Essay Link Copied 10.11.24

How Coming Out Changed My Relationship With My Body

TikTok creator and host of the Made It Out podcast Mal Glowenke explains the ripple effect of being true to herself. ByMal Glowenke

I’ve known since I was very little that I take zero interest in boys. I always married the girls during our neighborhood play pretend wedding ceremonies, and it wasn’t until I moved to Texas in the second grade that I started to feel like that was wrong.

My gayness, an affront to the heteronormative, Christian lifestyle in the sheltered Texas suburbia I grew up in, never had a fighting chance. I couldn’t even consider what I thought my sexual identity to be before survival instinct unconsciously took over. In a culture that didn’t embrace individuality, conformity became my hard wiring. 

I wondered, If who I am isn’t correct, then what is? I desperately searched outside myself to find my identity. What I discovered was the perfect storm of “traditional family values” and ’90s diet culture. It became obvious to me that the person I should become was a pretty, skinny blonde who married an average man and became a mother by 25. 

In hindsight it’s easy to see how I allowed my childhood bubble to influence my whole identity. It grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to turn my back on the beautiful, wide open, rainbow road I was destined to be cruising down.

Unfortunately, denying my queerness led to a cascade of self-suppression and self-destruction—and my body bore the brunt of it.

Fighting my identity

As I set out to become that perfect straight woman, actively denying who I really was created endless internal conflict. That struggle, fueled by an environment focused on diet and exercise, led to what I now understand as binge eating disorder.

Around the age of 15, I was trapped in a vicious cycle with food, desperate for something to control. I’d go to the drive through, order enough to justify my last “bad” meal, and vow to count every calorie from then on. I’d restrict myself to certain foods for weeks before breaking down. That turned into another binge and the cycle would begin again. 

In an attempt to break the pattern, I turned to amphetamines and became enamored with the pills that helped me restrict. Over time, I developed a dependence that would last well into my twenties. 

In my late teens and early twenties, I leaned deeper into the promise that happiness would come after I had the perfect body, a man, and a white picket fence. While I was still obsessed with becoming smaller, I started to orient my appearance to the male gaze. Studying what turned a man on or away became my obsession. I was sure that once I looked the way straight men wanted to see me, everything would be fixed. I would never have to deal with my feelings toward women or feel unsatisfied with my life.

Of course, my preoccupation with appeasing the male gaze just encouraged more dissatisfaction with my appearance. By 23, I began taking more drastic measures, ushering in my elective surgery era. One quick google search had me booking a breast augmentation.

I arrived on the day of surgery to meet the doctor for the first time (do not do this) and chose an implant size moments before going under. I went into surgery as a B cup and woke up a DDD. The perceived ease at which this changed my body and people’s view of it had me craving more. It wasn’t long before I received liposuction on almost every major area of my body and underwent a Brazilian Butt Lift. 

I dressed my new body in tight dresses and high heels and chased man after man. I hoped they’d be the one to complete the misguided picture I’d attempted to paint for years. 

At that time, I never considered that being a lesbian was an option. Despite the fact that I kissed girls in bars, fantasized about them, and even secretly met up with other curious women from the internet to experiment with, I still bought into the promise of heteronormativity. 

Hitting my breaking point

Around the age of 25, my body began signaling a misalignment, manifesting symptoms that demanded attention no matter how long I ran from them. When I tried to ignore or silence them, they only got louder. The surgeries were catching up to me, causing numbness all over my body and complete loss of sensation in my nipples, and the pressure from my implants began to impact my breathing. 

My mental health was also in decline. My relationship to food was worse than it had ever been before. And I found myself scrolling through dating apps for countless hours, matching and chatting with men for small hits of validation. 

My dad has instilled in me that when something isn’t working, you need to make a change. The shift can be big or small, but the goal is “pattern interruption,” as he calls it. So, at 25, I decided it was time to pack up my entire life and move to Los Angeles on what most would call a whim. 

Within weeks of being in my new city, I learned that there’s something undeniably liberating about starting anew in a place where you’re a complete stranger. It felt like shedding my skin, leaving the baggage of the past behind and stepping into a world of possibility. I got the sense that this was a unique opportunity to become the person I’ve always wanted to be. 

The first thing I did upon settling in LA was add women as an option to my dating apps. I hoped to find another secret hookup, but I wound up on a seven-hour date with a lesbian. That night, I felt more seen and understood than I had my entire life. Being around someone who identified as an out lesbian made me realize that it was a real possibility for me. It was the first time I even considered it.

This is what I now refer to as my “gay panic” moment. I was shocked to realize there was no turning back. I am gay, and I always have been. 

Even though this moment brought so much relief and excitement for the future it also brought the fear of leaving everything I had ever thought to be right behind. This was the beginning of an unraveling.   

Making amends with my body

Being able to enjoy sex with a woman openly and freely was daunting after hiding my desires for 27 years. Surrendering to something that was labeled wrong or shameful by the heteronormative, conservative, relgious community I was raised in went against my instincts. But once I gave in, that was it. 

Part of that was because sex finally made sense to me. After years of listening to women talk about it and never relating to a word, I finally understood. When I slept with a woman, I felt real pleasure for the first time. It was uninhibited and guilt-free pleasure. 

That experience opened me up to a world of possibility. What else had I been denying myself based on other people’s expectations and religious standards I never agreed with? 

Coming out and living authentically gave me a deeper understanding of just how much I’d done to my body out of obligation and validation seeking. I was so caught up in pleasing others and attempting to meet their criteria, I never felt the agency to say no to them or yes to myself. Instead of giving my body what it wanted or needed, I chased an idealized, hetero version of me that made everyone else happy. 

That self-sacrifice made it easy for my disordered eating to take over. It also made impulsively altering my body with surgical procedures a no-brainer. Conformity trumped authenticity at every turn. 

But, ultimately, embracing my sexuality was the catalyst to radically accepting every part of myself. It quieted the noise telling me to change, making it easier to hear my own desires. That gave me the clarity to finally address my disordered eating and find internal sources of self-worth.

I started by mourning how I’d treated my body up to this point. I sat with my anger, sorrow, and regret and gained a deeper understanding of what parts of myself were truly important to me. Turns out, being pretty, blonde, and skinny weren’t actually at the top of my list. 

Letting go of those standards helped loosen my need for control over what I ate. Before I came out, I thought having the perfect body (and a man and suburban Texas life) would lead to happiness. But when I let that idea go, my mindset shifted. I didn’t feel compelled to punish my body in the pursuit of an ideal I no longer subscribed to. While it wasn’t an instant fix for my disordered eating, it kicked off a healing process that eventually led me to talk to my therapist about my relationship with food and my body.

I also underwent explant surgery two years after coming out. It became obvious that the alterations I made to my body were the last piece of my straight identity I needed to shed to fully move on. Afterward, a literal and figurative weight was lifted off of my chest. 

Coming out has been the single most profound thing I have ever experienced. It has helped me restore my relationship to myself, teaching me to rely on my inner knowing and forgive my missteps. Overall, being true to myself has forced me out of deep neglect and disconnection into a life centered on self-love. 

But queer people aren’t the only ones who can come back home to themselves. I encourage anyone to think about what aspects of yourself you’ve been denying or neglecting. When you’re ready, lean into the parts you’ve been trying to hide from. Own them, embrace them in broad daylight, shout them from the rooftops. Find your own rainbow road and take the next exit onto it.

The post How Coming Out Changed My Relationship With My Body appeared first on Wondermind.

Pro Tips Link Copied 06.13.24

How to Be There for Young Trans People

They need the support of adults in their lives now more than ever.  ByAlo Johnston, LMFT

Being a transgender person in the world today is hard, and being a young transgender person is even harder. Recently, it seems like any discussion of gender identity has been extremely politicized, with many lawmakers and school districts appearing dedicated to making it even harder for trans youth to thrive. 

Unfortunately, we know that more than half of trans and nonbinary youth seriously considered suicide in the past year, according to a 2022 survey from The Trevor Project. But that same survey confirmed that having a gender-affirming home or school reduced the risk of suicidal ideation among this group. Clearly, trans youth need the support of adults in their lives now more than ever. 

As a licensed marriage and family therapist and transgender man, I have worked with many families to help them figure out how to support their trans child. So, whether you’re a parent, grandparent, teacher, or the cool aunt (who may or may not actually be related), here are some tips for supporting trans and nonbinary youth. 

1. Don’t worry if it’s a phase—support them anyway!

In my therapy practice I’ve talked to many parents who have worried that their adolescent child just thinks they’re trans. They wonder if this is a passing phase like their interest in Minecraft or that year where they were obsessed with wearing vampire teeth. 

But gender is different and something we understand about ourselves in a different way. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, children start to be conscious of gender around the age of 2, and usually by the age of 4 they have a stable sense of their gender identity. While not everyone will follow that exact timetable, this means that trans kids might be coming to terms with their gender identity while everyone around them says they’re wrong, confused, or just playing pretend. 

I have a distinct memory of a substitute teacher in elementary school who “mistook” me for a boy. All my friends were outraged on my behalf. And I remember thinking, Oh I guess I’m supposed to be offended by that, but deep down I didn’t understand why. Looking back now I can see that I actually felt affirmed when people saw me as a boy, but every signal I got from adults and other kids was that I couldn’t let people think that about me. 

Whether trans kids are proudly proclaiming “I’m a boy” while their parents and teachers say “no honey, you’re a girl” or are quietly confused as to why they are being separated onto the wrong team of boys vs. girls, trans kids have an internal sense of their gender the same way cisgender kids do. So, chances are, by the time they are sharing their gender identity with you they have spent a long time thinking about it and navigating the difference between what they’ve been told about themselves and how they actually feel internally. 

According to the 2022 U.S. Transgender Survey (the largest survey to date on trans people in the U.S., with 92,329 respondents), nearly all respondents (94%) who live in a different gender than the one they were assigned at birth said they were either a lot more satisfied or a little more satisfied with their life. This echoes the body of research showing that detransition is uncommon. 

Still, you might be wondering if this child’s experience is that uncommon one. The good news is you don’t have to do anything different! Whether it is a phase or not, the most useful thing you can do is support them, affirm them, and be open and interested in their experience. Your support is invaluable either way. It allows them to figure things out for themselves while knowing they have safe supportive adults in their life that they can share with. 

2. Use their chosen name and pronouns.

The simplest way to affirm a trans person’s identity is to use the language that they ask you to use. One study found that using their chosen name reduces the risk of suicidal behavior in trans and gender nonconforming youth by 56%! This is by far the simplest act you can take that will have a huge positive impact on their mental health.

If you know a young person who has come out but hasn’t yet told you what to call them, you may want to ask them privately. You can also ask if there are certain contexts in which they do or don’t want to use that name and those pronouns. You could say something like: “Is there a different name or pronouns you’d like me to use for you? And do you just want me to use them around certain people?” 

Keep in mind that some people use they/them pronouns as a singular pronoun, and that can be a hard adjustment if you’ve never used these pronouns to refer to one person before. It’s OK if it doesn’t come naturally, but you will only get better by practicing. A Quick & Easy Guide to They/Them Pronouns is a great resource for this.

3. Parents, talk to other parents.

If you’re the parent of a child who has just told you they’re trans or nonbinary, you might be scared and confused. That’s totally normal! Where do you even start? It’s a lot to take in and it can be a big adjustment. You have to come to terms with your expectations of what you thought their life would look like. Not only that, but you may have a lot of questions about legal or medical transition (if that is something your child is interested in) and you might not know how to get reputable information.

My biggest piece of advice to parents is: Find a community of other parents to talk to. You might not feel ready to talk to a therapist or a doctor just yet, but you still don’t have to do this alone. There are many parents who have had the same fears and doubts as you and they have also had to work through their complex feelings and figure out what to do next.

PFLAG is a great place to start looking for a community of other parents. You may also find that there are parent groups associated with hospitals that have trans youth programs. Even if you’re in a rural area there are likely online groups that you can attend. Don’t worry, no one is going to make you talk before you feel ready, and no one is going to force you to do anything. Try attending a group and keep an open mind. 

4. Be clear in your support.

What should you do if you suspect a young person you know is questioning their gender identity? Do you say something? Sometimes it feels like the best choice is to just stay quiet until they’re ready, but kids and teens often don’t know if it’s safe to say something. So, make sure you have created an environment of safety and support around them.

That might look like talking about how your family supports the LGBTQIA+ community, mentioning friends and loved ones who are queer and trans in positive ways (and if you don’t have any then it might be the time to expand your social circles), or simply telling them that you’re always available to talk. They need to know you will love them no matter what and that you mean it. And if you live in a community that is not the most affirming, make sure they know you will do everything in your power to keep them safe and advocate for them. 

5. Keep learning.

This article is just a starting point and you will certainly have more questions from here. Try to stay curious and continue to engage with books and educational content about the trans experience. The trans youth in your life will greatly appreciate your efforts.

Some books to help you as an ally include:

• Out: A Parent’s Guide to Supporting Your LGBTQIA+ Kid Through Coming Out and Beyond
• Free To Be: Understanding Kids & Gender Identity
• The Transgender Child
• The Transgender Teen 

And if you want to understand more about the transgender experience and common thoughts and feelings, you can check out my book: Am I Trans Enough?: How to Overcome Your Doubts and Find Your Authentic Self.

The post How to Be There for Young Trans People appeared first on Wondermind.

Stories Link Copied 06.07.24

8 Ways to Be There for Someone Who Came Out Later In Life

“The best thing we can receive is love, support, and the security of knowing things haven't changed.” ByAnna Borges

When someone you care about comes out as LGBTQ+, you might have a lot of feelings—especially when you’ve known them as a certain sexuality or gender for a long time. Even when the news that they’re not straight or cisgender is no big deal, you might still have questions. When did they know? Why didn’t they come out to you sooner? Do you need to adjust your language and behavior? How can you be there for them and not be totally weird about it? 

Because everyone’s wants and needs are so different, there aren’t always straight answers (ba dum tss) to these questions. But there are still some solid ways to show your loved one extra understanding, reassurance, and love after they come out. To give you a better idea of what support can look like, we asked people who have been through this journey to share what they wished the people in their lives did (and didn’t do). Here are a few places to start. 

1. First up, ask how you can be there for them. 

“I came out as nonbinary using they/them pronouns shortly after I turned 32. I don’t know if it’s just me, but I think it’s imperative to ask questions if you’re comfortable and close with the person. If you can ask them how they feel safe and carry that out, it is a huge relief. This isn’t to say be overly cautious to the point of being patronizing or shielding a loved one. But rather it’s important to check in on how a loved one feels safe, especially as they’re in this new vulnerable place because the world outside of close loved ones can feel additionally draining, dismissive, and antagonistic.” —Evan W., 32

2. If they’re pumped, be pumped with them. 

“I came out right after my 28th birthday. My dad died suddenly a few months earlier and I was just like, I need to change my life. Now! My friends supported me by listening to me talk through it—a lot of ‘Am I bi or lesbian?’—and just accepting it. My mom struggled and that bummed me out, but my friends made up for that. Everyone was so excited when I met my girlfriend and couldn’t wait to meet her, too. It made me feel really loved.” —Katie M., 30

3. Listen without judgment.

“My coming out as bisexual happened over several years in my late 20s and early 30s. First, I came out to my romantic partners with mixed results. Some were very kind and accepting, others fetishized it, and others dismissed it entirely. One partner said I was ‘half gay’, which felt really othering and like they didn’t see me for who I was. I then came out to friends and family, who were both very positive overall. 

“The best way people supported me was by seeing me fully, putting aside how they imagined they saw me or what they thought, and just listening to what I was saying and offering their support. Your main job is to listen and offer support and reassurance when it’s needed. Coming out is about us fully sharing who we are, and the best thing we can receive is love, support, and the security of knowing things haven’t changed.” —Trevor L., 32

4. Don’t question their truth. 

“I came out first as demisexual, or on the asexual spectrum, then as nonbinary in my early 40s. Then, a few years ago, I came out as two-spirit, as I’m also a person of Indigenous descent. My friends supported me for the most part. Family was a mixed bag but they didn’t say much about it. If someone tells you that they’re queer, trans, or nonbinary, believe them. Be honest but respectful, love them, and ask them what they need from you. Listen to them!” —Maya G., 50

5. Process your feelings privately.

“I came out at the age of 28 after being in a relationship with a woman for 6 years. My parents appeared supportive at first, but my mom told my dad that she was worried about what I would get up to. He told me everything she told him, so I knew she was having a hard time coming to terms with it. Eventually, my mom and I were able to have a proper adult conversation about my struggles, and she understood my perspective and I understood hers. I still have a close and loving relationship with her. I do wish she had a better initial reaction. Don’t make it about yourself. At the end of the day, the person coming out to you is revealing a part of themselves they kept hidden for a reason and your love and support is what they need to get through the emotional rollercoaster of coming out late in life.” —Ryan G., 32

6. Don’t sweat the small slip-ups.  

“I figured out that I was queer when I went to university and was finally exposed to the idea that it wasn’t a bad thing. It took until I was 32 to find out I was trans. My friends were very accepting and supported me immediately—probably because I had cultivated friendships with queer-positive people. They all switched to my new name very quickly, and I spent more time reassuring them that the occasional slip-up was not a problem than correcting them.” —Charlotte M., 34

7. Treat them how you normally would.

“I came out when I was 32, shortly after divorcing my husband. We remained friends and I was nervous to come out as I didn’t want people to think any differently about him. For those looking to support loved ones who come out later in life, treat them the same as before. Check in with them and ask questions as you normally would. When I came out to my friends in New York, it was tough because I wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Thankfully, I had a supportive group of girlfriends in the city. My advice is simple: Don’t treat them differently, be curious, and keep an open mind. We’re already nervous about telling you, so your support means everything.” —Cathryn L., 37

8. Stand up for them, even when it’s hard.

“I didn’t come out but I was forcibly outed by my mother at 24. My immediate family supported her, and horrible things were said about me and to me. She tried to get my aunt (her sister) and my grandma (her mother) to join. But both refused, to my surprise. I remember my aunt and her daughter sitting me down and telling me they accept and love me no matter what. My aunt told me that sometimes our parents just can’t be who we want them to be. Sometimes our parents fail us. It was a horrible thing to come to terms with, but in the end, it was essential to my growth and healing. I think the best support is unapologetic. It’s easy to support someone when nothing is opposing them, but when you stand in the face of your own loved ones to support the queer people in your life, it means even more.” —Savanah L., 29

The post 8 Ways to Be There for Someone Who Came Out Later In Life appeared first on Wondermind.

Essay Link Copied 10.25.23

7 Ways Beyoncé’s Renaissance Era Basically Healed Me

More than a year later, ‘Break My Soul’ remains my spiritual balm. ByP. Ryan Grant, PsyD

I remember the beginning of Beyoncé’s Renaissance era like it was yesterday. June 2022 was coming to an end, and I, Dr. P. Ryan Grant, a budding bad bitch, was also a hot mess. I was a broke psychology grad recently out of a situationship, two months and one licensure exam away from starting my career as a psychologist. And I constantly second-guessed myself.

But right as I was navigating a personal storm, my forever fave Beyoncé Knowles-Carter dropped a single, “Break My Soul.” It had been seven years since her explosive rock- and country-infused Lemonade album. And with this one track, Bey gave us a single that embodied the house and disco stylings of Grace Jones, Robin S., and Crystal Waters. 

With the single on repeat, I momentarily escaped the stress of that unsuccessful situationship and moved my body carelessly as I ushered in this brand new Bey era—an era that reminded me of Saturday nights I spent as a kiddo, uninhibited, free from anxiety, and dancing in my room to house mixes on Philadelphia’s radio. The soul-stirring vibe made me forget about all the compounding B.S. At that moment, I knew that whatever Bey was ready to serve, I was ready to receive. 

And then, of course, came Renaissance—a full-length dance album that embodies all things Black and gay. To say that this album healed me would be an understatement. So, if you too are feeling like a passenger on the hot mess express, I’d encourage you to grab some headphones, cancel your plans, and buckle up. And if that feels hyperbolic, let me explain just a few ways that Beyoncé’s Renaissance changed my mental health for the better. 

It helped me see myself.

In a time when politicians are pushing homophobic rhetoric (laws restricting bodily autonomy, ignorant book bans—you know the type), Beyoncé gathered a Justice League of LGBTQIA+ creatives and influences (TS Madison, Syd, Big Freedia, and Moi “Miss Honey” Renee, among others) and made a musical masterpiece that unabashedly saluted the queer community on a global, mainstream level. 

As I listened to Renaissance promptly at midnight on July 29, 2022, I was speechless and overcome with joy and gratitude for Beyoncé for seeing me—seeing other queer folxs (like her Uncle Johnny, who inspired the album)—and giving us our time to shine. 

As a child, I remember being bullied for people assuming I was gay, and I remember having no representations for what a successful, free, and completely out gay Black man could be. Now, joy surrounds me as I witness the biggest pop star of our lifetime provide the imagery I craved as a kid, affirming that the identities I was bullied for are what make me amazing.

In my book, Internalized Homonegativity Among Same Gender Loving Black Men, I reflect on how, whenever we see people who look like us or share our identities thriving and achieving more than what we’ve been told we can, our brains begin rejecting the limitations put on us and register our full potential. I’ve been scared to speak, set boundaries, or just exist in various spaces because of the softness of my voice, the curviness of my body, the thickness of my glasses. But Bey inspired me to celebrate the individual I’m blessed to be by outwardly celebrating people like me—in front of the entire world.

It affirmed my direction.

After I sent that failed situationship “to the left,” it felt like a little of my confidence walked out the door with him. I was unsure of myself and my choices. 

Still, Bey’s Renaissance told me to remember who the fuck I was. “Alien Superstar” reminds me that I’m “one of one,” and if this man couldn’t recognize it, another one would. “Move” stresses that when I enter any space, fear, insecurity, and uncertainty need to “part like the Red Sea” (shoutout Grace Jones). And “Thique” encouraged me to look in the mirror and remember that the winner in this story was me.  

The album gave me the confidence boost I needed to close a chapter. Nothing could hold me back from the season of greatness I was entering. 

It validated my childhood struggles.

Renaissance was also there this summer, when I learned a relative had little to no capacity for my queerness. I was embarrassed and immediately reverted to being a shy kiddo who cowered under stings of bullying and peer rejection, and who felt like he had no community and no space to exist fully without judgment. I blamed myself. 

To be honest, my challenges with staying fully present and confident are often fueled by past (and current) rejection or neglect that’s directly linked to my identity. And can’t we all relate to that? Whether we’ve had early experiences of rejection, neglect, bullying, or an emotionally unstable environment, many of our present challenges (relational, mental, or emotional) can be traced to past hurt. I’ve seen that among my clients. 

It’s true what those TikTok girlies talking about “healing your inner child” or “reparenting yourself,” say: Acknowledging past pains and finding ways to heal those hurts can benefit you today. In my case, healing meant diving into the affirming words of the Renaissance album. 

It might sound too simplistic to be true, but sometimes when you’re going through it, you just need a simple positive affirmation to pull yourself back into a healthy mindset. 

Renaissance challenged me (and still does) to be audacious in my existence and not waste time with people who don’t have the capacity to accept or love me. Instead of dimming my light, I remembered the lyrics in “Cozy” that encouraged me to get “comfortable in my skin [and] cozy with who I am.” The words of “Church Girl” reminded me that “I ain’t tryna hurt nobody” and “nobody can judge me but me.” As I listen to this album (over and over again), I can’t help but feel invigorated by the call of “Break My Soul” to “release my mind” and “let go of the stress”—the family stress, man stress, job stress, the list goes on.

It became a source of hope.

It would be almost a year (which felt like a lifetime) before Beyoncé kicked off The Renaissance World Tour in Sweden on May 10, 2023. But knowing this tour was going to happen gave me hope when I was still navigating the impacts of the pandemic and struggling to find some normalcy in my life. Imagine chilling (or Zooming) with your homies, catching up on life, lamenting about bills, or figuring out the cesspool dating scene, and someone says, “Yeah, but that Renaissance Tour, though!” Everyone immediately fell into a positive, more relaxed space, was ready to belt, “Tip, tip, tip on hardwood floors!” and share their testimony of how Beyoncé and her Renaissance had made life a little more bearable. 

It gave me courage.

A week before I saw Beyoncé’s show in Houston, I headed to my family’s home country of Jamaica to attend a celebration for the LGBTQ+ community at a welcoming resort (an important detail in a historically and contemporarily homophobic island). But fear flooded my mind and body before the plane touched down. I thought, Bitch, is this a trap? What if the rumors of gay folx getting imprisoned or killed are true and you end up jailed or worse? My heart raced, butterflies filled my belly, and beads of sweat dotted my forehead. I couldn’t believe I dared to visit as an openly gay Black man! I was showing up in a way that’s been forbidden, watered down, and suppressed by my church, school, peers, family, and by society for decades.  

To regulate my fears, I slipped on my headphones and turned on—duh—Renaissance and was immediately encouraged by lyrics like, “If you don’t seek it, you won’t see it // That we all know,” and, “Looking for something that lives inside me.” As I listened to “Break My Soul” (yes, again!), it felt like Bey was telling me to shed the expectations, insecurities, and biases that have run my life and left me feeling unworthy of humanity, freedom, and love. Basically, I can create my own version of happiness. And, not for nothing, I was reminded “I’m That Girl,” and that “these motherfuckers ain’t stopping mе.”

To be clear, her bars didn’t necessarily erase all my fears, and I believe I would’ve still gone on this trip had Renaissance never been released, but it did make me a whole lot more confident. Bey’s, “you can have the stress and not take less,” lyrics reinforced that going scared is better than not going at all—something I’ve learned in my work as a therapist. With all those affirmations, I was ready to strut into paradise in all my Black gay glory, with my butterflies, sweat, and pounding heart.

It fostered community.

On Sunday, September 23, 2023, in H-Town, I finally witnessed the phenomenal Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter in person at a packed stadium in her hometown. And I came prepared, dressed in my “doms in the back” black sheer cutout top, leather corset belt, “Miss Honey” choker, and black Louboutin ankle boots with a four-inch heel. 

At the show, I felt part of a loving community of so many other Black and queer people who could relate to these same emotions. We were a community that, while at the concert, was free and safe to be us. A feeling of catharsis overtook me, tears welled up in my eyes, my feet bounced up and down with every song change (in heeled Loubis, remember), and my heart raced. Even though I’d return to the stress of the external world in under two hours, I felt connected, affirmed, and supported knowing I was surrounded by people who shared the same values. And that feeling stuck with me even after the concert. 

It helped me enter a new phase of my life.

We’re still, presumably, only in the first stage of this three-act project (yup, the upcoming concert movie is still just the beginning), and—just like the rest of the Beyhive—I can’t wait for what comes next. 

Through her artistry, Beyoncé has given me a blueprint for what life can be if I get out of my head and get into the present. I can transform into my best Beyoncé. I can show up despite fear or embarrassment. I can become an example of how the world can be a freer, safer, more affirming place. Who knows, maybe I can be a triple threat psychologist, podcaster, and first Black gay male Real Housewife (Bravo, let’s talk). But the first step is remembering that I’m “one of one.” I owe it to myself and others to live out loud.

The post 7 Ways Beyoncé’s Renaissance Era Basically Healed Me appeared first on Wondermind.

Q&A Link Copied 09.18.23

David Archuleta Is Starting Over

“It's almost like I have a second chance at life that I didn't know I was able to have.” ByShannon Barbour

If you were around for the early days of American Idol, chances are you were rooting for David Archuleta, the Season 7 runner up who has continued to churn out new music and maintain a loyal following over the years. Following his emotional 2020 Therapy Sessions album (which was like the ultimate venting session), Archuleta is back with a few new songs and an album coming soon. And this era wouldn’t be complete without a whole new vibe that reflects just how liberated and energetic he feels since tapping into his mental health and sharing that he’s part of the LGBTQ+ community, he tells Wondermind.

Here, Archuleta opens up about being true to himself, stepping away from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints after coming out in 2021, and finding a new community. 

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WM: How are you doing lately, and how are you feeling about your new music?  

David Archuleta: I just released a song, “I’m Yours,” and it’s different from other things I’ve released because it’s more dancey and vibrant, and it was just about being in a good place in life. I wanted to show people where I am now. I’ve had several transitions in life, and I think a lot of people are like, Whoa, what is he gonna be now? Is he gonna be OK? Is he gonna be sad? I just wanted to show people this is what it feels like, and it’s so gratifying. 

Every song [on my upcoming album] shows the progression of this journey of what it feels like when you hit a low point and you feel like, I don’t know how I’m gonna get out of this, and I don’t know where to go from here. It’s about how it feels to pick yourself back up, start over, and learn how to find meaning in life again. I feel like I’m putting the pieces back together, and I feel alive again. 

WM: What stands out to you in your mental health journey?

DA: Therapy helped me so much to get to a place where I understood myself. Before that, I looked at myself through the lens of what my parents raised me on or as someone who was on American Idol when I was 16 years old. I looked at myself through the lens of the public, and I used that to define me. And I grew up as a Latter-day Saint, aka the Mormons, and I used that lens to see myself and identify myself. While all those parts are a big part of what makes me who I am now and gives me my unique perspective on life, it was limiting.  

It worked at the time. But as far as understanding my sexuality, for example, I could only understand myself so much in the lens of what other people think of me. … So therapy really helped me to learn how to see for myself, with my own eyes, with my own mind, with my own heart and my own intuition versus this is what my parents think of me, this is what my bishop thinks of me at church, or this is what my fans think of me. 

That was a scary process because I had to let go of a security blanket. … To let go of what you’ve always known and what you’ve used as the lens to see your life and have to change that is so scary. … But it’s an improvement, and that’s what life feels like for me now with those changes.

WM: What helped you find the courage to be true to yourself? 

DA: To be true to who I was, I had to help myself understand what that would mean. I was raised to believe that if your sexuality was anything different from being straight, it was going to be a disservice not just to yourself, but to everyone around you. You were gonna mess up what makes life work for everybody. I didn’t want to mess up life for anyone, including myself. So that was really difficult for me. 

But when I got down to it, I realized that not everything you’re told is how things are. … For me, that [happened with my] sexuality. … Sometimes you have to realize they didn’t have the full picture. I can feel attracted to someone who’s an adult who’s consenting and just wants to have a better life and help someone else have a better life just like I do. It just happens that we feel that natural chemistry and a better interaction with someone of the same sex rather than someone of the opposite sex. It doesn’t mean that it’s harmful. 

If anything, it’s less harmful, because when I tried to get into relationships with other women, they would always tell me, “You’re so cold. You’re so distant, and something feels wrong.” It was because they didn’t feel the chemistry. I was like, I’m doing everything I know to make this work. I’m giving you flowers. I’m spending time with you, your family and friends, and my family and friends. But in our culture, people generally like to feel romance and feel loved, supported, wanted, and desired [laughs]. 

I had people in my church saying, “Well, you just need to find the right girl, because that’s what worked for me.” And I’m like, “What if that worked for you, but it doesn’t work for me? And what if another guy works for me better than another woman?” That was hard for them to grasp. So I needed to find my own way. 

I had to realize just because their life is different, that doesn’t mean you have to convince them. I still fight with that, like fighting to try and convince other people, and you can’t do that to everybody. I’ve had to learn how to be like, It’s OK if other people would be disappointed in me or will misunderstand me or even fear me. I know who I am, I know where my heart is, and I’m just trying to live a good life and be kind and learn how to be better and move past whatever trauma and bad habits I have. I feel like that is the healthiest environment for me. 

WM: What would you say to other people who might be struggling with something similar, like with their identity and religion?

DA: It’s so difficult because when you find a community, it’s your world. They’re your friends. They affect your whole purpose for living day to day. Religion can really help you feel a sense of belonging, feel a sense of purpose of why you’re here, put more effort into your life, to work harder, to hold meaningful values and meaningful relationships. But sometimes there are certain things about a culture and beliefs that can minimize other people. For example, a lot of queer people, people from the LGBTQ+ community, are not the majority. So people think there’s something wrong with them or they’re bad or they’re intentionally trying to be rebellious toward the normal system that everyone else experiences in life. They get vilified.

I tried [to fit into my religion] for a few more years [after realizing it wasn’t working for me]. I got to a point where I’m like, Oh my gosh, I really cannot fake this. As a musician and a person who was always taught truth is the most powerful, beautiful thing … I felt like I was dying inside to have to pretend. 

When it became clear that I didn’t have that option [to live differently], I was devastated. I was breaking down ’cause I was like, This is the only way. I don’t know how else to live life. I was born into my faith; it was all I knew and all people talked about. It was my whole world. It was like my bubble. 

Sometimes change is scary. It’s terrifying. You think you’re gonna lose everything you know and everything that gave you meaning and purpose. But—like they would say in church—I can give my testimony that it will be OK. Let your intuition guide you, whether you still believe in a god or if you don’t. Trust in that feeling because usually it’s guiding you to be a better person, live a healthier and happier life—even if you can’t see what’s on the other side. … Because if I’d stayed there, I don’t know how much longer I could have managed to do that. I don’t know how much longer I would’ve been alive ’cause I know a lot of other people who are in my situation who tried to stay in the faith, and they didn’t make it.

Even though it’s scary and people will warn you and tell you you’ll lose your life, I can tell you coming on this side, even though I’m freshly on this side of things, it’s almost like I have a second chance at life that I didn’t know I was able to have. If you’re like me where you want to still have some kind of spiritual connection, there’s no one way of doing things. You can find what works for you. You can include spirituality in whatever way you’re able to process it. 

WM: Where do you find your sense of belonging now? 

DA: I’ve been able to keep some friends from my old life, and I’ve had to make adjustments and find my new place. I know a lot of people don’t have the option to move, but I’ve uprooted from where I was before in Nashville, and now I’m more in LA. I feel like I needed a change of environment. You just feel like, No one’s gonna understand me. I’m so weird. I’m so different because I’m not like anyone from my previous community. I would encourage you to put yourself out there, even through online communities if you’re not able to leave your bubble. … It’s hard because when you’re in your bubble, everyone thinks, Oh no. We’ve lost you. We need to help save you and bring you back onto the path. 

I realize even more that I have to separate myself to find community. I feel like community is still so important. That’s what’s beautiful about religion, the sense of community and sharing a common goal. I still love that aspect of it. I just have to create that in my own way now. … The more I share my story, the more I find people who support, love, and accept me where I’m at and cheer me on as I move forward. I wish that upon anyone, that you can find a sense of belonging wherever you are and that people can celebrate what may be different about you, but also be able to still find the common ground of: you’re just human beings trying to live a good life and be happy and creative and feel inspired and find healing and trying to leave your surroundings a little better than when you first got there. 

WM: What else do you want to share about mental health? 

DA: Allow yourself to be heard. Let your emotions come through and find a channel for them. … Allow yourself to grieve when you need to. Allow yourself to laugh when you need to. Allow yourself to talk when you need to. Allow yourself to transition and change when you need to.

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.

The post David Archuleta Is Starting Over appeared first on Wondermind.

Q&A Link Copied 09.15.23

Valentina Wants You to Know That You Are More Than Your Traumas

The ‘Drag Race’ legend opens up about fame and depression. ByShannon Barbour

As a two-time contestant on RuPaul’s Drag Race (Season 9 and All Stars 4), the glamorous and hilarious Valentina quickly became a fan favorite. And it didn’t take long for industry bosses to catch on and cast her in productions like In the Heights and Rent:Live. 

This year, Valentina continued to delight fans as a host, judge, and mentor on Drag Race México (streaming on Wow Presents Plus). And, on top of everything, she always finds a way to be an outspoken mental health advocate, recently partnering with the Trevor Project México and the Hispanic Federation to raise awareness around crisis prevention resources. 

Here, Valentina opens up about taking care of her mental well-being in the spotlight, being the source of her own healing, and her praise for the young LGBTQ+ community. 

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WM: How are you doing lately? 

Valentina: I’m doing very well lately. I’m very grounded at home, preparing for a lot that’s to come. A lot of my career is planning for things in advance and manifesting a very bright future, so I’m doing good. 

WM: You’re all about being confident and proud of who you are. What’s giving you confidence these days? 

Valentina: Not being perfect. I’m really confident in knowing that I’m the source of all the solutions for my life, for my career, for the love that I have. I am the source, and as long as I’m at my purest form of authenticity and maintaining great mental health, I can have more. That really does require confidence in knowing that maybe I’m not gonna be OK all the time. So I’m really confident in not being perfect and being OK with the reality of life being made of highs and lows. 

WM: When you’re having a low moment, is there anything that helps you lift your mood or helps you process those emotions?

Valentina: Positive affirmations. Do not dwell on the things you cannot control and control the things you can. Meaning: Don’t fast forward too much into the future where you’re stressed out about things that haven’t happened. Worry about what’s at arm’s length, and worry about that specifically and first to get to the next level. 

Also, don’t come forward in life with all the baggage of your previous traumas. Sometimes in the present, you can use previous trauma to say, “Sorry, I’m reacting this way because things have happened to me in the past.” That’s another thing that is really good to work on because life does not consist of your previous traumas. People don’t always know that you’ve been through that, so you shouldn’t bring that to the table. Trying to detach from it and allowing things to be in their purest form without your trauma being involved is really helpful. And really focus on curing your spirit and know: I’m not a bag of trauma, and I’m not making this person pay for something that I’ve been through. I think there’s something in that, and all those tools can help alleviate engaging in toxic behavior or allowing anxiety to come into your life.

WM: When you reflect on your mental health journey, what stands out? 

Valentina: Well, I definitely would say that I’ve been to the depths of my despair recently, and it was the very lowest point of my depression. I’ve been depressed constantly since I could remember as a child. I had such a low that I got so scared that I never wanna go back to that point. It was so low that I’m so strong now on the other side and making sure my body doesn’t fall into the trap of depression to the point where I’m riddled with these thoughts of suicide in my mind. I’ve never gotten to that point. But once you get to that side, it’s not really somewhere you wanna ever go back. … It was a pivotal point in my life to find purpose, to be reborn, to rise from the ashes like a phoenix, like I’ve done many, many times. But this time, it hit different. 

WM: As somebody who has had depressive episodes before, have you been able to notice any triggers that let you know you need to check in on your mental health? 

Valentina: I’m always practicing ways to stay grounded nowadays, but I really do think I live such an intense lifestyle. I’m not your average everyday person. First and foremost, I’m an artist, so I’m extremely creative. Second, I’m queer, so I’m already combating the rules of society by being non-binary and being in a system that is created to work against me. Finally, I am a public figure [living a] celebrity lifestyle, which is a big sacrifice to my mental health, my privacy, my autonomy of deciding who I am and where I go and what I should be. 

The expectations to maintain a level head and to say the right thing and to always be “on” and to be professional and to always be smiling—eventually you just wanna be a regular human being. So it causes a lot of distress to my mental health because a lot of times I’m projecting the “correct” way [to be] and being a good role model, and I am ignoring the true, authentic feelings as a person that can only work so many hours, as a person that also maybe needs to use the restroom or has personal things going on in their life. You can’t always bring that forth, so it can work your mental health. It can make you susceptible to working for three weeks for hours and hours and hours at a time where you’ve been evaluated by cameras, by microphones, by people, by companies. 

There eventually comes a point where you get privacy and realize you’re not OK. Then you realize, now behind these closed doors, I have to authentically express that maybe I’m not doing too well. Maybe I need to eat. Maybe I need to sit and talk with somebody ’cause what I just went through was really difficult and I was being analyzed constantly. … That’s the only little moment in time you have before you have to go back out and smile for the cameras again. It is a very big challenge to navigate this side of celebrity while somehow inside being like, Well, I’m still a human being and a person that is fighting to live in Los Angeles that is trying to create a name for themselves as a queer artist that has maybe been through trauma where I have been assaulted on the streets. So when I have people rushing and coming up to me, I do also have a fear of not feeling safe, especially if I’m alone. These are things that I’m navigating with my mental health as a person who is still navigating my gender identity and who is a sensitive person.

So to be strong in my mental health is something that I now take care of fiercely because mental health is wealth. … It will get you to be strong, will get you to be experienced, will get you to be a professional. Nothing can pay for that stability. …You have to have that mental health and you have to set boundaries and put a limit on what is possible, sustainable, and realistic. If you don’t voice those things, then you’re just going to get swallowed up by the system. It’s gonna use you like a robot. 

I really hope people are engaged in knowing what their trigger points are, how to take care of their body, when to feed themselves, how to sleep, and how to engage in and maintain relationships. 

WM: Do you have anyone you feel comfortable talking about your mental health with?  

Valentina: I’ve started therapy. I’m a very spiritual person as well. I am a very strong person, and I like to make sure that what I’m doing to engage my mental health is an everyday thing. … I also make sure that I have a lot of amazing friends that I talk things through with. And a lot of what I’m doing is a lot of soul searching. I do a lot of traveling and connecting. Right now, I have a trip planned to go to Chihuahua, where my dad was born. My dad passed away four years ago, and I have this trip planned to do this soul searching of where I come from and root myself in the ground from the land where my dad was born. I really feel that’s gonna help heal some things and connect me with my father in a way. … And I’m very lucky to be loved and blessed to have a great community of friends that understand me and tell me the truth. 

WM: As a member of the LGBTQ+ community and a Trevor Project ambassador, what mental health advice would you share with young people in the community? 

Valentina: Find how to release the tension and reach full authenticity or [do] the best that you can getting closer to the parts of yourself that are there  that you’re not allowing to come through. ‘Cause there’s a lot of things that we’re combating with society, our families, our gender identity, our sexuality, puberty, and just life experiences. Dive deep, and whatever is for you will be for you. And [remember] the power of manifestation. You have to imagine and see [your dreams], and it’ll happen. Energy is real.

WM: What else would you like to add about mental health?

Valentina: We need to be speaking about how mental health is an important tool and engaging in healthy mental health practices in the workplace, amongst your family, amongst your friends. And know that it’s OK to ask for help. Our government should be helping and funding good mental health for every citizen. It’s something we should be pushing for … because we are running around this country without any help, without an ability to really feel secure or know how to survive mental health issues. We should really start talking about mental health amongst ourselves and encouraging each other. 

You know, my dad passed away and my mother is widowed. And she’s from a different generation—going to therapy was never something she would’ve ever felt proud of. It would’ve been something she maybe had a little bit of shame around. But we’ve been talking through things and my mom went and got help and went through a process of healing, and that is OK. We need to undo that stigma.

Finally, I really compliment the queer youth and Gen Z who really embrace therapy and engage in good mental health practices and [fight for] the progress of language and pronouns. I really applaud them for that mentality. I would hope that people from my generation and generations further back bring them on board and realize that it’s to our benefit and the benefit of society to evolve. 

After so many years of having a hard life and never talking to anybody about it … I hope people can learn to heal and know they can be the source. 

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.

The post Valentina Wants You to Know That You Are More Than Your Traumas appeared first on Wondermind.

Q&A Link Copied 08.14.23

How Therapy Helped Devery Jacobs Accept Her Queer Identity

“We were considered sacred back in the day, and we’re just as sacred now.” ByShannon Barbour

We proudly stand with the WGA and SAG-AFTRA. As such, this interview does not focus on the promotion of any particular project.

Before Devery Jacobs built up an impressive resume in the entertainment industry, she studied to be a counselor, working at the Native Women’s Shelter of Montreal with the hopes of going into social work. “In my mind, it was like, if I can’t pursue my first love of film and TV, then I would love to be able to help Indigenous people,” she tells Wondermind. 

Soon, she found her footing with her creative pursuits, but her passion for her community, for helping others, and for mental health never went away. “Even though I am now an actor and I’m not a counselor or a social worker, those similar values remain with me, and I carry them through all of the projects that I do,” she says. “I carry with me the activism that I am really passionate about—the Indigenous rights activism—which bleeds into environmentalism and protecting where we’re from and how they’re all interwoven.” 

Over the years, Jacobs’ commitment to mental health has pushed her to balance her individuality with her love of her community, and it opened the door for her to publicly embrace her identity as a queer Indigenous person and be an advocate for Indigenous youth who are part of the LGBTQ+ community. 

Here, Jacobs talks trusting her gut, what six years in therapy has taught her, and more.

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WM: How’s your mental health lately? 

Devery Jacobs: My mental health is fine. I think I’m hanging in there. I am doing all I can to take care of myself and make sure I’m also taking care of those around me. But yeah, it’s fine. I wouldn’t say over the moon, but it’s not too bad. I’m hanging in there. 

WM: When you reflect on your mental health journey, what stands out? 

DJ: Going to therapy and what that’s really provided for me. I grew up in my community in Kahnawà:ke, which is a Mohawk reserve just outside of Montreal. And for me, being in community was never an issue. It was something that I was so proud to be a part of, but what I found was sometimes I lost my own voice in the midst of it. I had a hard time distinguishing my own voice from everyone else’s around me and my people-pleasing tendencies. Since getting to do therapy, which I’ve actively been in [for] six years now, I have really been able to find my own voice and trust that intuition. That’s been the thing that’s really guided me through what I need and made sure that I’m living by my newfound mantra of like, If I’m being honest with myself:____.

WM: What sorts of things do you feel make you an individual? 

DJ: Even now, having conversations of me being an individual outside of my community is a hard concept to grasp because I feel like I’m Kanien’kehá:ka first and foremost. I’m a community member first and foremost. I won’t speak for anyone else, but it’s important for myself to be able to navigate and be in touch with what I want and who I am. And I do think that has, by virtue, made me more of an individual. Finding that balance of like keeping my community in mind has always been paramount for me. 

I would say though, therapy and getting to be in touch with myself ended up resulting in me coming out as queer and being able to acknowledge who I am. Growing up on my reserve— though things are changing and are becoming more positive now—I don’t know that it was necessarily the most queer-friendly of spaces. So I think through therapy and getting in touch with myself and focusing on my mental health, it meant acknowledging all parts of myself. I think that’s a way that wasn’t necessarily always encouraged by my upbringing.

WM: How did you find your therapist? 

DJ: I had gotten some recommendations from friends to begin with, and it ended up being a fluke [that I found] my original therapist. Not everybody is so lucky in finding therapists because it’s obviously like dating and finding somebody who is compatible with you and what your needs are. But the first therapist I had I was put in touch with through friends, and it was because other people were not available. And I was like, I don’t really wanna see a dude therapist. But he ended up being really incredible and turned out to be a trans man. And really when I was having conversations about queerness, he was able to help me navigate through those spaces. I’ve since moved on to another therapist, but now I have a list of local queer and trans therapists. It’s kind of like a guide that I’m always passing out to friends in case they’re in need and especially in queer spaces and the queer community that I’m in in Toronto now. 

WM: What do your therapy sessions tend to look like? 

DJ: Before I had even gone to therapy, something that was really helpful for me was journaling because I had a really hard time expressing my feelings verbally. But the one place I was able to really be in touch with myself was through writing. 

But as I learned how to express verbally how I was feeling, talk therapy was definitely something that I was interested in. But also, I’m really into sensory motor therapy and where [trauma] sits in your body. Being somebody who has experienced trauma, like many people, there are a lot of theories about how trauma is stored in the body. To be able to navigate that and physically feel where you’re coming from or where you’ve been is something that’s been really helpful for me, especially in that combination of things. 

WM: In what ways has therapy surprised you? 

DJ: I don’t know when I’m not surprised. I’ll be talking about things or be physically doing things and then all of a sudden this [realization] will appear and I’m like, Where did you come from? I didn’t know I felt like this. But the thing that’s most surprised me through healing and connecting with community and through all of my paths has been how far from the status quo I’ve ended up in my life. 

I feel like I had a whole life laid out ahead of me of what I was supposed to do as a Mohawk woman living on my res. My life looks so different from that now in terms of who I love, in terms of where I live, in terms of what I do, in terms of being an artist. At points, I’ve had to stop and be like, Am I on my right path? ‘Cause this looks so different than what I was supposed to do. But then realizing that I was following my intuition and checking in with myself every step of the way has just meant that I am on the right path—it just looks much different than what is laid out for people in my community. 

And outside of talk therapy and Western therapy, there are also different things that I take part in that feel really meaningful to me because it’s not only self-care for myself, it’s also about community care that I think is so integral to humans. Especially in Western society, it feels like there’s almost too much emphasis on the individual. That feels like it’s only one part of the equation. I think there’s so much more conversation to be had about being Onkwehón:we, being human, being in connection to your community. So, for me, doing that involves practices of burning tobacco and saying the Ohén:ton Karihwatéhkwen, which is giving thanks. Or it’s connecting with other queer Indigenous folks or attending a ceremony or doing something fun and social, like going to powwows or socials. I feel like that’s also so key in terms of my feeling connected and rooted to myself and to my community. 

It feels like it’s always black or white where you’re either an individual or you’re a community member. And there’s so many shades of gray in between that end up making for such a more fulfilling experience.

WM: Are there any mental health misconceptions or stigmas that you hope to help tear down?

DJ: I wanna tear down the idea that focusing on mental health is selfish. I think that’s one of the biggest roadblocks I’ve experienced. Also speaking with people—particularly women of older generations—they feel that being selfless means they need to give their all and abandon themselves and only focus on those around them in order to be a good woman or a good mother or what have you. 

I just wanna stress how it’s untrue. It’s not true that it’s selfish to focus on oneself. Actually, it’s integral to making sure that we can have long lasting lives and are able to do a better job at sitting with people and and honoring ourselves. … It is so important and can be the greatest gift that one can give themself. 

WM: If you could give yourself a pep talk right now, what would you say?

DJ: I would say maybe it’s not a pep talk. Maybe it’s like a deescalation talk. But I would just say, “Take the urgency out of the situation. You can get to it. Eat some good food. Take your time. Walk through life—don’t sprint. Don’t forget to stop and smell the roses.” It’s kind of like an anti-pep talk. 

WM: What else would you like to share about the importance of mental health?

DJ: I am a pretty private person, so sometimes speaking about myself and my own mental health journey and my queerness can sometimes feel intimidating, but the reason I do it is because I think I needed to see that growing up. And honestly, I could still use seeing that now. 

But one of the main reasons why I decided to go public when I came out was because of a study that I read from The Trevor Project, which talked about how Indigenous youth who are from the queer community actually die by suicide at the highest rates of any other queer youth of color. That was just honestly heartbreaking to me and really resonated with me. And you can see it in projects that I’m a part of. You see it in all of Indigenous communities. Suicide on our reserves and reservations—it’s just rampant. And I think that by focusing on self-care, community care, therapy, and honoring yourself can be some of the most important work we can do. 

Queer and trans and two-spirit youth deserve to be here and deserve to have beautiful lives. … Know that your queerness is traditional. You being queer is just as much a part of your history and being Onkwehón:we, as being Indigenous. We were considered sacred back in the day, and we’re just as sacred now.

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity. 

If you or someone you know is in crisis, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 988 or The Trevor Project by calling 1-866-488-7386 or texting “START” to 678-678.

The post How Therapy Helped Devery Jacobs Accept Her Queer Identity appeared first on Wondermind.