There are many people in my life who know that I’m queer and fully support me. But there are also many who do not. If cancer has taught me anything, it is that life is too damn short not to be fully yourself. So this is my coming out letter for my familia, Peñasco (the little “Hispanic” town we’re from), and the whole world to see.

Growing up Catholic, I was told that there were only boys and girls in this world. I had the impression that dating the opposite sex is what one did. If you were gay, you kept it a secret. And you definitely wouldn’t be getting into heaven if you planned on living that way. I left the Catholic Church long ago but those lessons run deep in me and in so many of my comunidad.

And in many ways, I’ve been living my truth for a very long time. I am a mother of two courageous, amazing kids who are bolder and more self aware than I ever was at their age. My life partner is a radical thinker, a passionate lover, and my favorite person in the whole world to spend time with. We support one another in being our fullest selves and chasing our dreams. We make each other laugh every day and find beauty, even in life’s most difficult moments.

I love the way we’re raising our children in our cultural practices, which we are forever learning ourselves. I love the way we are raising them to advocate for themselves and others, from marching in the streets to speaking their mind. And I love that they are growing up knowing the difference between gender and sex. They not only know their anatomy, but they also know themselves, how they identify, and how that may evolve over time.

They know that mom feels like a female most of the time but that I certainly have a masculine side that warrants expression. I am gender fluid. They know that mom loves dad to infinity. And they know that mom has also loved and dated people who identify in many ways beyond cis gendered males. I am pansexual. And they know that our marriage is a partnership built on a lot of deep, loving, and very detailed communication.

Many know and love these queer ways about our little family. We are incredibly grateful for our comunidad. But there are many relatives who don’t know and I’m honestly not sure how they would react. I don’t think it’s everyone’s business to know all the details of how we live our lives. But I do think it’s our job to live our lives honestly and out loud in a way that frees those generations behind us from the judgement and oppression, often self-inflicted, that we’ve endured.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I felt as though I’d let everyone down. My partner, my children, myself, and especially my dad.

Since my mom died of metastatic cancer 30 years ago, I’ve heard him repeatedly lament as to what they could have done differently, especially what she could have done differently to keep herself from even contracting such a horrible illness. Though he’s expressed confidence in me and the advancements in medicine, he’s also openly expressed his doubts about genetic transmission, instead linking cancer mostly to behavior and lifestyle. Though I know he’s mainly speaking about exercise and eating habits, there is an embedded fear that he and others from home will believe that my “morals” got me exactly what I deserve.

You see, I’ve eaten well and exercised very regularly since the fateful summer of my mother’s death. My dad learned to cope by exploring new diets (often extreme) and exercise routines as a matter of control. I followed along without realizing the issues with food that we were developing. I’ve lived a life of restriction in more ways and for longer than I’d like to admit. But at 37-years-old I was still diagnosed with Stage 3 Breast Cancer.

If my dad or anyone else wants to judge me for how I feel in my own body or who I’m capable of loving, then that’s their choice. I’m choosing to love me enough to heal generational cycles for our ancestros, for all of our babies, and for you, dear reader, whoever you may be.