Silenced, Banned, Erased—And Yet, Here I Am

They tried to erase me.

They shut down my voice, my platform, my presence. They whispered that I was too much, too loud, too defiant. They wanted me gone. They failed.

I’ve been banned, shadowbanned, kicked out, shut down, erased from spaces I built with my own hands—all because I refuse to be anything less than unapologetically myself. The world is terrified of people who are too fearless, too confident, too unwilling to shrink to fit its fragile expectations. And trust me, the world has tried everything to break me.

Let me tell you a story.

The Gay Orphan They Thought Would Disappear

At 16, I stood in the ruins of what was supposed to be my home. A home that no longer existed for me. A family that had chosen to cut me off rather than love me. No money, no safety, no one to call. Just me against the world.

I remember thinking: This is how it ends.

Because what do you do when the people who created you decide you no longer deserve to exist? When they erase you from their world like you were nothing?

You either fade away quietly—or you rise from the ashes and make damn sure they never forget your name.

I chose the second option.

UWC: My Escape, My Salvation, My Revolution

I fought my way into UWC like my life depended on it—because, in many ways, it did. UWC wasn’t just a school; it was a lifeline, a chance to redefine everything they told me I could never be.

It was there that I learned how to reclaim my voice, how to exist without apology. I found my people—the rebels, the outcasts, the ones who never quite fit into neat little boxes. UWC wasn’t about following the rules of the world; it was about breaking them and rewriting them in a way that made sense.

For the first time, I was more than a mistake, more than a problem to be fixed. I was a force.

And once you taste that kind of freedom, you never go back.

Then Came Skidmore—And the Next Chapter

When I chose Skidmore, it wasn’t because it was safe—it was because I was ready to build something bigger. I wasn’t just here to get a degree. I was here to shake the foundations, to create a space where my voice and the voices of those like me could be louder than ever.

And that’s exactly what I did.

The Blog That Wouldn’t Die

I created The Slaying Blog because I was tired of being shut down. Tired of watching the world try to silence queer voices. Tired of playing by rules that were never meant for people like me.

And oh, they tried. They banned me. They blocked me. They reported me. They tried to bury everything I had to say under layers of censorship and fear.

But here’s the thing about people like me: we don’t disappear.

Every time they tried to shut me down, I came back louder.
Every time they tried to erase me, I rewrote my name in even bolder letters.
Every time they thought they had won, I was already five steps ahead.

So here we are. The Slaying Blog is alive. And this time, there’s no stopping me.

This Is Your Warning

This blog isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s not for people who want sugar-coated nonsense or watered-down opinions.

This is for the ones who know what it’s like to be silenced.
For the ones who were told to sit down and shut up.
For the ones who refuse to shrink themselves just to make others comfortable.

And for the ones who hate me? Oh, you’ll be reading this too. You always do.

So welcome to my world.
Watch me slay.
Or stay mad. Either way, I’m not going anywhere.

Stay tuned—this is just the beginning.