Ana Nemec
From a distance I am your average 30-something Midwestern white woman. I was born and raised in small town South Dakota, a straight-A student, active in extra-curriculars at school, have bachelor’s and master’s degrees to my name, have a full-time job with a good salary and benefits, try to stay healthy, own a house and a dog, have hobbies, and enjoy spending my time with family and friends.
My family is your average family – two parents with educations and successful careers who have been married for 32 years and 3 sisters who have average families of their own. I have been given every opportunity to succeed and have taken advantage of those opportunities to get where I am today. I am fully aware of my privilege and am grateful for the circumstances to which I was born. Other than the fact that I dislike country music and instead listen to an inordinate amount of rap, from a distance I am your average 30-something Midwestern white woman.
But on the inside, I carry a feeling of “otherness.” Not only am I your average 30-something Midwestern white woman, but I’m also a gay 30-something Midwestern white woman. I am gay — no big deal in this day and age, right? For me, it hasn’t felt like “no big deal.”
I grew up always knowing that I felt different on some level, but not entirely understanding what that feeling was. Growing up in a red state, in a small town, with little diversity, I never got the chance to really explore or express that feeling. Reflecting back now, I realize the depression and anger and rage I had felt since I was a teenager was in part due to suppressing my “otherness”.
It took 31 years, but I finally came out recently. Although it has given me a greater sense of freedom to be myself, I still can’t help feeling that people now see me in a different light. Every single person I have come out to in my life has been wonderfully accepting. I have yet to have a bad experience with any kind of homophobia. However, I can’t help wondering what people are really thinking. How are they judging me? I still feel like the “other” and I don’t know if it will ever go away, but what I do know is that my sexual orientation does not define me. Yes, I am gay, but I am also your average 30-something Midwestern white woman and so much more.