Stepping Out of the Shadows
When I made the decision to come out nearly a year ago, I had no idea of the self-discovery of identity that would ensue. From a conservative birth family to a number of friends between whom I maintained ten-foot walls, I had no one to prepare me for the journey I was embarking on. Society sears two portraits of coming out into the minds of queer kids everywhere: fear and self doubt at the prospect of baring one’s soul to the world, and anticipation for the Hollywood narrative of a flash mob and true love’s kiss and perfect acceptance. And plot twist: there’s no flash mob. For me and so many queer kids, there was no middle ground between terror and excitement, acceptance and hate, a future to look toward or a future to dread. There is no single rendering of coming out, though. Every person comes with different types of trauma, different experiences, different identities, different struggles. Individuals with compounding identities face an infinitely more difficult time than some of us when they come out, and no one’s coming out story is going to be exactly the same as another’s.
As with my story, many people remain closeted out of pure necessity — whether rooted in financial, familial, cultural, religious, or safety concerns. Even after the initial act of breaking free from some of the restraints that hold us back, lingering insecurities, reinforced self-doubt, and internalized homophobia can result in us staying in the closet for much longer — and in my case, can cause us to suppress any thoughts about our sexuality or identity for years to avoid the potential associated trauma. Being locked inside with my thoughts for more than a year has provided me ample amount of time to reflect and as strange as it sounds, I wouldn’t trade my experiences — or my trauma — for anything. You see, my past and my trauma set me on a path of self-discovery that have shaped me into a more compassionate, more resilient, more mindful person. Not every LGBTQ+ person feels this way and trauma shouldn’t be a benchmark in the upbringing of queer people, but I’ve been privileged enough to learn the tools to reclaim my life as my own and overcome the harm that now lives in my past. I’m reminded of a quote by Audre Lorde: “We are powerful because we have survived.” Our experiences in this world often aren’t fair and our trials aren’t easy, but we will always emerge stronger on the other side.
This week, I spoke with activist and queer influencer (and most importantly, my friend!) Emily Motti, about coming out, their unexpected rise to TikTok popularity, and the power of exploring one’s identity.
What did discovering your identity and coming out look like for you?
I grew up in a family and community that was welcoming of being queer. My parents never shielded my siblings and myself from alternative lifestyles, sexualities or identities. Because of that, I was exposed to people who weren’t just cis-het. My sister came out as lesbian when I was a freshman in high school, she was a sophomore. The coming out was well received and it was never an issue in my home. She went to public school and I’m sure people had their opinions. However, the overwhelming response was positive. I didn’t consider the option that I was queer until about junior year of high school. There were drunk make-outs with girl friends or friends of friends. I always thought that was a normal part of high school, which it still is, but this was more. I had a soft coming out as bisexual before I got to college. I told a few friends once I had an actual potential relationship with a girl. That never came to fruition, but I knew the feelings were there. That’s when I knew. This was received well by most but others just thought it was a phase. During my three year relationship with a man in college, I definitely considered the fact that I was gay more. I loved him — but the toxicity of the relationship didn’t help my instinct to stray from him. I considered girls more and more. I came out as queer when I was freshly 22 by telling my family and then making an IG post. Once people from middle school I hadn’t spoken to in years started requesting me, I knew I was being spoken about, and that made me anxious so I deleted it. I came out as lesbian in fall 2020 after dating a woman for over a year. I realized men would not be in my future. I came out as nonbinary in December 2020. This was received very well but I still field the occasional question or two.
Did you have any queer role models growing up? If not, do wish you did?
I mean, Ellen was sort of a role model. My dad and I always watched Ellen together. Her lesbian identity never really even came up, though, because it was so normalized. I had a ton of crushes on actresses and famous women — but I wouldn’t consider them role models. People like Jodie Foster were pretty influential, and the U.S. Women’s Soccer Team. When I got a bit older I looked up to Kate McKinnon on SNL and I still do.
Why is it important to you to embrace your queer identity and provide space for others to do the same?
It was when I began being truly happy. Everyone always says that once you start living authentically, you’ll be happy. It sounds like an easy thing to say to someone when they’re having a hard time, which may be true, but it’s also a real thing. Letting go of societal standards of sexuality and gender is such a great feeling that you can feel physically, mentally and emotionally. It also provides room for younger people to do this sooner. The more it’s normalized, the less suffering will happen. I don’t think suffering can ever be gone altogether, and it probably shouldn’t be anyway, but this is a way to reduce it. When I began embracing my queer identity, my life was opened up to so much more culture, belonging, community, and people. The world expanded. And I expanded with it.
You’ve managed to become pretty popular on TikTok — particularly the queer side of the app. Did you expect to gain such a following? How does it feel to be a rising role model for so many young queer people?
I never expected to get a large following on TikTok or any social media. I used to make fun of the app and I still do — just in a different way. Before I knew that TikTok had multiple sides (e.g. gay tiktok, straight tiktok, alt tiktok, etc.), I thought it was just straight people dancing. This was of no interest to me. My following is completely accidental. A few videos blew up and people started following. Then, I started putting some effort into retaining and growing my audience. Being a role model is insane to me. Usually I would reject this title, but I’ve honestly been told this so many times from so many people, that I’ve come to accept it and embrace it. People do look up to me, and even look to me horizontally, meaning they’re my age or older but still learn from me. It’s really cool. I cry often because of it. I only ever want to get things right and I’m constantly learning. There’s pressure that comes with it but it’s not overwhelming yet.
I know you’ve shared some messages you’ve received about helping people to understand and embrace their identity. How did it make you feel to be a supportive voice and a kind of advisor to these people?
I definitely feel the responsibility. There’s pressure there. So far, I haven’t gotten anything “wrong” where I’ve had to backtrack…but I’m sure that can and will happen. I think that’s a part of having a platform. It makes me feel so fortunate that 1) I make people feel confident or seen or heard or valid and 2) they take the time to let me know about it. I try to read and respond to every message I get. Sometimes that’s exhausting, especially when people “trauma dump.” It’s not inherently bad, but some people reach out with some really tough subjects with absolutely zero trigger warnings or asking if now is a good time to talk about something heavy. I think there’s an assumption that people with a platform are just always available to people. And I try to be. But to open my DMs and see people using the word “faggot” and talk about suicide or other tough subjects, it’s kinda rough.
With social media platforms continuing to facilitate political, social, and institutional conversations and reform, where do you see equity, inclusion, and justice playing into it all? Do you think LGBTQ+ people are getting the same space and platform as cis-het folks are? If not, how do you think we change that?
LGBTQ people are absolutely not getting the same space and platform as cisgender and straight folks. It’s insane how suppressed queer voices are, especially if it’s queer BIPOC creators. I’ve made several videos about it, calling TikTok out. It’s wild that words like “queer,” “lesbian,” and “gay” are censored the way they are. It makes me feel like my identity is a bad word. Rather than deplatforming people who use these words in negative ways, the app just puts a blanket censor on all of them. My educational videos with these buzzwords are constantly being put under review or taken down by TikTok. It’s entirely frustrating. This is a systemic issue. We can try and try on the individual and community level, but we won’t see change until the apps themselves start doing something about it.
Owning your queer identity, being involved in politics, and engaging heavily with social media can be exhausting. How do you destress and rest your mind? How do you find the balance?
Sometimes I’ll take one or more days away from social media. I try to talk on all breaking news or hot topics, but sometimes I’ll take a step back (also to reduce the number of white voices speaking on it), and that lets me breathe. I do a lot of self work like reading or doing yoga. I curate my news feeds to have the important stuff on there, yes, but not overwhelmingly negative. I will never block out important news. But WHO and HOW that news is delivered is up to me. I’m not always the best with balance and I should do better. I have to find a therapist. But I think I’m doing an ok job for now. I also set a lot of boundaries with my followers which usually goes very well.
Do you have anything to say to a young LGBTQ person that might end up reading this? Is there anything you wish you could’ve known when you were younger or that you wish a queer person could’ve prepared you for?
I always want to say “Be yourself, screw everything, live your true life” but that is ignorant. It doesn’t take into consideration the educational, financial, familial, cultural and other barriers set in place. Not everyone has a support system. Not everyone can just leave their family if they don’t accept them. Not everyone is safe when out. My best advice would be to live for yourself and not for others. Take the time to learn about who you are. I went too long in life living for others and not having a clue who I was past the surface. Put in that work. Especially if you have to wait until you’re 18 for independence, or if you have to save up money before you can leave, or whatever it may be. Take that time “in the closet” to truly discover yourself so you can flourish when it’s time. Be open to possibilities. Read works from BIPOC queer folks.
I think Motti’s mention of individuals with a platform being perceived as consistently available is important to touch on. Influencers, authors, celebrities, and anyone else with a platform are only human — just like you and me. Unless expressly asked not to, reaching out is more than okay — so long as we approach people gently and with trigger warnings if necessary. Especially when discussing potentially traumatic or triggering topics, it’s important to realize that by not asking and easing into a conversation like that, you could be causing trauma for another person. Just as influencers need to take the time for self-care, those who reach out do as well. Being mindful of one’s words and recognizing that people with platforms can’t solve all of your problems are important reminders as we dive deeper and deeper into social media.
Coming out isn’t simple by any stretch of the imagination, and every single person’s discovery of identity is unique. It doesn’t matter how long it takes you to come out or how many times you redefine your identity. What matters is that no matter how difficult the journey might be, you hold on for dear life and make it through to the other side. As Motti says, “When I began embracing my queer identity, my life was opened up to so much more culture, belonging, community, and people. The world expanded. And I expanded with it.” I cannot emphasize how truly profound the experience of exploring your identity and learning to live for yourself is. It comes with a number of trials, sure, but when you remove the weight of the world from your shoulders and begin living, you finally realize what it means to be the most authentic version of yourself there is. When you begin to expel toxic people, ideas, and judgements from your life, you slowly but surely grow into the person that you’re meant to be. Your coming out and the exploration of your identity will show you how powerful you truly are. As Harvey Milk said, “Burst down those closet doors once and for all, and stand up and start to fight.” No matter if it’s today, tomorrow, or years from now, the world will be patiently waiting on the other side for you to step out of the shadows and start the journey that will set your soul ablaze.
Don’t forget to follow Emily Motti on TikTok: @emilypmotti
