At 19, I visited Germany for the first time. Having just ended a significant relationship in my life that I felt was restrictive and suppressive, I had booked a ticket and had taken my first trip out of my country of nationality alone. Up until that point, I had been a regular at the one LGBTQ* friendly club in my hometown but the extent of my knowledge of the queer scene was very limited. Upon arriving, a friend who had been an exchange student at my school (who had also kindly offered to let me stay at hers) informed me that it was Christopher Street Day that weekend. I had no idea what that was. I was up for anything a bit gay though. We’d made plans to go together and check the event out, but at the last minute she had had to work. So, I went alone, which secretly I had kind of preferred anyway.

The whole point of me coming to another city in another country was to break free of the identity that I felt had been created for me at the time and I didn’t feel like I could do that with someone beside me constantly reminding me of who I was. While I was there, my friend had been planning a party for me to surprise me with all of her friends. I kept texting her I’d be back home in half an hour, but I never went to the party.