Queer in Gozo: Seen, Judged, and Still Standing

I am a seventeen-year-old queer Gozitan living in Gozo, and if I’m being honest, it’s tough out here. At home, at school, even just walking down the streets of my hometown—everywhere I go, the glares and the comments people make, with no shame whatsoever, are incredibly hard to deal with. Especially when it’s just because I’m queer and happen to exist on the same island as them.

What hurts even more is that I never officially came out to anyone. The words “I’m gay” never came out of my mouth to tell the people closest to me. My mother had to hear—or rather, see—it from people who can’t mind their own business. A picture of me at the Gozo Pride parade was sent around with a message underneath, calling me, her daughter, a slur.

Ever since I attended Pride in September, I’ve been exposed. Everyone who recognized me—and trust me, a lot of people did, Gozo being such a small island—knew I was gay, and it was like a switch flipped in their attitudes. I always smiled at people, always treated everyone with the kindness and respect that any human being deserves, but after that, I started getting looks that made me feel like my existence was wrong, like something to be ashamed of. I’ve been called il-lesbjana more times than I can count by people I don’t even know. Everyone says to just keep my head held high and ignore them, but it hurts a lot more than I expected.

Even with everything I’ve said, I don’t regret going to Pride. Yes, I suffered the consequences. Yes, my family will never look at me the same way again. I lost people because of it. But you know what? That entire day, I was smiling without a care in the world, and I felt like the world was smiling back at me. I didn’t care what people were going to think, because I knew I was surrounded by people just like me—people filled to the brim with love to give. I think it was the only day where I wasn’t insecure. I danced without the fear of being judged. I sang at the top of my lungs, even though I’m tone-deaf—but I didn’t care. I was truly happy. The warmth I received that day was worth it. Worth every dirty look, every slur, every friend I lost—because I knew I had people who would love me and support me.