Everything starts with belonging.

I’m fat. I’m queer. I’m loud. I take up a lot of space. These characteristics have been with me my entire life. And they have been difficult to carry.

The world is made for small people. Every time I go to a new place, I have to examine the seating to see if I will fit. I’m often tempted to sit in whatever is provided, even if I sit in pain from arm rests digging into my hips or tables digging into my belly so that I don’t have to ask for accommodations. I have grown accustomed to the bruises over the years. Every time I sleep on an unfamiliar bed in hotels or airbnbs, or sit on a friend’s couch, or attend an event— I walk in concerned about whether or not the furniture will hold my weight. I have been told my body is sinful. Every time I ride an elevator and another party enters, I have to endure the judgmental looks of those wondering if I will be the one to outweigh the elevator’s capacity. Every time I go clothes shopping with a friend, I witness the furrowed brow of the employee looking me up and down knowing nothing in the store will fit my body.

Heterosexuality is the default. When Ang and I applied for our marriage license, I wrote my name on the line connected to the word “husband”. When we eat out with a hetero presenting couple, the server assumes that couple is together, yet Ang and I want separate checks. As early as 6th grade, before I even knew that pansexuality was an option, I was the butt of lesbian jokes. Same sex couples are never represented in movies or tv shows without their sexuality being part of the story line. Since coming out, my opinions are not taken as seriously in business meetings. I have seen a longtime friend comment in support of an anti-LGBTQ+ instagram post. I have been told that my family is sinful— worthy of hell.

Women who speak up shouldn’t. In high school and college, I was told over and over by male pastors and leaders that I was not allowed by God to teach from a stage. I was mocked as ridiculous for caring about immigrants and speaking out against injustice. I was called a bitch for being a strong leader. I was told to stop asking questions. Male coworkers have taken my ideas and claimed them as their own. I have been asked to “tone it down” more times than I can count.

I have believed that I don’t deserve comfortable seating, clothing that matches my personality, or good food. I have believed that I am broken, that who I have been attracted to is wrong, I have believed that suffering was the only way God would love me. I have believed that I am too opinionated, too strong, that I needed to quiet my voice to make others more comfortable. This is all bullshit.

I deserve to be comfortable. I deserve to find clothing I like. I deserve to eat delicious food. I deserve to be with whatever human I am drawn to. I deserve to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am loved by God. I deserve to take up space. I deserve to use my voice. I deserve to be heard by men in authority. I know this now. And it all started with believing I belonged. Believing that I was just as worthy of chairs, and beds, and opinions, and love as every. single. other. human being.

And you belong, too. Wherever you are. Exactly as you are. You belong.