A Personal Statement

To the people in my life who will take offense to this blog post: I'm the same me I always was. I just have words to describe me better now. Does that really change so much? Is there an exception to "Love thy neighbor as thyself" that really stands up? We are called as human beings to care for our fellow people. That call to kindness, to compassion, to openness of heart, to willingness to learn--that does not go away if a person is queer any more than it does if their skin-tone is different from yours, or their language, or their place of origin. A call to fear, or a call to hatred, or a call to allow harm to be done to our fellow humans is no call worth listening to.

I'm quiet about a lot of things, for a lot of reasons. I do what I can to help work towards that better world. I quietly try to make those small connections with the people around me that brighten their day, that help them see things in the light. My part in all things is to encourage and to remind that there are good things worth holding on to, worth fighting for. I often say my purpose in life is to spread joy and shiny-ness wherever I go. It's also to help people like me hold onto their hope that things will get better.

All of this, though, is something I can't be quiet about anymore. To not speak out hurts more now than to be silent ever did.

It's been on my heart to write a blog post like this for a long time, but I've hesitated for one reason or another. I'm a somewhat quiet, private soul by nature; I hold my opinions close to my chest, I weigh my words before I send them out into the world. I've been thinking through how to say all of this for so long, but fear of rejection and fear of how else folks might react to the truth of my heart has kept me back. Social anxiety and a desire to engage with the people around me both in person and digitally are hard to reconcile.

The events in the greater world around me have finally forced my hand. If I don't speak now, I'm not sure I ever truly will. I can't help feeling now that it is important that I do speak, if only so that my silence is not taken as acceptance of the way things are.

If you've read any of my stories, then you know something of my stance on things already. I write stories about characters of every flavor of the rainbow, about a world where we accept each other for who we are with no question because that's the world I want. I write about a world where humanity is no longer fighting amongst itself because that's the world I dream of living in.

I live in constant apprehension of the day when someone is offended by the diversity and positive relationships in my books and lashes out at me because I've challenged their narrow view of the world. I know that sooner or later, someone in a position of power whose heart is clouded by anger and fear will try to keep people from having access to my stories. In the world we live in, that's almost inevitable.

Here's the thing, though, that I am saying out loud to all of my friends, family, and fellow humans:

I'm non-binary, specifically genderfluid, genderfae, or "femininely genderless," for those of you unfamiliar with the terms. I'm aromantic and asexual, too. I still use "she" pronouns out of habit and convenience, even though "they" and "fae" are more accurate. In other words, I am a flavor of queer that's easier to keep to myself. I'm relatively open about this. It's in my author bios for anyone to read, at least, and if it comes up in conversation I don't shy away from it.

My gender identity and my (lack of) sexuality are part of who I am, just as yours are part of you. They're a non-negotiable aspect of my existence as a human being. It's rarely the first thing people find out about me, or something I discuss un-prompted, but it is still there. It still matters, even if it only really matters to me.

The world, though, is full of people who make a point of turning the lens of fear and hatred towards those who are different. My queer siblings of all kinds, in all places, face daily challenges of harassment and threats to their safety, not only from society at large but from people in positions of authority. I'm fortunate to have a supportive family who accepts me as I am, and a life of relative safety. It makes my heart ache that I am one of the lucky minority in the greater LGBTQIA+ community who can say that right now.

I'm not hiding who I am unless it comes to a life-or-death matter of safety. (I've probably already been open enough about it that I couldn't hide now if I wanted to.) It took me far too long to realize who I am and to come to terms with all it entails. I don't want to go back to feeling like I was somehow broken, or alone in the way I felt.

I know that even just by putting this blog post out into the world, I am inviting criticism. I am likely also inviting rejection from folks I've known all my life, and from some family members I hold dear. I know that there are those in my life whose kindness and compassion ends at the point where their religious and political beliefs conflict with the reality of human existence.

I also know that there are many people in my life who will support me no matter what, and who love me for my unique, whole self. I'd rather focus on them than spend the rest of my life hiding and trying to fit into a mold that was never made for me. I'd rather lend my voice to theirs, for it's by familiarity with difference that we come to accept it, and make our lives all the richer for that.

I'm going to keep spreading joy, shiny-ness, encouragement, and stories of hope and resilience, no matter what happens. All of that is the glitter that the people who would stifle us will never be able to get rid of, no matter how hard they try. We are the stuff dreams are made of.

I'm not going anywhere. No matter what, it's our joy, our hope, our passion for life, our compassion for others that makes us strong. I'm here as another voice in the darkness, saying simply, "I exist. This is me. I stand with my siblings, for we are just as human, just as valid, just as worth caring about and protecting as anyone else. We have always been here, and we always will be. We will not be silent."

I want a world where we all can *be* and live as we've been made in peace.

I won't let my light be stifled. I'll do what I can to reflect all of the other lights that still exist in this world.

Sometimes, when the world feels dark, all you can do is shine brighter.

Stay shiny, dear fellow humans. ~Katie Silverwings