In The Closet

In the closet

Written by Isabella Castelo

Art by Christina Casper

When a straight person thinks of queer fashion, I imagine they think of baggy cargo pants, button-ups, and vests—a lot of vests. These styles are highlighted in the media today, and expand their influence to all fashion fanatics, gay or straight.    

However, queer people know queer fashion doesn’t begin with these trendy silhouettes. We know it finds its roots in plaid Bermuda shorts, your brother's swim trunks, softball uniforms, and yes, vests—a lot of vests. When I flip through the pages of an old photo book, QUEER jumps off the page. I’m baffled at how I was able to maintain a heterosexual front for so long. Looking back, my sexuality seems comedically obvious. 

June, 2011

Every gay person has that one picture that they use as their, “Oh I’ve BEEN gay” picture. This is mine. Every aspect of my outfit can be used as evidence in a homosexual court of law. The rainbow bike, the knee-length skirt, the “Pride” plastered across my chest… It was even taken in June. 

At eight, I didn’t know what sexuality was and didn’t have autonomy over my life. I went to softball because my mom signed me up, I had a rainbow bike because my parents bought it for me, and I smiled for this picture because my mom made me. Yet, I can still feel the one thing about myself that no one could control: my sexuality. Nothing my parents signed me up for or made me do would prevent this inevitable outcome, and I see that in the creepy smile I’m giving to the camera. 

May, 2012

From a young age, I never felt beautiful like I thought my friends were. Despite being nine years old, I wanted my looks to be commented on. I wore this tie-up halter top that revealed my shoulders and flowed out over my torso. I had broad shoulders and held onto my baby fat longer than most, but I loved the way I felt in this top. I wanted someone to agree, I wanted someone to tell me that I was beautiful. 

I was at brunch with my dad’s side of the family, the side with my Tia Maria. Where no one else in my family chooses to express themselves through clothing, my Tia makes up for their ineptitude. She takes all the style for herself, and is unquestionably beautiful. This afternoon in May, she told me I reminded her of her younger self. I got what I begged for, and I think about this day more often than I should, even 12 years later. 

August, 2013

Having a twin brother affected how I viewed myself and my sexuality as a young girl. I was confused because he got to go to the beach without a shirt, he got to go to Comic Con with my dad, and adults never made comments about his innocent interactions with female peers. I didn’t understand why I had to wear a green polka dot tankini, or why when I held my friend Brian’s hand our parents winked at each other. 

We were very close growing up and I wanted to be just like him. In the summer of 2013, my hatred for female beach attire grew to a maximum. I begged my brother to let me wear his bathing suit, and I threw out that green tankini I hated so much. I loved wearing these camo board shorts, no matter how uncomfortable the mesh lining was, or how many times people thought I was a young boy. In these shorts, I was allowed to do whatever I wanted and move however I liked. Despite still being made to wear a shirt to the beach, it was one my brother wore too, making me one step closer to his equal. 
As a kid, I hated what made me different. Instead of embracing these parts of me, I learned to compensate for them. I continue to take these self-taught lessons with me in my very out, very adult life. Now, at 20 years old, I attribute my humor, my compassion, my intelligence, and my unique style to being a little weird growing up. I turned the parts of me that I hated into my most admirable qualities. I’m glad I was so bad at hiding who I was, because not only is it a source of a good laugh, it's also a comforting reminder that sometimes hiding is impossible.