Never felt so free. Never felt so alive.

Last month, I had the honor of being part of the 2005 Black Queer Creative Summit, and it was nothing short of life-changing.

I grew up in a saved, sanctified, Holy Ghost-filled church where being myself was never an option. Looking back, I knew I was always gay, but the adults around me recognized it before I even had words for it. I remember being called “funny acting”—a phrase I cringe at now. As a preacher’s kid, I was constantly told that being gay was wrong, that people with “too much sugar in their tank” needed to assimilate, toughen up, and perform masculinity.