When I reflect on my life, I often hear people telling me, “You are so lucky.” A recent conversation with a friend brought this to the forefront when I shared my journey—coming out to my mom at 16 and to the rest of the family by 19, eventually gaining their acceptance. His response, “you are so lucky,” struck a familiar chord. But each time I hear it, I can’t help but feel a bit uneasy. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their sentiment; it’s just that I don’t see my path as a matter of luck.
I once heard Oprah say something that resonates with me deeply: it’s not luck that places us where we are, but the choices we make… way before Albus Dumbledore said it. And I couldn’t agree more. My decision to come out wasn’t a matter of fortune. It was an active, conscious choice made from a place of certainty about who I am. I was, and still am, absolutely sure of my sexuality. It is an irrefutable part of my existence. When I came out to people, I made it clear that this is who I am, and there would be no argument or debate about it.
Luck didn’t play a role in those moments; courage did. Courage, as C.S. Lewis wrote, “is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.” Coming out required that kind of courage—the courage to be unapologetically myself, even at the risk of rejection. I didn’t present my sexuality as a negotiable part of me, but as a fundamental truth. As Mark Twain once remarked, “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear.”
Yet, despite this courage, I rarely take credit for what I’ve achieved. I’ve often compared myself to others, feeling I fall short in the shadow of their accomplishments. But when I look back on my own life, I see that my journey, my milestones, have been remarkable in their own right. My family’s acceptance wasn’t a matter of luck; it was a result of my unwavering stance. I gave them no choice but to accept me as I am. And if they didn’t, I was ready to move on without them. It was simple, and they recognized that strength.
As Ralph Waldo Emerson wisely noted, “The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.” I decided to live authentically, and the world had no option but to accept it. I don’t stand for mere tolerance, because tolerance, to me, is just a polite way of saying, “We don’t like you, but we’ll put up with you.” That’s not the life I want. I want to be accepted wholly, and if that’s not possible, then I’ll move on.
So, what is luck to me? It’s a fleeting concept, a brush of serendipity that might bring someone into your life. But beyond that, luck holds no lasting power. People come and go despite your best efforts. The truth is, I don’t attribute my journey to luck. Instead, I credit my honesty with myself and others. As Seneca once said, “Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.” In my case, preparation took the form of self-awareness, honesty, and courage. I choose to live according to who I am, and that is the only role I play in this life.
Ultimately, the notion of luck feels like a disservice to the courage it takes to live authentically. For me, it’s about ownership of who I am and the choices I make. Those choices—not luck—are what shape my life and define my future.
Hearts Still Care 