Being gay for me has meant having a special and very close community of like souls, both men and women who often have been outsiders, but never let themselves feel they are victims. It has opened up experiences, closeness, choices and relationships I would have otherwise missed. Ultimately, I never felt being heterosexual would assure me of any privilege or choices I do not have already.

I am keenly aware of all forms of stigma, discrimination and unfair laws that separate gay people and couples from others – but that has given many of us a purpose, by trying to dismantle, battle and end those barriers.

When I was much younger, being gay also meant finding someone to fall in love with. After nearly 20 years together now, I am more sure than ever that I am in love more every day with the man I’m with and the man I plan to marry too. I love being gay, and would never consider even slight longing to be anything else.

I’ve been active in gay civil rights most of my adult life. Two decades ago, I opened one of America’s first communications firms to help shape gay-friendly practices and policies in corporate America. I’ve tried hard to be a bridge-builder who sees opportunity and benefit when LGBT people are recognized, respected and reckoned with – and with the aim to achieve our equal measure of rights and responsibilities.

(The gay community in D.C. is) Hard to define or to single out, of course. Most people seem to come to Washington later in life, for school or to pursue career goals. I was born here, and Washington DC always has been my community – or a mix of communities. We tend to be more fixated on politics of course, and more global with a very transient and international bent too.

You might say we were once a small southern town with a lot of pretensions to be a more sophisticated world capital. The men and women who live and work here, gay and straight, are ambitious, smart, and probably not so fashion-forward as other cities or in other world capitals. We tend to work long hours, but also have a love of celebration, travel, good food and good sports.

Coming out is a lifetime of steps. I first began poking my head out with friends and family members in my early and mid 20s after leaving college. While I worked at the U.S. State Department immediately after graduation, and later in the U.S. Senate, being completely open did not seem an option at the time.

Having been raised in the Christian faith it’s easy for me to draw strong connections between my “coming out” story and my salvation experience. A salvation experience is a defining and pivotal moment in the life of a Christian. It’s a conscious belief in and acceptance of the Son of God. When I “came out” you could say the experience was a similar one. “Coming out” became a part of me. It was another way I might identify and describe myself.

I was 23 when I told my mother I was gay. It happened on a Sunday morning over phone before a weekend shift at a second job. There were tears. I was late for my shift.

For me, “coming out” was much more than an admission to same-sexuality. It was existential. From that place of brokenness and questioning, I believe I chose for the very first time in my life. Not that I necessarily chose to be gay, but that I CHOSE to create meaning for myself from this new place of understanding.

In “coming out” I realized even in the absence of my strong ties to family and friends and an inextricable link to God through faith I STILL AM. At first, I felt alone in this realization. Terribly alone. But then the life I knew began to come back into focus. A new level of consciousness emerged. It was still terrifying but now wonderful too. I am humbled by this transition every day. What am I to make of it? Who am I now to become in light of it?

Undoubtedly, the biggest challenge for me has been the acceptance of myself. I often tell friends when we finally break through the walls of social and political norms and find ourselves more on the inside than on the out our work as gay people will finally begin.

Gay people spend so much energy fighting the fight. It’s essential, yes. But I have a hunch (and this may be me projecting here). Our activism keeps us productively distracted from a deeper level of self-acceptance.

DC is a big small town. I love being able to walk to and from anywhere and spot a friend or acquaintance in passing. DC’s gay community is very much the same way.