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Gabby Gibson Reflects On Her Journey To Self-Acceptance
June is Pride Month, and we’re so excited to be celebrating the LGBTQIA+ community all month long. We’re kicking things off with a beautiful essay and poem by Gabby Gibson, a team member at barre3 Boca Raton. Read on to learn about Gabby’s journey to self-acceptance, and how learning to tune into her authentic self in barre3 class helped her do the same in her life outside of the studio.
For more ways to celebrate Pride Month with us, check out our free, donation-based class series, shop our first-ever Pride Collection in the B3 Shop, and tune into the barre3 Instagram and the B3 Magazine all month long.
Do you have a Pride story to share? We would love to hear from you! Email us anytime at dei@barre3.com.
Throughout my life, I have wanted to be a lot of things. When I was seven years old, I wanted to save the world as a veterinarian. When I was 13, I swore to everyone that I would make a difference as a real-life Olivia Benson, of Law & Order fame. When I got to college, I dreamed of creating a better future as a teacher with my very own classroom.
With all of these dreams, I was inspired deeply by the fierce authenticity of others—people who lived out their stories in a way that not only made me want to root for them, but was a catalyst that empowered me to honor my WHOLE truth, with nothing to prove yet everything to share.
It is in this that I realized that while I’ve wanted to be a lot of different things in life, more than anything, I’ve wanted to be myself.
I wanted to live in my own storyline and rewrite the narrative so that others could see that they were (and ARE) the hero, too.
I’ve walked into several different spaces in my life, and I’ve always felt the need to become someone else (or less of myself) to fit in. Imagine becoming a different character for every community you’re a part of: school, work, home. It feels like a puzzle piece with worn edges; I fit, but it never felt quite right. I grew up with a family who did not believe in mental health, who would make side comments about those in the LGBTQIA+ community, and would ignore hard conversations surrounding important topics like body image and identity. Because of this, there were spaces where parts of who I am fit right in with expectations and norms, and parts of me I did not want to explore or open up about because they were so taboo to the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally.
How much of myself I was and could be was different, depending on the private or public spaces I was in. It was as if I would never be the character who gets “happily ever after,” because I was too consumed with the role I played in other people’s stories.
It was hard to be myself when it seemed like everyone wanted me to be someone else—or so I thought, until I met my best friend during high school. She was the one person who understood me, who supported me unconditionally, and who knew all of my peaks and valleys like the back of her own hand. With her, I felt brave. I felt safe. I felt as though I could bring all of me to the table and feel loved and valued. For me, she was love—the type of love I did not know could exist between two women.
While I can’t say that this is the moment where I knew—where I came out to myself—it was the first time I let myself wander into what it could be like if I lived in and acted on what made me feel true, whole, and authentic. Yet, like every main character, I ran back to what felt familiar. I pushed this notion away. My thoughts raced. What if I did like women? Where would this lead? Was it all just in my head? What would my family think? I’ve only ever dated boys—no one will believe me.
Now, I want to pause right here, because my coming-out story is not one definitive moment of falling in love with the woman of my dreams. Instead, it is a journey—a series of moments where I had to decide to choose myself and honor my heart. It’s not one big plot twist, but rather a series of opportunities where I finally got to step into who I really was, no matter what was behind me or ahead of me. My coming-out story is a series of (sometimes scary) opportunities to have nothing to prove in the grand scheme of things, but everything—love, passion, hurt, healing—to share.
A huge part of that series of opportunities bloomed when I joined our barre3 Boca Raton team. It sounds cliched, but it’s true. I mentioned earlier that growing up, I was surrounded by family who didn’t let me live out all of my story. But barre3 has been there to process some of my darkest chapters, honor the strength that comes out of them, and help me feel empowered to be the hero coming out of it all.
When I first started barre3 here in Boca Raton, I was constantly encouraged to “honor” and listen to my body, to explore modifications or take the layer. While those words—and that mindset to come as you are because it’s enough—are planted in our studio, they are watered and cared for far beyond that. They inspired me to practice authenticity in real life. Just like the series of opportunities our instructors gave me to come out into loving my body, their words and care—whether they realize it or not—gave me the space and the courage to step into who I really am, no matter what has been behind or ahead of me, in my whole being. They were the chosen family that made me feel as though my story was not only worth hearing, but worth living and healing. They made me proud to be me.
Coming out means going in –
Into myself and my storyline
Which sometimes feels like going into the eye of a hurricane
With a chrysalis made of rock
It has protected my wings
Which weren’t always there
I spent most of my time as the caterpillar
And not the butterfly
I clipped my own wings
-kept myself invisible in a house that was not a home
Coming out means finding a home in every place- because home is in me, and I deserve
to be everywhere and anywhere I want.
Home is the pen in my own hand
4 walls built for myself, by myself
With a garden I’ve learned to water with empathy on my bad days and vulnerability to
share on the good.
Coming out means going in
Into the storm, knowing that sometimes-
….Almost always….
there isn’t a rainbow, because you were made to be it
-Gabby Gibson
June is Pride Month, and we’re so excited to be celebrating the LGBTQIA+ community all month long. We’re kicking things off with a beautiful essay and poem by Gabby Gibson, a team member at barre3 Boca Raton. Read on to learn about Gabby’s journey to self-acceptance, and how learning to tune into her authentic self in barre3 class helped her do the same in her life outside of the studio.
For more ways to celebrate Pride Month with us, check out our free, donation-based class series, shop our first-ever Pride Collection in the B3 Shop, and tune into the barre3 Instagram and the B3 Magazine all month long.
Do you have a Pride story to share? We would love to hear from you! Email us anytime at dei@barre3.com.
Throughout my life, I have wanted to be a lot of things. When I was seven years old, I wanted to save the world as a veterinarian. When I was 13, I swore to everyone that I would make a difference as a real-life Olivia Benson, of Law & Order fame. When I got to college, I dreamed of creating a better future as a teacher with my very own classroom.
With all of these dreams, I was inspired deeply by the fierce authenticity of others—people who lived out their stories in a way that not only made me want to root for them, but was a catalyst that empowered me to honor my WHOLE truth, with nothing to prove yet everything to share.
It is in this that I realized that while I’ve wanted to be a lot of different things in life, more than anything, I’ve wanted to be myself.
I wanted to live in my own storyline and rewrite the narrative so that others could see that they were (and ARE) the hero, too.
I’ve walked into several different spaces in my life, and I’ve always felt the need to become someone else (or less of myself) to fit in. Imagine becoming a different character for every community you’re a part of: school, work, home. It feels like a puzzle piece with worn edges; I fit, but it never felt quite right. I grew up with a family who did not believe in mental health, who would make side comments about those in the LGBTQIA+ community, and would ignore hard conversations surrounding important topics like body image and identity. Because of this, there were spaces where parts of who I am fit right in with expectations and norms, and parts of me I did not want to explore or open up about because they were so taboo to the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally.
How much of myself I was and could be was different, depending on the private or public spaces I was in. It was as if I would never be the character who gets “happily ever after,” because I was too consumed with the role I played in other people’s stories.
It was hard to be myself when it seemed like everyone wanted me to be someone else—or so I thought, until I met my best friend during high school. She was the one person who understood me, who supported me unconditionally, and who knew all of my peaks and valleys like the back of her own hand. With her, I felt brave. I felt safe. I felt as though I could bring all of me to the table and feel loved and valued. For me, she was love—the type of love I did not know could exist between two women.
While I can’t say that this is the moment where I knew—where I came out to myself—it was the first time I let myself wander into what it could be like if I lived in and acted on what made me feel true, whole, and authentic. Yet, like every main character, I ran back to what felt familiar. I pushed this notion away. My thoughts raced. What if I did like women? Where would this lead? Was it all just in my head? What would my family think? I’ve only ever dated boys—no one will believe me.
Now, I want to pause right here, because my coming-out story is not one definitive moment of falling in love with the woman of my dreams. Instead, it is a journey—a series of moments where I had to decide to choose myself and honor my heart. It’s not one big plot twist, but rather a series of opportunities where I finally got to step into who I really was, no matter what was behind me or ahead of me. My coming-out story is a series of (sometimes scary) opportunities to have nothing to prove in the grand scheme of things, but everything—love, passion, hurt, healing—to share.
A huge part of that series of opportunities bloomed when I joined our barre3 Boca Raton team. It sounds cliched, but it’s true. I mentioned earlier that growing up, I was surrounded by family who didn’t let me live out all of my story. But barre3 has been there to process some of my darkest chapters, honor the strength that comes out of them, and help me feel empowered to be the hero coming out of it all.
When I first started barre3 here in Boca Raton, I was constantly encouraged to “honor” and listen to my body, to explore modifications or take the layer. While those words—and that mindset to come as you are because it’s enough—are planted in our studio, they are watered and cared for far beyond that. They inspired me to practice authenticity in real life. Just like the series of opportunities our instructors gave me to come out into loving my body, their words and care—whether they realize it or not—gave me the space and the courage to step into who I really am, no matter what has been behind or ahead of me, in my whole being. They were the chosen family that made me feel as though my story was not only worth hearing, but worth living and healing. They made me proud to be me.
Coming out means going in –
Into myself and my storyline
Which sometimes feels like going into the eye of a hurricane
With a chrysalis made of rock
It has protected my wings
Which weren’t always there
I spent most of my time as the caterpillar
And not the butterfly
I clipped my own wings
-kept myself invisible in a house that was not a home
Coming out means finding a home in every place- because home is in me, and I deserve
to be everywhere and anywhere I want.
Home is the pen in my own hand
4 walls built for myself, by myself
With a garden I’ve learned to water with empathy on my bad days and vulnerability to
share on the good.
Coming out means going in
Into the storm, knowing that sometimes-
….Almost always….
there isn’t a rainbow, because you were made to be it
-Gabby Gibson
