Posted by on July 6, 2016

Screenshot 2016-06-29 16.26.54This was my love and I one year ago in the Topa Topa mountains, on our wedding day.

I can’t tell you what it took to get here.
To get here from meeting eleven years ago.

I fell into queer lust and love for the first time, at 21.

It terrified me. But the feelings I had for this person were a force like nothing I’d experienced before.

The kind of flurry that sets your life on fire. Flips it upside down. Has you question everything you’ve ever known about yourself.

The bloom of my queerness was watered by my love for Sammy.

But still, even as desire felt more or less safe for me, the idea that I would continue to grow in love and in my own queer identity was terrifying for me.

I had to grapple with so much internalized homophobia for years. Early in our love, there’d be nights I couldn’t sleep, my mind wondering in agony how this could be my life. Wondering how I could be sleeping next to a lover that wasn’t a straight cis man. How could I let this happen? I would think to myself.

As time has gone on, those nights don’t happen anymore. I feel safe and secure in our love. But internalized homophobia and transphobia are still there. A faint hint of fear will flicker when I’m triggered by something outside of myself {an all straight baby shower, for example}, and I’ll be flooded by a wave of sadness about who I am, or what I’m missing.

I don’t want to lie about this, because it’s normal.

In spite of our full-bellied laughter, our brilliant joy, our happiness, our incredible love-making, our privileges, our friendships, our magic, our success, we still live in a world that largely doesn’t see us for our complexity. We live in a world where we must gauge our safety in every context. A world where others often see us as gay or queer before we are anything else. Where the richness of our lives and experiences are distilled down, essentialized and oversimplified, and sometimes it really hurts.

Oppression is complex {and sometimes its impact is sneaky}, and there are more targeted communities than I can possibly acknowledge here {Black folks, trans women of color, folks w disabilities, fat folks, and how all these lived experiences overlap}.

I want to acknowledge the beauty and resilience of all of us who live at the margins and intersections of oppression. We are so fucking magic.

This shit is complex.

And what’s importance is that we love each other through it, and because of it, and in spite of it all. That we make space in our lives to be honest and vulnerable with one another; to look each other in the eyes; to slow down and have ceremonies and make space for our healing. Healing happens all kinds of ways and I will always be amazed by our inventiveness.

How does healing happen for you? How do you make space for both individual and collective healing in your life?

I make space for healing in so many ways. Here are just a few:
*FaceTime convos with my loves {even 15 mins goes a LONG way}
*Connecting with the natural cycles of the Earth {moon cycles, solstice/equinox rituals}
*I try to sleep outside once a month so that my body can reconnect to the Earth/Water/Wind/Sun
*Queer Camping!
*Baths, Korean Spa, Candles, Rest, Water
*Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
*Occasional nutritional cleanses {when I simplify and try to eat like my Ancestors}
*Community Circles {writing groups, phone calls, online connection}
*Being with family {both chosen and bio}
*Investing in healers {body workers, coaches, therapists, intuitive guides, acupuncturists, etc — I have one of each!}
*Writing, Drawing, Dance
*Prayer, Ritual
*Human connection

What do you practice when you’re feeling the sting of internalized or systemic oppression?

Let me know in the comments.

I love you all so much.

Sofia <3


  1. Tae Lynne
    July 6, 2016

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    Sofia, this is such a beautifully honest post. Thank you for sharing a bit of your soul and your story with us. I detest oppression, judgment and lack of acceptance. I wish to stop the bullying, shaming, violence & lack of acceptance for anyone “different” than us. Spreading the message of kindness became my new purpose when several chronic illnesses robbed me of my career and who I “used to be.” It took a long time for me to accept and like the new me, but I believe it was a blessing in disguise. Congratulations to you & Sammy on your 1 year anniversary.

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