Community Rainbow Waves

I’m 19 years old and I still don’t really know what I identify or should identify as. I know that I’m into girls but I’m not sure about “the boy part” yet.

I started to realize that I liked girls a very long time ago, around the age of 12 maybe. Looking back I had thousands of girl crushes from movies or series which now makes it very obvious. I remember the day, the thought of being a lesbian crossed my mind. It was awful to me. I remember thinking I would rather live unhappily forever than telling anyone about my real feelings. Today I feel ashamed that I thought like that but I was young and scared. Years passed by and I tried to push my feelings away, kind of like Dom did. It took me forever to finally accept who I am, even though I still don’t know who I am because I don’t know how to label myself (I know I don’t have to). I’ve been into girls but I never been in love with a guy. I only feel attracted to some guys. That’s what confuses me a lot . I turned 19 over a week ago and still never told anyone about my sexuality and its personal struggles as well as fears. I often feel anxious and ask myself when I’m finally ready to talk about it. I don’t have answers to this. This right here is the first time writing about it and it feels very relieving . And I feel empowered after reading Dom’s message. Im so happy for her that she can finally be her true self and I can’t wait for the day that I can say this ,too. Until then I’ll wait and I’ll keep supporting the LGBTQIA+ Community as an “ally”. In addition to this, I want to encourage everyone who seems to be in a similar situation like I am, to be patient with yourself. Your days will come and you will shine. Keep fighting .You are beautiful!

Jen

Well, I came out as a lesbian a few months ago, at 28. Looking back I can see how it was always there, but only recently I started being aware of it. I was always looking for signs, for something to happen to make me take that step. Like I would join a sport team, or wear flannel or convince my gay guy friend that we should go to a gay bar for him to meet guys. I guess I wanted someone to hold my hand and guide me across the “line”. But since this is real life and not a scripted b type movie, it never happened, and eventually I just kind of took a metaphorically deep breathe and jumped over myself. And now I’m here, still alone, but true to myself and my surrounding (who all took it very well.I live in a very open and liberal place so this was never a concern and I’m grateful for that) and finally I feel like I’m in the right direction to the life I’m meant live.
Thank you for this opportunity to share. I wish everyone happiness, joy, adventures and love- self love first and every other kind next.
Love,
Me

Bisexual

I realized that I’m bisexual thanks to a girl I met on a friend’s birthday when I was 15 years old. When I saw she I felt something different from what I knew and well we started talking and that made me happy and at first I didn’t know why but after a month I realized who I was. I felt in love with this girl and it was the first and only time that I fell in love. I knew that I felt in love with this girl the same they that my heart broke because I saw her kissing with another girl but thanks to her I knew who I was.

2nd generation Homo

I think I knew I was gay before I knew I was gay. To a lot of people that will make no sense and to so many others it will make perfect sense! I used to write on my diary about people I liked and make up boys names to use instead of the girls name, but still I didn’t reall realise i was gay. I have this clear memory of sitting with my friend when I was about 13 and telling her that when I imagine myself when I’m older and settled down, it is with a girl and my friend said cool so your gay then? And I remember being like what?! No, of coarse not…. It wasn’t until a few years later when I couldn’t stop thinking about my best friend at the time that it finally started to sink in, I think I might be gay. I came out when o was 15. When I told my friends they just sighed a breath of relief that I’d finally cottoned on. When I told my mum, who I was terrified to tell. She told me ‘ive known since you were 3 and wouldn’t wear a dress’ as soon as she said that I knew we would be fine. I mean it took a few years but we got there eventually. She may still say the odd comment here or there but she doesn’t mean to offend when that happens usually it’s just a lack of understanding and then we talk and it’s better. I came out when I was 15 and I’m now 31 so I have been out longer than I was in and I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be my age and only just being able to be your authentic self. My dad came out when he was 40 and I felt so much sorrow for him that he had to live so much of his life not being himself. He was always a bit of a grumpy man but that completely changed when he came out. He is 60 now and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him grumpy for even a minute on the last 20 years since he has been out. For anyone out there who is struggling with coming out, who is worried about what the people around them think. just remember you are part of a community, a community full of love and acceptance and we will always accept you. ‘the people who matter won’t mind and the people who mind don’t matter’

MJ — One label at a time

My coming out story isn’t much different than the next person, I suppose. It boils down to the fact that I grew up thinking that being a straight cis-woman was the only option. While I wanted a family, the idea of fulfilling the role of Suzy-homemaker never appealed to me. I didn’t want to be a brainless baby making machine. I wanted an education, a career, and a partnership. I didn’t want what my parents had and it made me sad thinking that I would never get what I wanted, simply because I didn’t think it existed.
Fast-forward a few years and I was a High School Junior with a best friend (I’ll call her L). A best friend, who I thought would stick with me through thick and thin for the rest of my life. Oh how I was wrong. Anywho, through a long series of events L took a chance one night and kissed me. She was more shocked by my lack of negative reaction than I was. I remember thinking “wait, that was it?” and wanting to try it again. And try again we did.
For a little bit of background, I grew up in a Mormon household where I was taught that homosexuality was a sin. I knew that I had an uncle who was gay but I also knew that my Grandma had disowned him back in the 80’s at the height of the AIDS epidemic. So what I knew at that point in my life was being gay was wrong and I’d definitely go to hell if I was gay. So I never said that I was. When friends started to figure out that L and I were dating, I would say “Oh, I’m not gay. I just like L” or “I’m only like 5% into girls, so not really gay”. I was wrong, but I thought I was in love so labels didn’t really matter to me.
As most High School relationships go, our relationship only lasted about 6 months before it was over. I was devastated as she moved on to college and I was left to navigate the rest of high school by myself, without a best friend or a girlfriend. In hindsight I don’t think my devastation was caused by the loss of a relationship but rather with the mountain of questions she left me with. Was I gay? Was it just her I loved? Am I going to hell? Will I ever find someone who loves me? It wasn’t just the usual post-breakup mountain of questions I had to deal with. I was also left questioning my identity. Who I was, down to the core. So what did I do? I tried to get “rid” of my gay feelings and dove head first back into the world of heterosexuality, which didn’t last for long.
I went to college in the very liberal, LGBTQ-friendly state of Massachusetts, where I told my first college roommate that I might be bisexual. I think I chose that label not because I couldn’t pick a side (obviously an incorrect stereotype), but because I never had even kissed a boy before so I felt like it was “safe” to identify as someone who could go either way. So I gave it the good old college try and dated several men during my four years at school. Through many hookups and short lived relationships I kept finding myself saying “Hm, I’m not into him, maybe it’ll be the next guy”. I was always left with an empty feeling in my chest and the thought that maybe I was broken. I couldn’t understand how so many of my peers were able to find a partner and find happiness with that person. Maybe it just wasn’t my destiny?
I never dated any women in college despite all of my friends encouraging me to try. It didn’t feel right to me, probably since my 4 year experiment of dating men wasn’t quite finished yet and a part of me didn’t want to potentially skew the results by adding the gender I knew I had a connection with into the mix. I do have respect for the scientific method after all. It wasn’t until a cold night in October, as I was about to have sex with yet another man who’s name I never bothered to remember, did I realize that this wasn’t for me. I’ll spare you all the graphic details that helped me come to this conclusion, but ultimately I left that guy’s house at 2 A.M., without my socks and the newfound realization that I am, without a doubt, gay. I finally felt free.
I told my friends the next day and I was met with overwhelming support. I waited several months to tell my mom and again, nothing but support. A few months later I told my extended family, and to my surprise once more, full support! I felt a profound sense of relief and also guilt. Why the guilt? Well, I knew I was one of the lucky people in the LGBTQ community and I was thankful for that, but I realized that I just spent the last 5 years of my life battling internalized homophobia. Could you imagine how utterly disgusted I felt with myself? I never had a problem with homosexual people so long as I wasn’t one of them. Here I was with complete support from my family and friends and I felt like a fraud. I felt awful for identifying as part of the LGBTQ family all while I had feelings that it was wrong. I blame a lot of my internalized homophobia on my Mormon upbringing, but I also knew it had something to do with the fact that I’m a perfectionist and wanted a life that was normal. I had a life plan to get a college education, get married in my early twenties, and have children before I was thirty. In my mind, being a lesbian totally derailed that plan and it made me angry. All I ever wanted to be was “normal” and it took me until I was 24-years-old to realize that being normal, is totally fucking overrated.
So, I had officially come out to my family at 22-years-old, but something still felt off to me. I was out, I had gotten over my internalized homophobia and guilt, AND I was actually dating women. What else was missing? I didn’t figure it out until my job had moved me out to Northern California, just outside of San Francisco, and until I had met my best friend. H is a beautiful straight blonde woman and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t totally have a crush on her. But life isn’t like some of the movies out there and as much as I’d wish she was secretly in the closet and would one day fall in love with me, I know it won’t happen. Oh well, I’m over it. Mostly. Anyway, what I love most about this woman is her confidence to be her authentic self. She doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks about her and does whatever she wants simply because it makes her happy. My mind was blown. Who actually lives life like that!? I certainly didn’t.
Eventually, after months of internal debates with myself, I decided to take a page out of her book. I was going to do something because I wanted to do it and I didn’t care about what anyone thought about it. I cut off my long brown hair. I went from having hair halfway down my back to using a buzzer. It was fucking liberating! It took a few haircuts to get the style that I wanted but once I did, damn I looked good. A few months later I went through my entire closet and donated all of my dresses, feminine shirts, and shoes. I started shopping almost exclusively in the men’s clothing department and even bought a custom tailored 3 piece suit. I went from a shy tomboy to a semi-confident soft-butch woman. I was starting to feel a little bit better about myself, but I still wasn’t quite there yet.
Shortly after my extreme makeover, something weird started to happen to me. I was getting misgendered. A lot. But something even weirder caught my attention. I didn’t mind getting misgendered and I never corrected anyone who referred to me with male pronouns. What the hell did this mean now!? I had just gotten comfortable with my sexuality and now I was questioning my gender identity. Was I ever going to find a label that I actually fit into? I felt full of questions again.
I wish I could say that I’ve figured it out, but I haven’t yet. Do I think I’m trans? No, probably not. Am I non-binary? Maybe? Androgynous? Possibly. Am I just a soft-butch lesbian woman who doesn’t give a fuck about labels and loves women? Could be. Will I ever figure it out, who knows? What I do know at this point in my life is that I don’t really care. I don’t care what gender people think I am. I don’t care if the woman who I will eventually fall in love with has a sexual past with partners of different genders. I don’t care what people think because I finally, FINALLY feel some sense of peace within myself. I don’t have all the answers and I don’t think I ever will, but I’m finally living my truth. I don’t hide who I am anymore and I do the things that make me happy. Some days I can’t believe that I spent 24 years of my life living in shame and other days I’m so happy that I’ve spent the last year of my life embracing myself. I know my journey isn’t complete and I know I have more things to discover about myself and my goodness, I can’t wait to see how this goes.
If this ever gets published, and it’s okay if it doesn’t because quite frankly this was cathartic for me to write, but if it does, I hope someone can identify with my story. I hope this helps someone else realize that we are all on our own journeys and there is not one specific timeline you have to follow. It took me 24 years to live my truth. It took my brother 17. It may take someone 5 years or another person 75 years. All that matters is that you are true to yourself. If labels make you happy, use them. If you don’t care for them, that’s okay too! There is no right or wrong way to be yourself so just do it. You’ll be amazed at just how brightly you can shine.

On my way, hoping to get there soon…

I guess I always knew way back when I was a kid, but I had no idea what it was and why I felt that way. I just wasn’t what was deemed “normal”. I started acknowledging it for myself as I was going through adolescence and all throughout college and then sort of embraced it after graduation. But to be honest, I still don’t feel safe or free – as I wish I could be – to declare my truth. To some I am able to tell them, while to most I keep quiet… either way, I am never without fear of being rejected or seen differently, like I become a different person from the one they’ve come to know as soon as I confirm what they probably already thought. I still fear that I will never be taken seriously professionally or deserving of the same respect as a person just because of who I am. I am still afraid but I am also hopeful that one day, I’d get there – where I am free to just be me and no longer afraid.

Cisgender Queer Lesbian (Indigo Moon)

Being queer is something I have always been. But before I discovered this gorgeous term, I just always said to myself, “I’m me, and that’s it”.

Before I knew I was gay, I didn’t know much about labels. Growing up, I never saw the benefits of placing myself into categories. It felt too forced as if I wasn’t given a choice in the matter.

Ever since I remember, I have always been drawn to women. When I was a child, I had no understanding of attraction but throughout these years, whenever I watched something on TV or socialised with others, it was other girls who I felt pulled towards.

Willow from Buffy, Root from Person of Interest to Rose from Doctor Who, I had multiple fangirl obsessions. But because of the society that we live in, heteronormativity dominated the classroom and playground.

All of the other girls appeared to only like boys whereas I only saw them as friends or even brothers. Amongst the confusion, I kept saying to myself, “well, I’m just me” and that’s okay. Yet I didn’t talk about my feelings to my family. I was too scared.

Skipping ahead to 2016, I was off to university and at this point, I knew more about the LGBTQ+ community and sexuality. But I still didn’t ask myself where I fit in the rainbow spectrum.

Looking back, I was in denial.

I kept remembering moments where I had friends who were boys. When they said they wanted to be my boyfriend, I knew in my gut that I never wanted it to happen. But then I thought, it might just be these boys you don’t like, you might like others

So as I got older, I remembered men that I had met at social gatherings and went through the same process. I tried to picture myself being intimate with them. It felt so wrong. But when I imagined the same scenario with another woman, I felt immense joy and happiness bubble up inside me. It felt so right and so beautiful.

Over time and with the help of some of my favourite fictional queer characters (thank you Willow Rosenberg and Alex Danvers), I felt ready to come out.

The first person I told was my amazing sister. I knew she wouldn’t have any difficulty accepting this part of me because she, in fact, already knew.

Apparently, I suck at keeping my queerness hidden. Which I am really proud of. Maybe even my younger self knew I didn’t need to be afraid.

So far, so good, my sister was supportive as any sibling could be. Next, were my friends but this felt more casual. There was no big announcement. When the right moment came along, I just said, “I only like women” or “Yep, I’m a lesbian”. Thankfully, I have wonderfully loving friends and some are also queer.

The two people I was felt most nervous to tell was my mum and grandma. We aren’t a religious family but they have made comments about queer folk in the past that has made me uncomfortable.

Regardless of my trepidation and fear, I knew I had to embrace my authenticity and start living for myself. So I sent my Mum a text. She said she didn’t know I was attracted to other women but that it didn’t matter. She didn’t love me any differently.

And my Nan, well, I never actually said to her, “I’m gay”. When I told her I had someone and her name was Sophie, she didn’t even bat an eyelid, she just carried on with her day. I love that response because that’s how I believe it should be. Being queer needs to be normalised in society. Why should we have to announce, “This is me, I am coming out.. as myself”.

It feels wrong to me that we should even have to reveal or announce our sexual or gender identity. I want to live in a world where people don’t fear difference but embrace and cherish it. Where we can be accepted and loved.

Since I came out, my life has been transformed and I fully accept that being queer is one of the most beautiful parts of myself. I am living authentically, with grace, gratitude, joy, compassion and empathy.

I believe when we live authentically, the Earth falls into balance and we become ONE with every being in the universe.

Alya

I knew I was gay when I was in 5th/6th grade. A year later I came out to my best friend, the same month I got in to psychiatry because of depression. There they forced me to come out to my mother because “it would help me”, she just said its just a phase and she didn’t believe me, while I sat next to her crying. 2018 I was on my first CSD and my stepsister picked me up. As she saw me she was like “oh but you’re not one of them, right?” and I just started giggling. Thats how I came out to her. 3 Months later my stepsis, stepmom an my dad sit in our garden and my sis told them I wanted to tell them something, which I definitely didn’t because I wasn’t ready yet, I was the whole time like “no I don’t” so my stepmom starts to ask “did you smoke” “hell no” I replied, “did you got a tattoo?” “no” are you a lesbian?” and I instantly started to cry. Thats how I came out to my Papa. One and a half year later on new years eve 2019/2020 I came out to my mom(again) my stepdad, my foster mom and dad, friends of them. Now I am OUT AND PROUD 🙂

I guess I’m a lesbian but I usually just use the term gay

I really should have figured my attraction to girls sooner. As early as I could remember I grew up wishing I was gay, funny enough. I was upset because I found girls so incredible and amazing and I wished I was attracted to them instead. (I was lol) I’d say it finally clicked when I watched glee. For the first time in my life I felt like I understood my own feelings. Santana’s storyline made me realize I’d loved girls all along I’d just been pushing it down unintentionally. I was so happy to finally feel seen. Representation matters, and I’m so glad Earpers can have a similar experience with the incredible representation on this show.

I’m an out and proud butch lesbian

I could, and regularly do, tell the story of coming out as a lesbian in the age of Section 28. I tell it because, mostly, it’s relatable, and it’s got some funny bits, and has very clearly defined parameters that say “This was the moment I was not out; this was the moment I was out.”

I’m not going to do that; instead, I want to tell you about what was, for me, a much tougher journey, one which took a lot longer and a lot more questioning, a journey which is no where close to being finished. I want to tell you about being butch.

It isn’t a popular word, nowadays, even in the LGBTQ+ community. But it’s an identity that helped me verbalise my own gender when I didn’t know how to, and gave me the comfort that I wasn’t the only woman trying to find her way through the world when the trappings of femininity felt increasingly like a cage.

I had always been a tomboy, more interested in climbing trees and getting muddy than in playing dress up and dolls (the barbie dolls my mum bought me spent more time rescuing each other from hideous fairytale monsters than they ever did swooning over Ken). Which is fine, when you’re young. It gets less fine as you get into adolescence, when the expectations of society become more restrictive, and the struggle to fit in, to be normal, comes to the forefront. I was a shy kid, bullied because my family were working class in a middle class neighbourhood, and my parents were catholic and somewhat strict; the thought of standing out any more than that made my stomach churn. So I wore the skirts, rolled shorter at the end of the road so our mothers wouldn’t see, and applied the colourful eye shadows which we’d be marched to wash off after first period, and I felt like I would never be happy again.

Skip forwards 8 years, and I was living away from home for the first time, in a foreign country, with no one to define me but myself. It was an opportunity, not just for learning, but for becoming. I found myself around people who wouldn’t bat an eyelid when I cut my hair short, or tentatively started adding “men’s” clothes to my wardrobe. It gave me freedom to experiment with my name and my pronouns, and start to uncover the layers of my attachment to womanhood that I had long since hidden in shame. I still felt anxious about it; there were still confusions and unkindnesses as a result of my outward appearance, but more clearly than any of those, I remember standing in front of the mirror with my waist length hair shorn for the first time, the strands lying around my feet, and crying because I finally felt like I was looking at myself.

It took another 5 years for me to exclusively start wearing “men’s” clothes, to stop disguising my mannerisms to appeal to the wider society who still demand performance of culturally mandated gender roles. It helped that I had found, online and offline, a community of women like me who enabled me to map out the words I needed to explain this huge part of my identity, and a woman who made me believe I was ‘handsome’ – not ‘pretty’ and certainly not ‘strange’. It took two thirds of my life and that unwavering support to fully accept myself as a woman, a lesbian, and a butch, and I’m still learning.

No, butch isn’t a popular word, nowadays. For the wider world it carries too many of the negative connotations attached to it by the narrow feminism of the 1970’s, but for me, it’s the key descriptor for who I am. I found an affinity with it, and it helped me – is helping me – on my journey as I dig deeper into what that means. It’s true that labels are just words. They’re just words we use to verbalise who we are, and our feelings towards them are based on our own personal experiences as we travel through life, constantly evolving or cementing as we ourselves grow. To the world at large, I’d ask you one thing: be gentle with other people’s labels, and the words they choose or do not choose to give their identity form. Invalidating them is a form of invalidation for the many roads they travelled to find them.

And to the masculine of centre women – the gender nonconforming women – the women getting called out in the ladies’ loos and receiving the side eyes as they pick up their groceries – stay strong. Stand tall. Keep on holding your own. And hold onto your swaggers – we’ve earned it.

Zo, Birmingham UK