"From Bible Belt to Leather Straps: A Pansexual's Journey to Finding Himself"

Hey there, friend. I’m sitting here on late tonight and realizing that I have not made a post in a while. Some of that was my ADHD, but another part was finding out what I should offer up as further insight to my journey and trying to find the right words for it. What I wrote below is what came to mind. I hope you enjoy it and can find a small piece for yourself in it all:

I was reflecting on the winding road that brought me to where I am today. Life is strange sometimes, isn’t it? You go through the motions, think you know who you are, where you’re headed, but the road seems uncertain or you struggle to feel as if the road and map you were given were correct or not, and it takes a landmark or realization to find you way again. That happened to me years ago, and today, I want to share my story with you. Maybe it will resonate with you, or maybe it’ll just help you see that you’re not alone in this wild journey called life.

A little more about me: I grew up in a Southern Baptist home in the middle of the United States. My family held deeply conservative beliefs, and anything outside the lines of what was considered “traditional” was regarded as sinful. Homosexuality, being trans, anything that didn't fit into their narrow view was seen as shameful. It was something to be avoided, ignored, or “prayed away.” And me? I was homeschooled for most of my early years, living a sheltered life. I didn’t know much beyond my little world of family, church, and neighborhood.

Until fifth grade, I didn’t have many friends except for a few older kids in the neighborhood. But they soon grew tired of hanging out with a younger kid like me. So, when I transferred to a private Lutheran school in the fifth grade, I thought I’d finally find a place to fit in. But that wasn’t quite what happened.

The kids at this school had grown up together—wealthy, religious, and confident in themselves. And me? Well, I was the weird, new outsider, trying to make my place in it and being home-schooled made social interactions like trying to dance with two left feet. As for the school, it pushed religious views hard. We had assemblies that were basically church services, and everything we learned had a religious angle to it. I was always on the fringes, trying to stay cool and fit in, but feeling like an outsider at the same time.

When I hit eighth grade, I transferred again—this time to a Calvinist high school. And guess what? It was more of the same. More religious classes, more assemblies preaching the same things. Homosexuality? Only ever discussed as a sin. It was drilled into me that anything other than a straight, cisgender identity was wrong. But even then, deep down, I knew there was more to me than I was letting myself see.

I’d always had an interest in girls. That was never a question for me. But at the same time, I started noticing something else. I remember moments from when I was younger — times when I found myself drawn to men. It was confusing as hell because nothing in my world allowed for that kind of exploration. I remember one particular moment during my time in the scouts. It was at summer camp, and another scout and I fooled around. I was in my teens, and while we never spoke about it afterward, the moment lingered in my mind for years.

Then, in my early 20s, I started noticing other things—like this cute male co-worker who had an amazing ass. I found myself checking out men’s rears as often as I did women’s, but I couldn’t quite make sense of it. Was I gay? Straight? Bi? What was I? I didn’t fit neatly into any of the categories I’d grown up with. I didn’t care as much about the typical physical attributes people usually focused on—genitals, muscles, whatever. What I was drawn to wasn’t so binary. And honestly, personality mattered a whole lot more to me than any physical appearance.

Around that same time, I started dating people who were assigned female at birth or who identified in a feminine way. I was polyamorous and exploring relationships with multiple partners, but I was still struggling to figure out what that meant for my sexuality. It was during this time that I found myself drawn to the Leather scene, and man, that opened a whole new world for me.

I met some incredible people—men who were just beautiful inside and out. And it started to work in my mind that I was more and more attracted to men… or at least acknowledging that side of myself and analyzing those feelings in way that I had not before in my life. It made me wonder ever more and more just who the hell I was and was going to be in my sexual identity.

One group of people that made the greatest impact on me was several lesbian women that I met. There were several over a few years that really connected with me and helped me understand their own lives as I was exploring my own. Watching them help younger LGBTQIA+ people find their footing helped me find my own. I especially connected with the leather lesbians, who had so much wisdom and experience to share. One woman, someone I’ll never forget, became a wonderful help in my time of confusion. She was known as Texas Butch, and was an amazing individual who really offered a great deal of patience and communication with me, even if it was minor conversations. She helped me come to terms with a lot of things about myself.

TB and I had several conversations about life, sexuality, and identity. TB was open about her own struggles, and over time, she helped me to see my own more clearly. Then, one sunny afternoon in the fall when I was 24, I finally allowed myself to really look inside and acknowledge who I was. I was with TB, and we were standing on these wooden steps outside a gay leather bar, under an interstate, of all places. I remember stopping on the stairs, looking at her, and feeling so torn inside. She asked me what was wrong, and for the first time, I said the words out loud. “I am pansexual.”

I was terrified. It felt like stepping out of one life and into another, and I had no idea how people—especially my family—would react. But saying those words was like finally letting go of a weight I didn’t even know I’d been carrying for years. Texas Butch wrapped her arms around me, and it felt like being embraced by someone who truly saw me for the first time. She told me she was proud of me, and in that moment, I felt a sense of acceptance that I hadn’t even realized I was craving.

Since then, it’s been a process. Coming out to myself was the hardest part, but little by little, I’ve shared my truth with others. I’ve opened more about my pansexuality, and with each step, it’s gotten a little easier. And now, I’m in a deeply loving relationship with my male partner. He’s been so supportive, helping me explore and embrace who I am fully. There are still challenges, sure—but the freedom of being true to myself is worth everything I’ve gone through to get here.

Looking back, I realize that taking that first step was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. If you’re struggling with something similar, please know this: you’re not alone. No one can force you to take that step before you’re ready, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation about who you are. It’s your journey, and you’ll take it at your own pace. But if you’re looking for a little encouragement—let me tell you, it can be unbelievably rewarding. It’s freeing in a way that’s hard to describe. Yes, it comes with challenges, but the freedom to be your true self is worth it.

If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. I’m a dad, a daddy, a Dom, a brother, and a patient soul who’s always willing to lend an ear. Sharing these stories can help us all find the light we’re searching for. So, if you’d like to share yours, please do. Let’s help each other bring those who carry shadows into the light.

With love and support,

Tighearn Draiocht