I Love Color. That Doesn’t Mean What You Think It Does

You don’t get to decide what my colors say about me

Someone recently saw one of my AI-generated profile photos, the one with the bright, saturated background, and said:

“Are you one of those rainbow-loving gay guys?”

It wasn’t meant with malice. It wasn’t even said rudely. Just a passing comment. A stereotype wrapped in curiosity. But it stuck with me.

So here’s the truth:

No, I’m not gay. I’ve been happily married to my wife for 14 years. I’m a straight, bald, tattooed, bearded guy in his 50s who’s deeply in love with his family.

But yeah, I love color.

And that shouldn’t confuse anyone.

Why I Love Color

Color makes me feel things.

It lifts me. It lights up the darker days. It makes the stuff I create feel more alive, more me.

When I make blog images or AI avatars, I crank the saturation, mess with the hues, make everything pop. I want it to jump off the screen. I want it to reflect what I’m trying to say, even if what I’m saying is messy, raw, imperfect.

Color gives me life. And I don’t want to dull it down just because someone might misread the signal.

The Box People Want to Put You In

I grew up in a world of labels.

You wore black, you were goth. You liked punk, you were rebellious. You smiled too much, you were soft. You cried, you were weak. You loved color, you were probably gay.

This garbage sticks around longer than we think.

But I’m 56 now. I’ve lived through panic attacks, reinvention, failure, and a damn heart attack. I’ve wrestled with shame and silence and the pressure to be something I’m not.

So I’m done toning myself down to fit someone else’s expectations.

Let me be clear:

You don’t get to judge my heart by the colors in my background.

Support Doesn’t Need to Look Like You

And while we’re at it, let me say this:

I support the LGBTQ+ community fully.

Always have. Always will.

Not because I’m part of it, but because I believe in dignity. I believe people deserve to feel safe, seen, and free to live their truth.

I’ve had enough pain in my own life to know what it feels like to be misunderstood. To be shamed. To be othered.

So no, I’m not offended if you think I’m gay because I like color. That’s not an insult.

It just happens to be incorrect.

But it is offensive to think people need to look or act a certain way to be valid. Or that support only counts if it’s subtle and straight-coded.

Color Doesn’t Belong to Anyone

Rainbow flags matter. Pride matters. Visibility matters.

But color itself — color as a form of joy — doesn’t belong to any one group.

Color is for anyone who’s trying to fight off the gray. Anyone who wants to put something bright into a world that often feels bleak. Anyone who’s trying to rebuild something inside themselves and needs a damn orange or hot pink to feel alive again.

I use color because I refuse to go unnoticed. Because I spent too many years in silence. Because I know what it feels like to be invisible.

And now? I want to be seen. Even when that means being misunderstood.

What It Really Means to Be Yourself

Being yourself isn’t about broadcasting every preference or identity. It’s not about proving or defending anything.

It’s about being unapologetic.

I love color. I love texture. I love tattoos and messy stories and words that hurt a little because they’re true.

And I’m tired of the idea that expression has to be boxed up, coded, or explained.

Let people be loud. Let people be bright. Let people wear what lights them up.

We’re not here to match your expectations. We’re here to live.

If You’ve Ever Felt Judged for How You Look…

This is for you.

Whether it’s the clothes you wear, the pronouns you use, the way you speak, or the things that make you happy.

Don’t shrink.

Let them misunderstand you. Let them project their own baggage. Let them wonder.

Then go live your life, brighter than ever.

Me? I’ll Keep Using Color

I’ll keep designing wild, loud headers for my blog. I’ll keep asking AI to give me backdrops that look like a Lisa Frank fever dream. I’ll keep loving neon oranges, saturated purples, electric blues.

Because color is joy. Color is power. Color is rebellion.

And I didn’t make it through all I’ve survived just to live in beige.

No, I’m not gay.
Yes, I love color.
And yes, I support anyone who chooses to show up as they really are — boldly, visibly, unapologetically.

If you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt the need to dull your shine to make someone else comfortable?

Don’t.

Crank it up. Wear the jacket. Use the filter. Post the photo. Paint the wall.

Live like you mean it.

The world has enough gray. Be the color.