Growing up in a household where every word, action, and even the company I kept was scrutinized by my mother, I gradually lost touch with my own identity. My existence seemed to orbit around fulfilling her wants and needs, leaving me little room to consider my own desires. I was too preoccupied with merely surviving to contemplate who I truly was. So, when I found myself at Rutgers, I saw it as a chance to rediscover myself. However, after years of being disconnected from my own identity, the journey was an uphill battle.

It was during my time at Rutgers that I began to explore my interests. Yet, I struggled to choose a major. Raised on my mother’s aspirations, I initially pursued nursing to appease her, only to realize it wasn’t my passion. I darted from one major to another, feeling like an oddball in each. Meanwhile, my peers seemed to have their lives meticulously planned out, while I grappled with the uncertainty of each passing day.

In addition to struggling with academic indecision, I harbored a secret: my attraction to women. In the conservative climate of the 90s, being gay was still widely frowned upon. While there were a few openly queer individuals on campus, I hesitated to reveal my own truth, fearing rejection from my close-knit circle. I sought relief in off-campus queer spaces, yearning for acceptance amidst the disapproval of my peers.

During this internal turmoil, I found solace in moments of quiet reflection. In the stillness of my room, I listened to the whispers of my inner voice, seeking guidance on how to navigate my secrets. Looking back, I realize those moments of meditation were when I connected with my higher self, finding the courage to embrace my truth. Terrified yet determined, I followed the counsel of my inner guides and confided in those closest to me.

However, the responses I received shattered me. Friends I had laughed and shared intimate stories with recoiled in disgust. Some quoted scripture, labeling me an “abomination,” while others suggested I just needed the “right man.” Their rejection felt like a sentence to solitary confinement in a prison of religious dogma. Despite the pain, I knew I couldn’t deny who I was. Though the remainder of my time at Rutgers was marked by loneliness, I pressed on, knowing I had to walk the path of authenticity, even if it meant walking alone.