Xena, Boxer Briefs, and a Children’s Storybook: Reclaiming Holy Ground

Hey y'all!

I’ve been a wallflower in this community for a hot minute, and it feels like time to finally join the conversation and share my coming-out story.

My closet exit had a “No ****, Sherlock!” vibe. That bright rainbow of writing had covered the wall for years. I just happened to keep my eyes fixed on the ground in front of me all the time with the bill of my Braves baseball cap blocking my view.

I mean, hell, I bought a red Subaru and named her Xena Warrior Princess two months to the day before I came out to myself. And a few months earlier, I took a man I was trying to date to an Indigo Girls show, with the (unfortunately straight) sisters of Larkin Poe as the opener. Later that night, when he caught a glimpse of my TomboyX boxer briefs, I declared, “I promise I’m not a lesbian!”

(In the words of my therapist: "Oh, bless.")

But it was my kids who really gave me the courage to look inward. One night, I was reading My Footprints (from our Little Feminist Book Club subscription, of course) to my four- and five-year-old daughters. It’s the story of a child finding belonging in her home with her two moms when it felt impossible to access anywhere else. Hearing that Thuy had two moms, my older daughter lit up: “Two mommies?! I want two mommies! Mommy, will you get me another mommy?!”

In her innocent and earnest declaration, my pre-K-er created a safe space for me to embrace the essential part of myself I had shoved down for thirty-eight years.

On December 12, 2023, I came out to myself. Sitting at my kitchen table, staring at my laptop with my Google Docs open, I posed the question, "Queer, am I?" Then I took a deep breath, and I wrote. A lot. The more words that filled the pages, the more I saw my authentic Self. By the end, realizing I’d known my answer all along, I felt my toes digging into the cool soil of holy ground for the first time in my life. But I was not in the presence of the god of my youth. I was in the presence of my whole Self. For the first time, I experienced Belonging and Love for All of Me.

You see, I was a queer late bloomer because I grew up in a high-control religious group where homophobic doctrine was etched into me from birth until I left the church in my early twenties. Even after deconstructing those teachings and considering myself an ally for years, though, I still had a barrier to recognizing my own queerness.

That barrier roared to life when I came out to my Southern Baptist mom a couple of months later. Her devastating response brought my internalized homophobia out of the woodwork. Right in my face. Screaming clobber passages and spewing shame at me on the daily. Nonstop.

I’m here now, finally posting in this community, because I’ve done enough trauma healing to feel at home in my body again. Safe enough to be me.

Alongside my personal journey, I’m a psychiatric nurse practitioner and trauma educator (a beautiful irony for sure).

I’m in the process of building an education program that addresses trauma from three angles:

• for individuals navigating it,

• for communities wanting to offer genuine, informed support, and

• for mental health clinicians learning how to hold safer, healing spaces.

  
  

Right now, I want to start where my heart is: with later-in-life lesbians who are daily facing the intersection of identity, religious deconstruction, and the search for belonging. And because I want this work to grow from real lived experience, not just theory, I’d love to learn from you.

Specifically:

• What in your religious or spiritual communities felt supportive when you were coming out or deconstructing?

• What do you wish affirming leaders understood about how trauma still lives in our bodies, even in “welcoming” spaces?

• Were there people who truly met you where you were and made you feel safe to explore the spiritual piece? What did that look like?

• What approaches missed the mark, even if well-intended?

  
  

Please feel free to drop thoughts in the comments if that feels easiest.

If you’d like to share more detailed or anonymous input, I also put together a short survey here.

Your insights will help shape trauma-informed resources for both our community and affirming faith leaders. And perhaps eventually, reclaiming our identities, voices, and worth will get a little easier.

[I’m also exploring whether there might be interest in a local Reclamation on Tap night—an informal gathering with later-in-life lesbians and affirming clergy to learn directly from each other. If that sounds interesting, there’s a question about it at the end of the survey.]

Thank you for reading my story, and for being part of a safe and supportive community where we can live out loud.

With light and love,

Julie