One thing I miss about the OG blogging
days, especially as a queer person, was how we used to write without
performance. No branding. No monetizing. No content creation. Just raw,
unfiltered life. We'd write 500 words about locking eyes with someone across
the room and wondering if they were family. Or the magic of hearing a song that
made us feel seen for the first time. And somehow, people found it. They read
it, felt it, said, “me too,” and we all kept going.
There was
something sacred in that. We weren’t trying to go viral. We weren’t trying to
survive the algorithm. We were just trying to be seen. To feel less alone. And
it worked.
I miss that
time. Before queerness became aesthetic. Before every post had to be a
political statement or a perfectly lit photo. When blogging was therapy. When
being gay online didn’t mean you had to represent every letter of the alphabet
every time you spoke.
Now it feels
like we’re always performing. For approval. For reach. For safety. But I want
to go back to that freedom. To those moments where I could lay my feelings down
somewhere in the ether and walk away, knowing I’d carved out a tiny space where
I existed fully, freely, and without apology.
Maybe this
Pride Month, we reclaim that.
We write again. Not to explain. Not to defend. Not to go viral.
Just to be.
🏳️🌈💭
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