[poem] Am I queer enough?

I first came across the word lesbian — as an identity, for me — at QUILT 2018.
I was there accompanying my then friend.
I came in as an ally and I left questioning.

Eventually, I came to identify as a lesbian.
After many interactions and dates
One day I asked myself:
Am I lesbian enough?

Over the next few years, through different encounters,
the labels I used for myself shifted.

I identified as an asexual.
Then I thought I identified as Bisexual.
But then, “I like the wine more than the bottle” —
So… I identified as a pansexual?

Somewhere, I was none of these identities,
yet I resonated with all of them.
These were some confusing years!

Each time though,
I had the same question:
Am I ace enough?
Bi enough?
Pan enough?

I didn’t know what I was.
Because every label came with terms and conditions:
Of what the identity is
How I should love,
Whom I need to prioritize,
What kind of relationships I was supposed to have.

I had to perform someone whom I was not.
Constantly.
No wonder I always came up short.

These questions made me re-look at the relationships I have had.
Sure, some were straightforward:
Platonic, romantic, or sexual.
But most were layered and complex
Not necessarily complicated.

For instance
I felt care and love toward someone —
Yes, it was platonic.
But it also had something more that was
Not romantic.
Not sexual.
Intimacy was a part of it.
It wasn’t lust —
Yet it was carnal.

Other time, it was deeply platonic —
I felt everything that great romantic song ever told me to feel
And the bond?
Was not romantic.

Clearly, my feelings did not fit neatly into any label.
I confused others,
Because I was confused myself.
And I felt like I was never… enough.

But then I started wondering:

What is sex, romance, or relationships anyway?
What if I treated labels not as boxes, but as guiding lights?
What if I could show up as I am — unapologetically?

What if “I” got to define what desire, love, sex, and connection mean for me?

What if I claimed my space — as I am?

What if I present my authentic self —
The messy,
I don’t know what the fuck I am doing,
But I’m ready to figure it out — with myself… and with you?

What if I embraced the word queer —
Not as something that is perfect or performative
But as something gloriously incomplete?

What if I took all the shaming, and rejection —
And said:
Yes. This is who I am.
And your response?
Does. Not. Define. Me.

And that’s what I’m trying to be:

Incomplete,
Imperfect,
irregular,
Messy-as-fuck,
Healing my broken heart,
and building my bruised spirit.

Now, when I ask:

Am I queer enough?

I say:
No.

And I’m grateful —
Every. Goddamn. Second —
That I’m not.Because it allows me to be…
me.