It's not a pleasant feeling to be simultaneously out of and in the closet. Sure, I've been out as queer to my friends and family since high school (I've even had conversations with professors and advisers about it), and I've recently outed myself to basically half the faculty at my school via our Safe Zone workshop. But ultimately, I'm still afraid of explaining my sexuality to people. I'm afraid of getting into too much detail about who I am. And personally, it creates a psychological toll to still be closeted in certain aspects and not others.

I am pansexual. Many people at my college have assumed I'm a lesbian, firstly because they think I'm a girl, and secondly because when they hear that I'm gay — which I've used to describe myself in general context to avoid having to explain my sexuality to people, which I do out of fear and anxiety — they think it means I'm literally only attracted to the same gender. But even with this lack of understanding, I've always been more open about my sexuality than my gender.

It took me a year of college to even tell my other LGTBQ+ friends that I was transgender, to tell them that I am not a girl, to ask them to treat me like the person I am, and this was after nearly five years of being relatively out of the closet in regards to both gender and sexuality. I had already gone through the process of being "out" in high school — of gently correcting the people who wouldn't harass me for it, of being misgendered at home and at school and at work, of waiting until after class to timidly ask professors to address me correctly (which I only really started doing in college), and silently enduring being treated like someone I'm not and being unable to speak up about it.

The concept of "being in the closet" itself is a more complex state of being than we make it out to be. It's kind of impossible to be 100 percent out because it's not like everyone instantly knows after you tell one person and you never have to bring it up again. But, that aside, I'd essentially put myself "back in the closet" in my freshman year of college because I was scared.

This past year was my sophomore year of college, and I publicly told other students that I was transgender through a friend's Celebrating Diversity campaign. The result of this was other students on my college campus assuming that I was a trans woman. I overheard students in the cafeteria talking to each other to see if they could tell if I had a dick by the way that I walked. I was followed by students on campus who quietly talked to each other about it when they thought I couldn't hear them. On Yik Yak immediately following the Diversity Campaign video, someone posted about "chicks with dicks" with a heart-eyed emoji. (And no, that's not okay. That's transmisogyny, which is misogyny towards trans women.)

The reaction to my friend's Celebrating Diversity campaign helped me realize that I needed to be forthright and confident about who I am. It doesn't do any good to be halfway in the metaphorical closet, even if I do it because I'm afraid, or because I want to protect my future career, or because I don't want to be treated badly. This is all my personal perspective — there is absolutely nothing wrong with being in the closet if that's where you are right now. We all have to survive, and often that's the only way.

One of the worst interactions I've had in regards to coming out as transgender actually involved a close family friend, someone I've known and trusted for over a decade. She had to "mourn" and "grieve" after hearing the news because she couldn't conceive of me as the same person she'd loved for years. I was basically dead to her. I can honestly say that's one of the reactions that encouraged me to go back in the closet.

I know people won't respect me, I know people will question me and want me to justify who I am, I know people will react negatively — these are all things that have happened before. But at some point I chose to become invisible about who I really am, and that has had an emotional toll on me. So I'm ready to be open. I'm ready to have pride in who I am. I created an unintentional feeling of shame for myself when I wasn't open about who I am. It's not healthy, and it ultimately won't change the way people treat me.

I am non-binary, which means I'm not a girl or a boy. Using "she" to refer to me is incorrect, and has been incorrect for the past four years. I use "they/them/their" pronouns, like I have since high school. I'm pansexual, which personally means I'm attracted to all genders. I also describe myself as queer and transgender. If you'd like to ask me a question about these things, feel free.