Hugging My Little Gay Self

Opening my eyes as a child, I always wished for a day of silence, a day of peace, a day where I would not be ridiculed for the way I walked, talked, and swayed to the sound of the world’s music. A day where I could spend its entirety with my grandma and be showered with hugs, kisses, and words that made little ole me feel like I was the most special boy this world had to offer. Opening my eyes as a child, I always wished I wouldn’t have to attend recess because I was tired of sitting alone and watching other kids running around. Instead, I wanted to flutter away from the playground like a butterfly, ready to metamorphosize into the next life. This next life—the life of my dreams—would allow me to watch music videos of Beyonce dancing her heart out and mimicking every move. In this next life, I could spend endless hours playing with my sister's dolls and makeup. Instead, however, I felt sadness each holiday when I received bootleg Optimus Primes that could barely move. The stiff joints of the toy reminded me of the stiffness my body had in relation to being forced to abide by masculinity. Every time I opened my eyes as a child, I knew that my life was carved out for me; my body certainly did not fit that carving. 

I had to create a carving of my own, so I tried reaching out to anyone and anything to make my body mold into that carving. I constantly surrounded myself with people to prevent feeling lonely, but it always found a way to creep back up inside me. I used humor to forget that I was still the child that sat alone at recess—the child that was afraid to understand what was truly inside. That fear allowed every little hurtful word to attach itself to my body, creating a sense of self-loathing. Self-loathing became a part of who I was once, I questioned how I was not “man” enough in the Black world, how my queerness was an issue because Black “men” can’t be gay. I questioned whether I deserved an ounce of peace because I was constantly told my existence was a contradiction. Something unnatural. Undeserving. Not wanting to fall deeply into a hole where it was impossible for me to climb up, I remembered the butterfly I wanted to be and knew it was time to break free. Breaking free was not only accepting my sexuality, but also granting my inner child the life he wanted. It meant allowing Kam to not be afraid of twirling in skirts, despite people’s laughter and ridicule. It meant allowing Kam to dance to the sounds of life without stopping even though the beats he hits does not align with the lives of others. It meant allowing Kam to understand that it's okay to be feminine. Femininity saved my life and has allowed baby Kam to feel free in a world where his freedom was always controlled. 

Coming to Colgate, I was ready to begin a life where I did not have to answer to anyone about my being and where I allowed myself to explore life without constraints on what my body was allowed to do. In the back of my mind, even while I was on campus, there would constantly be something that loomed behind me, inching to come out once I tried on a crop top, or danced a little too freely in spaces where I would not be celebrated. That thing, which loomed behind me and within me, was fear—fear that I was not beautiful, that I should not be allowed in dresses and skirts, that I would never find people who appreciated every vessel of my being, that I would never find the strength to understand that I was beautiful and that I deserved peace and never ending dreams of happiness. 

Coming to Colgate, I forced myself to not hide behind my fears. Instead, I began viewing them as excuses to not embrace my full potential. The potential I had to be as beautiful as all the women in my life. The potential I had to be an inspiration to people who saw themselves in me. The potential being that in my eyes, I am one of the most powerful people I have ever known because I chose to not let fear hinder the life I deserve to live. Colgate granted me a place where I could explore my queerness and tend to my inner child. Embracing my queerness at Colgate has been freeing for the reality of what baby Kam wanted as a child. I remember walking into a frat house with a dress for the first time, in fear of how people would react, but only receiving compliments about how cool I dressed and how radiant my beauty was. Hearing those words from people made me dance the rest of the night like there was no tomorrow. Hearing from people’s parents that I was beautiful even if I did not fit the mold of what they thought a “man” should be. Colgate allowed my ears to open to receive the love I deserved. Colgate gave me people who view me as a beautiful creature that was put on this earth for greatness. It gave me people who nourished me and allowed our roots to connect to one another and grow because of the love and happiness that flew through our bodies. It gave me friends who believe I am a star that shines so bright. It gave me friends who thanked me for my queerness. Friends who appreciated that I was not afraid anymore of the ridicule that once controlled my body. Thinking back to that butterfly I was at recess, every step I took at Colgate wearing the gayest outfit (fashionable nonetheless), I felt as if I was fluttering through life as one of the most mystical creatures this planet has ever been blessed with. Yes, I am human. I still have that voice in the back of my mind telling me I am not enough. But now I don’t allow that voice to dwindle my light—my queerness. I am blessed to shine so bright, and I know I will continue to shine on the darkest of nights.