The most important thing for me was to never, ever, ever deny it.

“The most important thing for me was to never, ever, ever deny it. But I didn’t really have the courage to talk about it. I was thinking, The people who need to know I’m gay know.”
Thus spoke Portia de Rossi, an actress of grace and strength, whose journey toward authenticity became a light for many who struggled in silence. In this confession lies the eternal struggle between truth and fear, between the longing to be known and the instinct to protect oneself from a world not yet ready to accept that truth. Her words are both humble and heroic — for she reveals not perfection, but the courage of imperfection, the quiet bravery of one who refuses to live in falsehood even when speech feels impossible.

The origin of this quote emerges from Portia’s own path through the labyrinth of identity and fame. In a world that often demands conformity — especially from those under its harshest lights — she carried a truth that could cost her both career and peace. At a time when the world was far less welcoming to open expressions of queerness, she chose not to hide, but neither could she yet speak openly. Her honesty was not loud but steadfast: she would not deny who she was, even if she lacked the strength to proclaim it. And in that subtle defiance — the refusal to lie — there is a wisdom that echoes through the ages: sometimes, the first act of courage is simply not to betray oneself.

To “never deny” — this is where her power lies. For denial is the deepest wound one can inflict upon the soul. When we reject what is most authentic within us, we split ourselves in two: the self that is lived and the self that is lost. Portia understood this truth instinctively. Even in silence, she protected her essence. Though she did not yet have the courage to speak, she had the wisdom to preserve her integrity. The ancients, too, spoke of this inner harmony: the philosopher Socrates taught that to live against one’s conscience is to poison one’s spirit. Portia’s words are an echo of that ancient teaching — that to live truthfully, even in quietness, is the beginning of freedom.

History is filled with those who bore a similar struggle. Consider Eleanor Roosevelt, who for years lived under the shadow of expectation and societal duty. She, too, carried a private world that few understood, yet refused to deny her compassion, her intellect, and the parts of her identity that did not fit the molds of her time. She found ways to express herself through her actions, her writings, and her advocacy, until the world slowly grew to see the fullness of who she was. Like Portia, she lived in the tension between truth and fear, between silence and authenticity — and through that tension, both women found their own kind of victory.

Portia’s reflection also reveals an important wisdom about the journey of courage: it does not arrive all at once. It comes in steps, in tremors, in quiet awakenings. There are those who can stand before the world and declare their truth in thunderous words — and there are others whose strength lies in surviving the silence until the time is right to speak. Both paths are holy. For courage is not the absence of fear; it is the refusal to be mastered by it. Portia’s resolve not to deny herself laid the foundation for her eventual openness, and through that openness, she became a symbol of authenticity and love.

Her story also teaches us that truth, once acknowledged, ripples outward. When Portia finally spoke openly of her life and her love — especially her marriage to Ellen DeGeneres — she not only found personal peace but also gave courage to countless others. What began as an inward act of integrity blossomed into a public act of liberation. By embracing herself fully, she helped others to do the same. The “people who need to know” became not just those around her, but all who looked to her as proof that one can live honestly and still be whole, still be loved, still belong.

So, my child, take this teaching into your heart: never deny your truth, even if the world is not yet ready to hear it. Speak it when you can, hold it when you must, but guard it always as sacred. Let fear delay you if it must, but do not let it define you. Remember that courage grows in silence as well as in speech, and that integrity is the soul’s greatest shield.

And when the day comes — as it surely will — that your truth can stand in the sunlight without trembling, speak it not in anger but in joy. For in that moment, you will have conquered the oldest fear known to humankind: the fear of being oneself. Then, like Portia de Rossi, you will know that authenticity, however quietly it begins, always becomes its own song — one that others will hear, and follow, toward their own freedom.