“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” John 13:34.

Anyone raised in a Christian household of any denomination has probably heard this verse, along with every variation of “God is Love.” And yet, ironically, you find yourself surrounded by people who believe that love comes with a terms and conditions, lest you go to “the big barbecue downstairs,” as one of my teachers nicknamed Hell. But why, in a religion that clearly says that a person cannot speak for God, do so many of its followers feel as though they can do exactly that? What gives them the authority to decide who goes where when they die, or if anyone goes anywhere at all?

And so the teacher gives a bad strawman argument against marriage outside of heteronormativity. And so the teacher says that any marriage outside of the Catholic Church is wrong. And so the teacher bluntly states that the Catholic Church will never accept marriage outside of the heteronormative mold. And it seems nobody else disagrees.

And so the teacher proposes the most rigged debates of all time. And so you are the only one in the class that argues for same-gender marriage and LGBT parenting and you can feel everyone else in the room judging you. You wonder if you should just come clean in a dramatic revelation. But this isn’t a movie and so that probably wouldn't end well. So you argue that people deserve to marry who they love and one’s ability to parent is not defined by their gender, while your classmates condescendingly reply in the negative to both issues by simply stating, “it’s just wrong.”

But what would they know? What would they know of the confusion you faced in childhood of being told a crush is “something you have on boys.” What would they know of the crisis of not knowing what to call your feelings, if a crush is, as they say, simply to be had on boys? What would they know of all the times in middle school where a moment of infatuation was followed by days of shame and fear? What would they know of the sheer terror I faced towards the thought that my life would never be normal, I would never be normal, and I would be doomed to a life as an outsider?

And so you resign yourself to bottle it up. You have had it drilled into your head that those feelings are sinful and will put you in Hell. You can’t go to a GSA (gender and sexuality alliance) club meeting because the school won’t allow that. And so you begin to have some serious questions about the religious environment that you have been immersed in for so long.

The internet becomes your best friend. Your internet takes the place of GSA club meetings and gives you a crash course in what you should know. Youtube shows you LGBT folks living great lives that you would be lucky to emulate. And so you learn that you have nothing to fear.

That fateful day you bring it up to the school counselor. You can barely get the words out. You are worried about the reaction. But as is the nature of these schools, there will always be one or a few token progressives. And you might not know who they are right away because the nature of their job might force them to keep some beliefs to themselves. But once you find them, you will feel an immediate wave of relief that your life is not over simply because you are the romantic equivalent of left handed or ambidextrous.

And yes. Many of those missed softball practices in twelfth grade were spent talking with the counselor about my non-right-handed heart. In case you were wondering what I was doing during that time. And the feeling of being a “glitch” that followed me all through childhood slowly faded. And freshman year of college, I made the best friends in the world and learned to better accept myself for who I am and what I can’t change. The way God made me, as some might say. And as they say in kindergarten, worry about yourself. But always put love into the world.

So yes. I am pansexual. And if some people believe that I’ll go to “the big barbecue downstairs,” so be it. I bet the food’s sinfully good.