Help Roxi raise money

The internet can be a beautiful place. It is not only the place that helped me realize my queerness (no, not “convinced me of my queerness”) and find community. It helped me feel safe when so much of the world does not.

You see, I had been a “practicing queer” for about 5 years. I had gone on dates with people I met through the internet because, as a feminine presenting person, everyone would assume I was straight. I didn’t have the guts to show up to queer spaces alone, and even when I did go to those spaces (with my gay male friends), no one knew I was queer.

I even had an instance at a work pride employee resource group(!!!) where the event sponsor said “You look uncomfortable, are you an ally or something?”. I was uncomfortable because she was making my friends and me uncomfortable… but that’s a story for another time.

The point is that I didn’t feel like I belonged in queer spaces, even though I knew I was queer. Other than my dates, I didn’t know other queer people. That meant my only queer “friends” were dates-that-didn’t-go-anywhere or exes. Not the healthiest queer community…

Then, COVID happened. We were stuck inside on and off for 2.5 years and, as a collective, everyone spent a lot of time on the Internet.

I was closeted, without trying to be. 

Then, someone I went on dates with long ago posted about a “queer run club”. I had started running over COVID (not well) and was longing to know more queer people in Toronto. I asked them if I could come.

When I showed up at the run club, for the first time my presence said “I’m here. I’m queer”.

I left the first meet-up with a huge smile on my face and several Instagram follows. Queer friends! I made queer friends! 

From that point forward, the run club was a staple in my calendar. Even if I was out of town, I would rearrange things so that I could be there.

It was the first place where I truly felt seen as a queer person.

The quick little chats I had with queer people who saw me as a fellow queer person made my week.

All the while, I still had so much that was internalized:

What will my coworkers think? What will cis men I have dated think? Friends from Catholic school? Family in Hungary?

I hesitated to share anything about the club out of fear.

After almost a year of frequenting the run club, I signed up for the Toronto Pride Run 2022. Since it is a fundraiser for the Pride and Rememberance Foundation, I had a fundraising page (just like this one) where I decided to be vulnerable and explain how important running had become to my queer journey, thanks to the Queer Run Club. I ended by saying how monumental it would be to run with the club that made me feel seen as a queer person for the first time while raising funds for such an important cause.

As mentioned, I was closeted even though I didn’t realize I was. The world put me in the “straight” box, and I chose when to or when not to correct them — which, by the way, is a huge privilege I do not take lightly. So when the Queer Run Club shared my fundraising blurb on Instagram and tagged me, I hesitated.

I thought:

If I share this story, am I coming out on the internet?

I have so many almost-strangers on Instagram… do I really want them to know that about me?

Then again, if I’m not ashamed of who I am, why should I let that stop me?

I have past colleagues that know me in one way… what are they going to think?

Will I be the gossip of the company? The family? Alumni?

Upon reflection and a mini self-hype up, I was able to respond to my own questions:

Yes. This is Coming Out on the internet.

With a quick press of the “Share Story” button, it was done. I had Come Out to the Internet.

I spent the rest of the day bawling my eyes out in fear, but also in relief.

It’s wild to think of now, but that little Instagram Story Share changed my life.

There was something so freeing — and simultaneously terrifying — about pressing that button.

With those tears, I was releasing so much inside me that I didn’t know was there.

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That is the story of how The Pride Run and Queer Run Club are a huge part of my coming out story and so very meaningful to me. 🩵