Shame About Shame: The Queer Mind Under Pressure

You grew up thinking the problem was you.
Not the church that said you were going to hell.
Not the teacher who “forgot” your pronouns.
Not the kid who spit on you in middle school.
You learned to smile. You learned to perform. You learned to hide.

And somewhere in the middle of your survival strategies, you absorbed the idea that being queer is a liability—something that makes you harder to love, harder to help, harder to hold.

That’s what minority stress really does. It’s not just about overt discrimination or hate crimes—though those things happen. It’s the cumulative pressure of being told again and again: you’re wrong for existing. Even if no one says it out loud.

Psychologist Ilan Meyer’s minority stress theory names this pattern. And Alan Downs, in The Velvet Rage, brings it home with this line:

“Shame is a deeply held belief in our own unworthiness for love.”

And here’s the kicker:
We don’t just feel the shame—we start to feel ashamed about having shame.
As in, “Why am I still struggling?”
“Why can’t I just be proud already?”
“Why am I such a mess?”

But none of that is a personal failing. It’s a natural, human response to a dehumanizing world. And it can change.

Here’s where resilience comes in—not the “grit your teeth and rise and grind” kind, but the slow, powerful process of remembering that you were never the problem.

In my work with queer clients, resilience looks like:

  • Naming what hurt instead of minimizing it.

  • Learning how to show up authentically—not just “safely.”

  • Reclaiming pleasure, creativity, and queerness as sacred.

  • Practicing self-compassion instead of self-erasure.

  • Exploring spiritual or existential frameworks that affirm who you are.

You don’t have to conquer shame.
You don’t even have to be done with it.
But you can stop letting it derail your journey.
And you can build a life beyond it.

I work with queer clients who are ready to move beyond shame—not by pretending it’s gone, but by learning to live with truth, pride, and depth. If that speaks to you, let’s talk.

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Brilliant Sanity Isn’t a Goal—It’s Already Yours