20 | QSALTLAKE MAGAZINE | SPORTS
being at BYU?” Being an out-of-state college student is exhausting. Being a D1 athlete and competing three seasons a school year on a competitive team is exhausting. Trying to succeed at both, with the weight of everything I’ve held back to protect myself, is hell. For me, it’s the little things. Little things I hide about myself, some so small I don’t even notice. The days go by, and the little things pile up until it’s all I PHOTOS COURTESY OF EMMA GEE
Qsaltlake.com |
think about. Until I’m not me anymore. I become something I never intended, the effect and consequence of everything I cannot be. Sometimes I think I deserve an Oscar for the straight performances I’ve turned in. THE WORST PART IS, I know I’m not alone in my experience. Like so many other students at my school, there are times I want it all to end. My inability to fit in with school, church, and BYU’s culture drives every
Issue 303 | AUGUST 22, 2019
thought in my head. I feel everything until I can’t feel anything. And yet. There is something in me that feels stronger than the numbness. Something I developed during years of long-distance running. PERSEVERANCE. Yes, there is pain and anger and frustration and shame. But there is also joy and determination and grit. There is possibility and strength and commitment to every dream I’ve ever had. And the emptiness I feel in those dark moments has nothing on everything I want in life. Emma Gee, left, with teammate Maddie Cannon at the Payton Jordan Invitational at Stanford. Photo by Drifting Crackerjack I work with mental health professionals for support and constantly recommit to prioritizing my well being. I’ve decided If I’m going to accomplish my goals, it will be as myself. April 2018 was the first time I made this commitment. The next week, I came out to BYU athletic administrator Liz Darger. She was supportive and accepting. I subsequently dropped my time in the 3,000-meter steeplechase by 20 seconds, qualifying me for the NCAA regional meet. I had never qualified before. I came out to my family a month later. The conversation was raw and uncomfortable. It was a hard summer living at home, followed by a school year with minimal communication and no physical contact. When I got to cross country camp in the fall, I felt relieved to be around my teammates again. Three miles into the first tempo run of the season I told them, “Running with you guys is where I feel most at home. I just want to let you know I’m bisexual.” “WE LOVE YOU, EMMA.” And we ran on. My coach, Diljeet Taylor, wasn’t even fazed. “I love you, Emma. I’m just glad you finished the tempo. How’s the body feeling?”
