I had already realised I was attracted to other girls when I found the literature in an old pile of documents belonging to my parents: the title was something like, ‘the sin of homosexuality’. An entire page declaring people like me evil, immoral, predatory. I knew it was an old pamphlet, that my parents’ views had changed, but the burning feeling of shame and fear it had invoked stayed with me long after I had torn the pamphlet into tiny fragments.

I had originally thought I may be bisexual, however the discovery of the TV show ‘the L Word’ (actual visibility!) as well as briefly “dating” a boy I never even held hands with had helped me figure it out – he was a nice boy and I enjoyed his friendship, but I just couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful my best friend, a girl, was on our “dates”, which had been a clue.

In my late teenage years, I found peace with myself as a “gay Christian”. If I was created this way, then clearly my homosexuality was intentional. My Christian youth group did not share this view, advocating celibacy for those “afflicted” by homosexuality. In one particularly damaging session, the youth group leaders (themselves only in their early 20s) described homosexuality (and implicitly, bisexuality) as paedophilia. Many people in the room shifted uncomfortably but remained quiet; I was the only person who openly argued against this; four people versus one, while everyone else watched on. I cried alone in my car afterwards.

The first lesbian I met came to the same youth group, not long after - a follow-up session discussing the ‘sanctity of marriage’. More vile declarations were made. With both of us speaking out, other teenagers, themselves heterosexuals, felt brave enough to openly voice opposition this time. I couldn’t help myself from stealing glances at her – a real life lesbian! – her confidence, her plaid shirt. I had to be her friend. I met more lesbian, gay, and bisexual Christians after this, when I moved to a larger city; most of them much older, but kind, accepting, and living a life of Christ while also being same-sex attracted. Their existence started to heal some of my internal wounds.

Following a fervent journey of reading Christian literature and critical texts, I became an atheist. You could call this a reluctant process. It was very difficult to give up an identity I had held for 20 years, and I felt the loss of it. I continued to occasionally attend Christian events with friends after this – church, youth group, seminars – but it didn’t hold the same meaning for me. My best friend at this time was a Jewish atheist – how appealing, it seemed to me, to give up the religion but keep the cultural practices. My maternal grandmother was Jewish but had converted to Christianity for marriage; her parents had fled Nazi Germany to Australia. I felt a connection with Judaism, felt the sense of “what could have been” in an alternative upbringing – but you can’t convert to a religion for the practices without the belief system.

As a teenager trying to find my place in the world, I battled an onslaught of loneliness and a sense of alienation. There was undoubtedly a genetic and personality component to this – but it was made much worse by not knowing a single other person “like me” – while the message from so many directions was that homosexuals were deviants, broken. Eventually meeting other lesbians, bisexuals, and gay men was comforting – there was a likeness forged from a lifetime of othering, an experience of? understanding. This community has and continues to be essential in creating a sense of normalcy and belonging for me around own sexual orientation – a space where I am not the ‘other’. The pain of trying to find my place, understand my identity, and figure out how and where I fit was a long process. I see this still with the shame that young lesbians in high school face – that doesn’t seem like it has gotten better, just different.

I spent my teens and early 20s often feeling like I was drowning in anxiety and loneliness. Thankfully, therapeutic strategies, a deeper understanding of mental health, and the natural healing of time means that is no longer the case. The more distant we become from our teenage years, the easier it is to soften the edges, fade the negatives, dismiss the heightened emotions of those formative years – and thank goodness.

However, it’s important to remember those experiences and give space to today’s youth – grappling for identity, trying to find something that fits, or otherwise make themselves fit. For those experiencing the emptiness of not knowing, of not seeing themselves or finding others to connect with, loneliness can be a strong motivator to latch onto an identity, even if it means silencing parts of yourself. We should show young people kindness and compassion while they explore different identities and find out where they fit, while also giving them the space to change this later on if it turns out it wasn’t true to the self they are still figuring out.