew exactly what he meant because that was something I did too. I don't know if it was a gay thing, or a bashful around other guys kind of thing, or just one of those don't draw attention to yourself kind of things. But it made sense to me. And so after that day, I literally stopped smiling, so that no one would say I was gay. So that no one would figure me out.

SPEAKER_01: 4:57

Crazy, right?

SPEAKER_00: 5:00

Straight dudes were out there smiling like golden retrievers, and nobody thought twice. But that wasn't the case for us. And that memory is one of the clearest examples I have of not growing up as my full self. I mean, I've always been me, but there were parts of me that got tucked away, like that smile. I grew up hiding anything I was conditioned by family or society or church or school to see as weak or sinful or less than. Anything that wasn't acceptable. Even when I didn't fully understand what being gay meant yet, I already knew and had a general understanding that being queer was something the world looked down on. So I learned to bury the deepest parts of myself. And I remember thinking, if my family finds out this thing about me, they'll hate me. And if anyone at school finds out, they'll either point and laugh, or worse, bully and beat me up. If any part of who I really am slips through, I'll end up alone. And I'll be nothing and worthless and alienated. So almost every waking thought became please let me get through the day without someone making a comment about my voice or my walk or my mannerisms or my smile. I know all of that sounds intense, and maybe suggestive that I didn't have much of a childhood. But that wasn't the whole picture. I had a great childhood. I was blessed and supported, and honestly, spoiled, rotten at times. But at the same time, I was raised Catholic in a Latino home. I couldn't be gay. I couldn't even be creative without someone telling me that's the devil. No, I'm just kidding. I love my culture. And in all seriousness, I'm grateful every day that I had love and support while trying to secretly navigate something I didn't have a map for. And I do know some queer kids didn't have safety anywhere. Not at home, school, or online, or anywhere. And my heart genuinely breaks for them. If I had grown up in their shoes, I don't think I would have made it. I really don't. But even with the love I did have, I still hid pieces of myself from the people who loved me most. And not because I was ashamed of those parts of me, but because humiliation and being singled out or being outcasted felt like these real consequences. Especially as a kid. And as I got older and moved into my teen years, the expectations just got louder. There was this pressure that said what I was supposed to grow out of. And what I was supposed to like. And how I was supposed to act. It was like, okay, by this age, you're supposed to be into sports, into girls, and into more boy things. And I just wasn't there. If I'm being honest, I was still waiting for the Lizzie McGuire movie to come out. And when it did, I was busy reenacting her final performance from the end of the movie as soon as I got home. And the world around me made me feel like I should have been embarrassed by that. And it didn't matter one bit that it made me happy. The only thing that mattered was that it made me noticeable. And noticeable was not safe.

SPEAKER_01: 9:45

You know, kids don't analyze joy.

SPEAKER_00: 9:49

Adults do. Kids just love what they love. And it's wild how quickly the world convinces you that being yourself is something you have to justify. And slowly, from being in the throes of all of that, without even realizing it, I started making these edits to myself. Don't run like that. Don't sound like that. Don't stand like that. Don't smile too much. Don't look excited. Basically, don't give anyone a reason to clock you. Each of those edits became another layer of armor. And when I look back on it, I don't remember choosing to shrink. It was more like I was being shaped and molded. And soon enough it was just muscle memory. And after so long, it didn't even feel like I was editing myself, it just felt like I was following the rules. It was kind of an autopilot thing. It started as safety and then turned into just how I was. All that armor, regardless of how heavy it was, just felt like something I was supposed to carry. And I don't have to tell you or anyone how unfair that is. Or how easily something like that leads to hiding and secrecy. And I think as gay or queer kids, we don't grow up choosing or wanting to live a secret or double life. We're just kind of taught early on, or learn early on, that it might be the only option we have. So we keep things to ourselves. We think we have to do everything in secret. We tuck things away because it feels easier than dealing with whatever reaction might come out of someone's mouth. And for me, that secrecy was born in a bunch of different moments that maybe felt little on the surface, but left a lasting impact that I'd be untangling for a big part of my life. And speaking of those little moments that shape us, growing up, I always hung out with my girl cousins. They were my people. We were closer in age, we liked the same stuff, and we laughed at the same stupid things. That's where I wanted to be. I didn't think anything of it. And honestly, I didn't want to be over with the older boy cousins throwing a football around or trying to outtuff each other. That just wasn't my speed in life growing up. And it's crazy that I enjoy football as much as I do at this point in my life. I'm always looking forward to games, I'm always keeping track of some teams, and I even recently started placing some parlays, which is crazy. But I wonder if maybe a part of me enjoys it now because I can, not because I feel shamed into it. But, anyways, not younger Donovan. He was always with the girls. I did always have this little awareness though in the back of my mind that I wasn't with the other boys when the family got together, and that did feel like a spotlight sometimes, but it didn't stop me. I remember one time my girl cousins and I were hanging out, talking about clothes, and everyone was talking about whatever new pieces of clothing they had come across, and I jumped in and I mentioned this shirt that I saw, and I explained to them that it was just a normal boy shirt. I literally saw a guy wearing it, and it was this windbreaker fabric, and it had this drawstring tie around the bottom edge. Kind of like how cargo pants can tighten that little bungee cord at the ankle. And I was excited about it, and I thought it was cool, and I wanted it, and it was different. And immediately one of them said, Ew. I was like, excuse me? Everyone just kind of stopped talking in that moment and just stared at me, and my little gay spirit was getting ready for a girl fight. No, I'm kidding. I honestly figured that she probably pictured something completely different. Maybe the whole drawstring thing tripped her up, but I didn't even bother explaining. Just sitting there being told you and having everyone stare at me like that, I just shrunk. And I think that was probably one of the first times I understood that other people thought gay and gross lived in the same sentence. Even if I wasn't the one making that connection. The first cuts like that don't always come from hatred. Sometimes they come from confusion or miscommunication, or from people who didn't mean harm, but still teach you what parts of yourself might be a little too much. And that was the first time I realized someone could misunderstand something about me before I even understood it myself. That confusion hits so much harder when you're young. It was the same thing with my boy cousins, but in a more quieter way. They never really said anything to me, uh, but they also didn't have to, if you know what I mean. I'd be walking too fast, or laughing too loud, or moving too freely, and I'd just catch their expressions. And they told me I might want to tone it down. And those faces were made one or two times too many, and I got the message. It conditioned me to think that I needed permission before I relaxed, or that I needed to scan the room and edit myself accordingly and get approval before I could experience joy. You start shrinking like that around your own family, and it starts showing up everywhere else in your life without you even trying. And it shames you into becoming a shell of yourself. I went from being the out loud, full of life, free kid, to being more cautious and more reserved. Sometimes, if I'm being honest, it still feels that way. I'll kind of test the waters, offering a safer version of me first, wherever I am. And it's annoying as hell realizing that my inner child is still running quality control like that. It makes me feel like I'm trying not to get caught again, but I'm not doing anything bad or anything worth being shamed about. I don't want to live like that. You know, it makes me think about the movie Love Simon. I'm a sucker for any gay themed movie or show that comes out. I mean, obviously, like who wouldn't be? I didn't have that representation growing up, so of course I'm gonna be all eyes and ears now. Shamelessly, by the way. And in that movie, Simon was very reserved and cautious around certain people, the way I was when I edited myself. And at one point in it, spoiler alert, by the way, he gets outed at school. So he just comes out to his family in the heat of the moment, and once that dust settles, there's this moment where his mom tells him she knew he was holding on to something, but she didn't know what it was. And she tells him, You get to exhale now. And that line hit me like a bag of bricks because I know what that weight and shame feels like. I too was unfortunately outed in school. It was ninth grade, and I was seeing a boy, the first one I ever liked in that way. And we were figuring it out together in secret, and we decided to trust a couple of our friends with said secret, but they decided to turn it into their gossip. And the next thing we knew, the whole ninth grade class knew about us. And overnight, everyone stopped talking to me, and people acted weird around me. Even my own friends were mad at me. And I had no clue what I did wrong in the whole situation by just liking a boy. But shame is wild. It'll make you believe people have every right to judge you, even when they don't. Some of the kids who turned cold on me when I got outed were gay themselves. Which is crazy. Like the call was coming from inside of the house, or whatever the saying is. It was just all kinds of messed up. And it all made me grow up way faster than I should have had to. But at the same time, it finally allowed me to exhale a little, just like Simon's mom said. And even though the aftermath sucked, I didn't have to work as hard to hide as much. It wasn't the thing that stopped the hiding, though. Not completely. If anything, I kind of just hid more in different ways. And one of those ways was by dating girls. A couple of them I really cared for. They were good to me. But even in the sweetest moments, I knew a part of me was still pretending. Not to trick them, that was never the intention. I just thought it was the only way to avoid blowing up my entire life. And I still hate that I put anyone through that. And I still wonder, to this day, if any of them hold any of it against me. I'm not gonna lie, I still carry some of the shame from that with me. And I wouldn't blame any of them if they still felt some sort of way about it. I 100% own up to that. Sometimes that and just everything gets me sad thinking about how much I'm finally able to express now at this grown age that I wasn't allowed to feel okay expressing before. But at the same time, it's very liberating. Maybe this is exactly when I was supposed to grow into myself to appreciate that process. I'm finally unlearning all the edits. I'm not making small contortions either for anything or anyone. I'm letting myself take up my original shape and space. Lowering my voice without realizing it, checking the temperature of a room before letting myself be myself. Laughing small, shrinking first, and speaking later. And I'm not gonna lie, untangling it all is hard work. And I do slip up sometimes. I'll find myself being skeptical about some people, not allowing myself to just assume everyone is an ally. And sometimes I'll find myself mid-conversation, wondering what people will want to hear, versus the more queer parts of me that are dying to be seen and heard. And I have to really work to bring myself back from that conditioning that still tries to take the will sometimes. It's just like everyone else. We're all trying to unlearn the parts of us that we don't want to carry into the life that we're trying to live. And at some point, I realized the danger I was preparing for wasn't even in the room. It was just in me. And that untangling has looked like tiny rebellions. That's what it's been. It's been laughing loud on purpose. It's been wearing what I actually want to wear and what I like. Showing up without auditioning for the part first. Like, this is me. This is who I am. This is who I want to be. This is who I've always been. And sometimes those little rebellions get labeled as doing too much, even still, or forcing queerness by people who still think being yourself is a performance. But for some of us, for me, it's not just about being loud, it's about being alive. It's about replacing instinct with intention. That's the work. That's how I'm unlearning the edits. Alright, cousin, before we wrap up here, here's what I want you to sit with after this one. We all have some version of that place that we shrink ourselves in. That room or that person or that moment where we learn to play small just to get through it. And a lot of us carried those edits into adulthood without even noticing it. But we're not twelve anymore. You don't have to be the most acceptable version of yourself to be the safest one. Untangling those edits and those things you carried are things you're more than capable of shedding yourself of. And there's no gold star for staying small. You don't owe anyone the shrunk down version of you anymore. The people who are meant for you won't ask you to fit back into it anyway. And with that, I've got the journal prompt for the week. Where in my life am I still playing small out of an old habit? And what would giving myself one more inch of space look like? As always, thanks for listening. Don't forget to visit me on TikTok or Instagram. You can find me at Donovan.biesa. And also be sure to check out the donations.com website. That's d-o-n-a-ti-o-n s.com. You can catch up on the blog and listen to recent episodes and shoot me a DM there. All right, take care of yourself and as always take care of your people. Until the next one. Be careful.