It’s the first day of Pride Month here in New Zealand. It’s a month when we celebrate our LGBTQ+ community; a month dedicated to the uplifting of LGBTQ+ voices, celebration of LGBTQ+ culture and the support of LGBTQ+ rights.

In the past I have stood on the side lines of the festival: cheering at the parade, perhaps attending events here and there, cheering and laughing and hugging and singing and supporting and loving.

This year, it is with joy and some fear that I take my place as a member of the community. I am a proud queer woman. A woman who loves women. Here I am.

Every queer/gay/however they wish to define themselves person who has come out later in life has their own unique coming out story. None are more or less valid.

Some have known somewhere deep down all their lives, but have only come out later, terrified and brave, claiming their liberation at last. Others have had a gradual or a sudden revelation that disrupts and upends and disorientates. Some have been ambivalent and uncertain for years, and are still finding their way. Others are not yet out, or may never choose to be. That is OK.

For me, having heard and felt only whispers and indefinable inklings that oranges may not be the only fruit, it was like being struck by lightning. The shock. The revelation. The incredulous, joyous, ‘Why did I not discover/know this about myself years ago’ desire. The knowing, deep down, that this, this, is what finally, finally fits.

I am not ready to tell my full coming out story today. Maybe one day I will.

But on this day it is enough to say:

I am queer. I am proud.

Happy Pride. x