From Quiet to Confident: How Unapologetic Queerness Opened Doors

Written by: Mina Šaban

“Hey, you look gay! Get over here!”

Believe it or not, that sentence was the beginning of my openly queer journey at Queen’s. As unhinged as it sounds, what started as an impulsive, slightly unfiltered comment outside a bar became the first step toward finding my people, and eventually, my place within Q+.

In that moment, being loud, visible, and unapologetically myself didn’t just spark a conversation; it opened a door.

Little did I know, I had just yelled that sentence at the Chair of Q+.

What makes that moment almost unbelievable to me now is that I was not always that person.

When I was sixteen, my mom looked at me and said, “The devil is inside of you.”

We were sitting in the living room I grew up in, and suddenly it felt like I didn’t belong there anymore. I hadn’t even come out. My parents had gone through my phone without asking, found photos, and decided that who I was had to be corrected — hidden — undone.

For most of my teenage years, I became very good at shrinking. In my Serbian immigrant household, identity wasn’t something you explored — it was something you managed. My parents carried so much history, so much fear, and their instinct to protect often looked like control. I admired their strength deeply, but their expectations left very little space for me to exist honestly.

So I learned how to compartmentalize. I showed only the parts of myself that felt safe. I made myself smaller in rooms where I felt too visible.

Leaving for university wasn’t dramatic or rebellious — it was necessary. Moving to Kingston gave me something I hadn’t felt before: breathing room. For the first time, I met people who were living openly in ways I had only imagined for myself. Their confidence didn’t intimidate me, but rather it steadied me. Watching other people be unapologetically queer showed me that courage doesn’t always have to be loud. Sometimes it’s just choosing honesty in small, everyday ways.

And slowly, that honesty grew. Instead of retreating inward, I started reaching outward. I gravitated toward people who felt the same quiet loneliness I had carried for years — people who were also looking for community.

Now, being in a leadership position within Q+, I see that night outside the bar differently. What felt like boldness was actually hunger… for connection, for recognition, for belonging.

Serving on this team has given me more than event planning experience or a line on a resume. It has given me the chance to help shape spaces where people don’t have to shrink. I’ve had the privilege of organizing programming that centers queer joy, facilitating conversations about inclusivity, and advocating for environments where students feel safe enough to show up fully as themselves.

And Q+ gave me something else I never expected: my first DJ gig!

It was for a queer event — the iconic Pink Pony Night. I remember standing behind the decks thinking about the sixteen-year-old version of me who felt like she had to hide. And now here I was — not only visible, but amplified. Creating a dance floor where other queer students could feel free.

Without Q+, I genuinely don’t know if I would have found my way into DJing the way I did. That first opportunity opened another door — one that eventually led me to DJ at Stages and step into a highly visible role in Kingston’s nightlife scene.

There is something powerful about being a queer woman in that space. About taking up room. About knowing that someone in the crowd might see me and feel just a little less alone.