I kissed a girl for the first time in high school, but I didn't come out as bisexual until my mid-twenties. My college was welcoming of LGBTQ students, but the other queer kids seemed so confident in their identities that I retreated further into the closet. After I shyly told a few friends that I thought I might be bisexual, I heard a rumor that an acquaintance asked if I was "really" bisexual or just one of those straight girls who claimed to be bi for clout. I was humiliated and angry and wondered if she was right. After all, I'd kissed and dated so many boys. Meanwhile I'd kissed two girls. Never mind that I had huge crushes on girls in my classes and couldn't string a sentence together to flirt with them effectively.

I longed to go to parties at Open House, the student program house that was the center of gay life at Wesleyan, but I was so scared that someone would question if I belonged there. I had no proof of my queerness. Surely I'd fail any vetting process.

Now I understand that I saw the other queer students on campus through the filter of my insecurity. I regret the time I wasted worrying about whether or not my queerness "counted." There was no bouncer at the door of Open House refusing to admit people who weren't Gay Enough. Aside from that one rude biphobic acquaintance, the exclusion was in my head.

But I wasn't alone, either. When I went to my five-year reunion, I discovered so many of my peers had come out as gay or trans or ace since graduation. And those kids who seemed so confident to me in their identities as undergraduates? They were struggling just as much to feel like they belonged. Embracing who you are takes the time it takes. It's never too late to find your queer community.

In my novel But How Are You, Really, the center of queer community at Hein University is Acronym, a student program house inspired by Open House at my alma mater. It is a place where students feel safe no matter who they are or where they are on their journey to self-acceptance. Charlotte lived there for a semester as an undergraduate, and she returns several times during her reunion in But How Are You Really. I felt joy and pride as I wrote its colorful decor and graffitied walls into existence.

Acronym house is not a fantasy or a dream. There are places like it on college campuses, in indie feminist bookstores, in gay bars and queer open mic nights. You can create a community hub in a living room or a group chat. I longed to go back to college for so long because I craved that community, but I build queer community for myself as an adult. Writing this book was an effort to do that.

I hope queer folks feel represented by my novel, regardless of their relationship status or their visibility or their age. The central romance of But How Are You, Really is m/f, but it is a queer book about a bisexual woman navigating biphobia in all aspects of her life. And her friends... I can't wait for you to meet Jackie, Nina, Jio, and more. While Charlotte is the main character, I made an effort to make sure each character has their own story unfolding alongside hers, whether she's fully aware of it or not.

I really hope this book reaches queer folks who linger on the fringes of the community, the bisexuals in so-called "straight" relationships and the folks in the closet worried they won't seem "queer enough" to be included. You do not have to prove yourself to anyone. You are enough. You are welcome here with me.

This post originally appeared on my Patreon here.