I've been called a lot of things in my life: publicist, gossip columnist, TV host, and loud and fabulous (too much, not enough). But the one word that's shaped everything absolutely everything is "gay."For a long time, I thought it was the thing I had to hide. I felt it was a weakness and a problem to fix; a part of myself I should tone down or dress up depending on the room. I grew up in Birmingham, England, in a working-class family with very little money and even less tolerance for "difference."And baby, I was different.Today, I know better. Today, I know my gayness is not a curse or something to be locked in a closet. It's a crown. It's the reason I'm still standing. It's the engine behind every success, second chance, and reinvention. Being gay didn't just shape me it saved me.It's not my burden. It's my superpower.Being a gay kid in a tough neighborhood in the UK in the '80s was no picnic. I was teased, bullied, and often terrified. I knew I was different before I even had a word for it. And because the world didn't yet make room for boys like me, I made myself small.I kept secrets. I learned to read people the way some kids learn to read books: quickly and with absolute precision. I became adept at anticipating what others wanted to see and provided it to them. That's not just a coping mechanism. That's training to survive.But that pain that camouflage gave me something invaluable: empathy. A genuine understanding of what it means to feel invisible, unheard, unprotected. And that's what makes it a superpower: not the pain itself, but what you do with it.I brought my accent, ambition, and my secret weapon with me when I moved to New York. I worked in PR, eventually repping some of the biggest stars in the world, from Jennifer Lopez to Jessica Simpson and Naomi Campbell. I knew how to protect people because I'd protected myself for so long. I learned how to spin a story because I'd spun one about myself every day of my youth.I became a trusted fixer, confidant, and, most importantly, someone who could shift the energy in the room just by being present. That's not arrogance; it's instinct. It's the same instinct gay kids develop as teenagers to stay safe.I just turned it into a career.Eventually, I left PR and stepped into the spotlight. Hosting TV shows, writing columns, launching the Naughty But Nice with Rob podcast, and publishing my book, The 4 Word Answer. None of that would've happened if I had stayed afraid of who I was. Coming out didn't limit my life; it exploded open.Here's something I didn't understand when I was younger: joy is power. Queer joy, especially, is rebellious. It says, "I am who I am, and I will love, laugh, and live without shame." That scares people who live in fear. It threatens systems that are built on silence.Sometimes, just existing joyfully is the most radical thing you can do.When I came out, I lost some people. But I found better ones. Those who love me unconditionally, tell me the truth, and know how to throw a proper dinner party. Some of them are gay, some straight, some drag queens, some moguls. All of them are part of my chosen family I've built over the years.Chosen family is a gay superpower. It's resilience in human form. And every time someone tells me they feel seen or heard because of something I wrote, said, or wore on TV that's family too.Another superpower? Humor. Darling, I'm funny. And not just "haha" funny. I'm "take a tense room and turn it into a cocktail party" funny. That comes from pain, sure. But also from love. I don't use humor to deflect. I use it to connect. Being gay means growing up with a lot of material. From awkward coming-outs to ridiculous fashion faux pas, from heartbreak to hard-won victories. We've lived it all. And when we share it, we remind the world that being different isn't a tragedy. It's a triumph.We're living in a moment where LGBTQ+ rights are under attack again. Books are being banned, drag queens are vilified, and trans kids are targeted. It's tempting to get quiet and retreat. But I won't.I'm here, I'm visible, and I'm not going anywhere. Being gay isn't just my journey, but a public declaration that everyone deserves dignity, respect, and a place at the table. If my life story helps even one person feel less alone, that's more powerful than any cape or magic wand.So, if you're reading this and still struggling to accept who you are, hear me when I say this: You are not broken. You are not alone. You are not too much.You are powerful.And if you're gay, darling, you're superpowered.Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ community and its allies. Visit Out.com/submit to learn more about submission guidelines. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists, and editors, and do not directly represent the views of Out or our parent company, equalpride.