Internalized homophobia creeps in when society’s prejudice becomes the critical voice inside our own minds.

It begins subtly and takes so many forms. I’ve seen it in people avoiding gestures or tones that might “give them away,” steering clear of clothes or styles that might cause “swipe left” with judgment, and even distancing themselves from those who are more expressive. This reveals dating preferences that exclude “fems,” “chubs,” or “effeminate” men—standards shaped less by attraction and interest, more by a desire to align with heteronormative ideals of masculinity. It conceals behind the word “discreet,” a term often romanticized as confidence, but sometimes masks a fear of being seen.

Media representations have played a big role in shaping these ideals. On screen and in ads, gay men are portrayed as stylish, attractive, well-built, and emotionally composed—the so-called “ideal gay.” Shows featuring gay characters usually spotlight those who fit mainstream beauty and masculinity standards, leaving little space for diverse portrayals.

Rarely do we see feminine, people of color, or imperfectly glossy gay men portrayed as desirable or successful. This narrow lens gently teaches the community that acceptance is conditional — that queerness is only celebrated when it looks palatable to the public eye. Continuing to portray queerness in this way not only stalls the audience’s understanding, but it may also corrupt their impression and treatment of queer individuals.

With this, education and representation play vital roles in this transformation. Media that portrays gay individuals beyond stereotypes allows understanding of the full spectrum of who we are, both within and outside the community.

Healing from this ingrained stigma takes time. It starts by unlearning the shame unfairly placed on us. It means catching ourselves when biased thoughts or words slip out—even those directed at our own. It’s about reclaiming the parts of ourselves we have once silenced.

Honestly, there is nothing wrong with having our own preferences, as long as we do not impose them to make others feel inferior. We should admire people who always pose themselves with confidence, love, and passion, the ones who act without judgment and hesitation, who speak with confidence and flair, and who live their queerness as naturally as breathing. 

Perhaps, the real revolution begins when we stop policing one another and start healing together. Because the battle for equality doesn’t end when the world stops hating us. It ends when we stop hating ourselves.

Editor’s Note: This article was first issued in the December 2025 First Semester Newsletter of Atenews.