Photo credit: Cyndy Riggs

From Oprah Magazine

At OprahMag.com, we encourage our readers to authentically be themselves. So we’re commemorating Pride Month and the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall riots withLoud and Proud, a selection of voices and stories that highlight the beauty—and ongoing struggles—of the LGBTQ community.

In the essay below, Cyndy Riggs, 21, shares her coming out story as part of Verizon and PFLAG's "Love Calls Back" campaign, in which members of the LGBTQ community reunite with relatives who initially didn't support them for simply being themselves.

Growing up as a Mormon in Utah, my life was pretty typical. I went to school, I was involved in community activities, I attended church every Sunday, and I had quite a few friends. But for years, I held on to a secret: no one knew I was a lesbian.

I understood from an early age that I liked girls. When I was a kid, I thought girls were simply cute, and as I got older and learned what attraction meant, I realized that I wanted to be with a girl.

From middle school through high school I was very much isolated with my sexuality. I never pursued a relationship—and no one wanted to be with a “closet girlfriend”—so I just minded my own business.

I spent most of my freshman year in 2013 trying to make a good impression academically. But in 2014, during my sophomore year, I decided it was time to come out to my mom. While working at a local amusement park, I contemplated how to tell her—so I texted her a long paragraph describing my feelings about other women. And my mom, whose name is also Cyndy, replied with: “Whatever. It’s just a phase. Pray about it.”

Photo credit: Cyndy Riggs

That night, I turned to a friend for a ride home from work simply because I didn't want to see my mom—and I sensed she didn't want to see me either. I got home at 3 a.m. that morning and went straight to bed. Over the next few days, we were distant, and definitely didn't discuss the topic. We didn't achieve any closure.

Story continues

Of course, my mom and I talked again after I came out—but never about my sexuality. Between 2014 and 2017, I kind of just did my own thing, and the topic was pushed to the back of her mind, where she hoped for it to stay. After my older sister took me to my first Pride event, I tried to hang the rainbow flag up in my room, but my mom told me to take it down that same day.

We didn't address my sexuality again until January 2017, when I started dating my first girlfriend. And while my mom did get to know my ex, it wasn't until we broke up in 2018 that the subject quickly came up again.

After coming, I experienced a roller coaster of emotions for years. On one hand, my mom's reaction made me wish I could take it all back, that I could make myself love guys and make her happy. On the other, her reaction made me express my Pride unapologetically. I repeatedly told myself, "You're human," "You're important," and "Mom still loves you." Of course, I questioned my entire existence: What if I got kicked out? What if mom really did stop loving me? Do my siblings and dad still love me?

Ultimately, my mother's opinion mattered the most—especially since I knew deep down that my other family members had my back.

Photo credit: Cyndy Riggs

As I mentioned, the topic of my sexuality wasn't brought up because I didn't want my mom to have a break down or ignore me. But it weighed heavily on me, especially once it held me back from living a normal life and pursuing relationships, or simply going to school dances. I tried to follow her wishes—to go on dates with men—but this only made me feel like I was deteriorating.

This year, thanks to the "Love Calls Back" campaign, my mother and I settled it once and for all. She called me and told me, "When you first called me, I should have told you how much I loved you then. Whoever you bring into this home will have my love also. I love you very much." That call (watch the video below) brought us closer together—and I can now honestly say she fully loves me and accepts me. Since, we've become best friends, and we're like two peas in a pod.



I wanted to share my story so people will understand what it’s really like to come out of the closet—that it's not a funny phrase to throw around. At the end of the day, I want people to know we are all human—regardless of our race, the home we come from, our sexuality, or our past. After any human's life, an autopsy would reveal that we all have lungs, a heart, and blood. Even though we come from different places, we breathe the same air.

Photo credit: Cyndy Riggs

Looking back, my only regret in the coming out process is that I let fear consume me. It was so draining. Day in and day out I tried to maintain the same routine to prevent people from knowing I am a lesbian.

Life is too short to live in the dark, to feel like you’re a burden or stuck in a corner. I want people in situations similar to mine to step out of their comfort zones and push past fear. It's okay to not be okay and feel scared. I promise that no matter the outcome of your story—someone does love you.

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