Community Rainbow Waves

Power in knowledge

I’m 17, and I don’t know myself. Or at least I don’t think I want to know myself. As a child, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to because I didn’t have any siblings (other than a dog). I turned to the media, video games, and fictional characters from TV shows and movies to feel a connection to someone or something. Man, I would sit in front of the TV as a kid and watch these shows where I saw these beautiful people and I would always imagine myself pretending that I was their friend. And as I got older, the same thing happened where I continued enjoying characters. But then around my older teenage years, I realized that maybe it wasn’t an “obsession” with the characters, it was that I really liked them. And I was confused because no one had ever really mentioned this feeling to me, but in my mind, it just made sense. And I’m a relatively athletic person, so I got the whole “tomboy” thing as a kid, so people probably chalked it up to that. But I didn’t. Because, as of recently, I figured out who I was. And while only select people know, it’s cool to like the best of both worlds. Like God must have invented males and females for everyone’s enjoyment, so why not enjoy them both? And I’m lucky to be able to say my parents would be accepting of me, but in a way, I feel like they know, so I have avoided making it a “thing,” because why should they focus on a part of me that’s just who I am? There is no reason. And thanks to many TV shows, like Wynonna Earp and their amazing characters and cast, and movies, and just people in general, they have helped me with who I am.

Odaatlover

This story will include a lot of binary-ness in order to properly convey my thoughts and feelings, since that’s how I saw the world for most of my life.

It was sometime around 7th grade when I began to realize that I liked girls. Of course, there were signs way before then – always wanting to be the “man” when playing house, always using the pronouns “she/her” when making up love songs, constantly removing the clothes from my sister’s Barbie dolls…and this all happened when I was in the single digits. But around 12 years old was when I became curious about other girls in a way that – looking back now – was more than just friendly. I liked boys, they made good friends since I had more in common with them than with other girls, but something about girls was more alluring to me. I had a curiosity for them that was indescribable. Of course, now that I’m an adult, I know exactly how to describe it…GAY AF.

There was this one girl that I found really attractive…we’ll call her Anne, for the sake of anonymity. Anne was in my class in 7th grade, and I found myself looking at her (AKA, checking her out) quite often. In 8th grade, Anne was in the same P.E. class as me. When changing out in the locker rooms, I always chose the locker close to hers. At the time, I thought it was because I just liked that particular locker…NOPE. Turns out it was just because I liked that particular Anne. I would steal glances at her body, which I’m a little embarrassed to admit now because it seems very stalkerish, but if you’re not creepily stalking your crush at 13 years old, are you really even 13 years old? See, I had no idea it was possible to even be attracted to girls like that, because my parents did an excellent job of shielding me from the “gay lifestyle” (nice try, ‘rents). So, I didn’t think anything of it. I just assumed that I was obsessed with her because I wanted to be her, not because I was attracted to her or anything. So I proceeded to carry out the rest of my middle school career with the carefree mindset that I was just like everyone else my age. Ah, the serenity.

Then I went to high school…and 9th grade was a game changer for me. I found out that, plot twist, you actually can be gay! (insert well-known Home Alone Macaulay Culkin picture here)

I started to notice myself paying more attention to (eye humping) girls around me, and I began to question my sexuality. Do I like girls? Am I gay? I like boys too though, right? I mean, I must, because obviously in every single movie and TV show I’ve ever seen, girls like boys…I’m probably bisexual. Yep, that’s it. I’m bisexual. Mystery solved!

…that lasted all of three days after making the dreadful mistake of looking at porn sites with naked men on our home computer while my parents were out of the house. *shudders*

Nope. Definitely not bisexual. I only like girls. 100%.

But then, a thought occurred to me…”can I really say that if I’ve never had a boyfriend before? I don’t think I can…I need a boyfriend!”

A couple months later, after daily bartering and promises to a god that I didn’t believe in that I would do my chores every day in exchange for a boyfriend (as if god somehow cared that my room was kept clean and the dishwasher was emptied regularly), a miracle happened…the very awkward boy in my P.E. class that I had never spoken more than two words to passed me a note that said, verbatim, “I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?” And of course, I said ‘yes’. I was beyond excited…until the next day, when the initial excitement of the thought of having a boyfriend had worn off, and I realized that this guy was my boyfriend. Before, I was only thinking about the label ‘boyfriend’, not about what the job actually entailed. I took one look at him and had this sinking feeling in my stomach that something wasn’t right. I had a boyfriend…not a girlfriend, a boyfriend. I had to hold this guy’s bulky hand, and hang out with him outside of school, and converse with him while he looked at me like I was special, and kiss him. And none of that sounded appealing to me. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last very long. And honestly, I’m not even sure if I can call it a relationship since we never held hands, never kissed, and never spoke outside of that P.E. class. In fact, I barely even spoke to him *during* P.E. class. I avoided that boy like the plague, and the only thing that dictated that we were even together was the fact that I had changed my status on Myspace to “in a relationship”. I mean, I had a better connection with my dog – who was a female, ironically.

It wasn’t until I was 15 and nearing the end of 10th grade that I had finally told one of my friends that I liked girls. She was one of those friends that I was kind of close to, but not super close to. I specifically chose her because I knew she would be okay with it, but just in case she wasn’t, I wouldn’t be super heartbroken about losing her as a friend. I texted her (of course) that there was this girl that I liked – not Anne, someone completely different, because teens move fast – and she was super cool with it!

A couple of months later at band camp, I was eating lunch in the dining hall with the guys on the drum line with me, and an attractive girl from another camp walked by, and one of the guys said, “Whoa, that girl is hot!” The rest of the guys at the table verbally agreed, and I naturally nodded my head in silence. He noticed, and with a surprised look asked me, “You think she’s hot?” I paused, doing the whole internal dialogue of do I lie or do I use this moment to come out? I chose the latter, and nodded my head. With an even more surprised look, he asked, “Are you gay?” I nodded my head again. The guys at the table looked around at each other and basically said, “Oh, cool.” Some were surprised, some were not so surprised, but nobody said anything negative. By the end of band camp, pretty much the entire band knew, and I was out!

After that, I decided to change my newly created Facebook profile to say “interested in women”. I set it to where only my friends at school could see, since they already knew, and it felt really freeing.

…turns out it was set to public, and my mom saw it. This was a couple of months after band camp. It was a September day, and she was driving me home from a lesson I had with my percussion teacher. With a small laugh she asked, “Why does your Facebook profile say that you’re interested in women?” She obviously thought that it was a mistake – and a very amusing one at that – and I did the internal dialogue thing again. Am I ready? Do I take the opportunity and just run with it? There’s never going to be a good time, and everyone at school already knows. Might as well just get it over with now. With a very small voice, I said, “Because I am.” She stopped laughing, and the car got really quiet. The amused smile was wiped from her face, and was replaced by a look of something that resembled a mix of pain, disappointment, and confusion. I had never been more terrified in my entire life than I was in that moment.

You see, I come from a very religious, very conservative family. So, to say that she wasn’t okay with it was an understatement. (Author’s note: What the FUCK was I thinking??)

She was quiet the rest of the ten-minute drive home with a frown plastered on her face, obviously trying to figure out what to say to her ‘confused’ daughter, since she had been completely blindsided. And I just sat there looking ahead at the road, trembling with sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat, realizing that I had just made a terrible mistake. I wanted so badly to go back inside my comfortable little closet, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

When we got home, she forced me to tell my dad. My dad has the same personality as me – witty, unassertive, avoids confrontation, wouldn’t hurt a fly, nerdy. Growing up, my mom was the ‘scary’ parent. I wasn’t afraid of what my dad would say in response, because he’s a very calm man, unlike my mom. Not that she’s a man, but she’s not the chillest cube in the tray if you get what I mean.

But as soon as she said I had to tell him, I began to freak out, because it meant that I would have to come out again. Having to unexpectedly come out like that two times in a span of 15 minutes is a lot for a young 16-year-old. Not only that, but I had never actually said the words “I’m gay” or “I like girls” out loud to someone before. I told my friend through text, I nodded my head at band camp, and the only words I had said to my mom were “because I do.” In order to tell my dad, I was going to have to actually tell him that I was gay, which terrified me more than anything in my entire life. I wasn’t ready for that, and yet I was being forced into doing so.

I walked up to my parents’ bedroom where he was lying in bed reading a book, with my mom following closely behind me. She told him that I had something to tell him, and he got up and just looked at me with confusion. I stood there, frozen, unable to get the words out. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“Go ahead, tell him what you told me.” My mom said as she waited impatiently with her arms folded sternly across her chest. I instantly broke down and started crying, and my dad just hugged me. I finally was able to choke out the words “I like girls” through my sobs, and my dad just audibly swallowed in response and proceeded to hug me tighter.

The rest of that day is a bit of a blur, considering that was over 11 years ago, but basically once I had calmed down, my parents told me it wasn’t right. That I was confused, that marriage is between a man and a woman, that two women can’t even have sex together because their “parts don’t fit” (lol…I wish I had drawn them a diagram), blah blah blah. After that, my mom would sit down with me every night and we’d do ‘bible study’ together. This was on top of the Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night church services I had already been forced to attend since I was born. I was never a religious person, and even as a little kid I hated going to church, so you can imagine how awful it was having to read a book I didn’t believe in every single night with my homophobic mother, basically hating myself. This lasted pretty much until I graduated and left for college, two years later.

I never officially came out to my older sister. My parents told her, and she and I never really talked about it because I was too afraid that she would treat me the same way as my mom, but she was respectful. Everyone at school was supportive though. Nobody in my life had a problem with it except for my parents, so I began to gravitate towards my friends and away from my family.

In 12th grade, I had this friend that I was getting really close to. I worked up the courage to tell her that I liked her, and it didn’t go as well as planned. She blocked me on Facebook and never spoke to me again. Whenever she saw me in the hallways at school, she would move to the opposite side and avoid eye contact. That was a bit difficult to get through, seeing as it was the first time I ever told a girl that I liked her. But a few months later I got my first girlfriend, so it was okay. I didn’t need that girl anyways. *holds up ’90s ‘talk to the hand’ gesture* Oh, and I was with my first girlfriend for almost a year and a half (with the first year being long distance), but we weren’t compatible. Honestly, we were both tops, and even more honestly, I would’ve said yes to any girl at that point. But she was cool, and we still talk from time to time. So it’s all good.

When I got to college, I wasn’t shy about my sexual orientation. I got my degree in music education, and the majority of the guys at the music school were gay, so I knew it was a safe space. Nobody had a problem with it, and I was actually pretty popular and had a lot of friends. There were a lot of gay guys, but I was pretty much the only gay female, which made me pretty well-known. So, college life was great! Whenever I would have to go home for breaks, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to go back to that house. I didn’t want to go back to my parents. I wanted to stay in my safe little world with my supportive friends where I could make my own decisions, be who I truly was without feeling ashamed or embarrassed, and wasn’t forced to go to church. My college was only two hours away from ‘home’, but thankfully it was just far enough that I didn’t have to go back often.

Skip to 2020 (two bad relationships later), and both of my parents are still unsupportive. But at least they don’t say anything when I bring my wife to family get-togethers. They’re polite. My sister LOVES my wife, and we often hang out with my sister and her husband. Even though religion is very important to her, she’s way more open-minded than my parents, and is accepting of my sexuality and recognizes my marriage as one that’s equal to hers. After I came out to my parents, I kind of lost that relationship I had with them. I’m not super close with them, since they never truly made me feel loved and accepted. They supported me in every other aspect of my life, but couldn’t fully embrace who I was, since they don’t believe that my sexuality is real but rather just a sin and a man-made thought put into my head by modern society.

I currently only live 30 minutes away from my parents, but only visit them for special occasions. I don’t have the best relationship with my parents, but honestly, at this age I am 100% okay with that. I don&##8217;t rely on them for anything anymore, and I have an amazing wife, wonderful friends who I consider my family, and a supportive sister. I don’t need my parents to accept me in order to feel validated about who I am, and that’s okay.

So, if you’re a young person who is currently in the closet or who has come out and is having an awful experience with it, just know that it truly does get better. I know everyone says that, and it’s probably difficult to believe at this point in your life, but it really is true. I promise.

And if you’re a parent whose kid is struggling with their own gender or sexuality, then my advice to you is to be supportive. Tell them that you love them. And tell them that you support them, even if you don’t. The last thing you want to do is make them feel like who they are is invalid or wrong, because you will lose them. Even if you’re there for them through everything else, if you can’t get on board with something that is an integral part of their very being, then you will lose them.

Thank you for reading my story, and I hope this helps someone out there

Elizabent91

I was at my Year 7 (middle school) camp when i first noticed that the 3 girls in my cabin were all talking about how hot Tom Felton was. I couldnt care less. I had a few guys that i liked in my early teens, but as soon as i imagined anything phisical happening i would notice again and again that i didnt like the thought. I reached the end of Year 11 (Junior year) and the Teacher for our Communities and Families subject asked us to pick any topic that we had covered that year and do a case study on it. The topic i chose was the only topic i knew little about, a marginalised group in society called Gay and Lesbian (or LGBT). It was only a concept to me, all i knew was that it ment that people of that label had a sexual attraction to the same sex. I knew of a couple of token characters and personalities in the media but nothing significant and certainly no one in my own life. It crept up on me over the course of a couple of months. Luckily my mother didnt care, my 14 year old brother said “so what?” My dad told me he has been friends with the lead of a lesbian band here in Sydney for many years. None of my immidiate friends and family really cared and accepted me fully. Why was it that while i became interested in dating and a relationship at 12, it took me 5 years to fully realise why i wasnt interested in guys? It was because i had very little representation or exposure in the media (heteronormativity)
and in life to different sexualities and genders. The queer characters i had after coming out were nothing like me. Jack from Dawsons Creek, The L Word and Willow and Tara from Buffy. This is my coming out story. I turn 30 in a few months and only now feel like i am represented in the media. Dominique’s work as Waverly Earp and with Start the Wave makes me feel seen. I finally have a place to belong. “To be me.”

Good Afternoon from the tip of South Africa, Cape Town

My name is Melissa. I am a 36-year-old woman and have always been lesbian. My story is slightly different to many of the stories I’ve read on this site and would like to represent the LGBTQ stories that closely represent mine; my reason – I have not yet come across a story reflecting my journey.

My sexual orientation was very clear to me at the age of 5. It wasn’t a case of ‘i knew’, in fact, I had no idea that homosexuality was a term nor that it was deemed unacceptable in many worldly societies. I was simply being me. It was perhaps later when a fellow classmate mouthed a question to me; “What, are you lesbian?” that I realised, ah! people aren’t okay with this. It was not about the words she used but the tone and body language she used to express her disdain. I never hid my sexual orientation; I was far too confident of that. I was so confident that I had prepared myself mentally that when the day came that, I would inform my family and friends, I was ready to leave them behind because I was not willing to sacrifice a part of me for the sake of protecting the dignity and pride of others. At 16, I came out. At 18 I came out to the entire high school and not one person cared that I had nor were phased by the big step; I like to believe it is because I was confident and so in touch with myself that I would not allow the world to convince me that being me was actually wrong. Perhaps they felt that energy, perhaps they respected it or perhaps they really just didn’t care that I am attracted to women – I’ll never know. What I did learn was, always choose you first and support that strongly; there is only one you and for those that do not serve you well, walk away. Speak about your sexual orientation with normality; we attract what we reflect about ourselves to others – everything in life is a mirror.

Small Town Girl From Kansas!

I knew I was different than my family. I had boyfriends in the past but it never last. I knew I was attractive to both men & women, I don’t label myself because it doesn’t matter about the gender. It just matter about the person. I only told a few of my close friends. And I am not out of the closet yet. My family won’t understand. And I can’t really tell them but I know my family would probably disown me. It’s kind of scary to go through this alone. I been through stuff in the past that I haven’t really got over. It’s hard to move on or overcome when you been rape in the past by two different men. I didn’t get therapy for it. It’s something that changes me even more. I am attractive to men & women but more of women. And I haven’t even been with a girl before, I don’t even know what it’s like kissing a girl. I want my story to be heard!! ~M

A girl named Emily

I’ll call myself Emily. That’s not my real name, but that’s what my high school English teacher called me. By hiding my name I do not intend to hide myself. This is my story..

High school seems to be a good place to start. I was always the sporty girl who got along with everyone and who actually liked school. I had a lot of friends and my home life was good. I was always boy crazy, but sports came first. My sophomore year is when it happened first. No not the first lesbian experience, you’ll have to keep reading for that one! The first time I fell in love. He was a skater boy, and he had me. It was a typical first love— wild, free, electrifying. The first time I felt life was bigger than big. We of course had our ups and downs. But man did we love each other. That’s the first time I learned I could care so much for another person. We dated for four years. Which takes us to my sophomore year in college. I was in a sorority, played soccer and still was obsessed with school. I loved everything about being free and learning. Putting myself in uncharted waters gave me self growth. So naturally I traveled a lot. Little did I know I knew NOTHING about self growth. That would come in a few years. I dated around my sophomore and junior year. Nothing too serious. I had just spent four years with some so I wanted to live a little. The guys at my college were so damn handsome and cool. Getting invited to date parties or a long weekend at the lake was great. College did not disappoint. By my senior year I decided to study abroad, because why not? I went to Ireland and had a blast. So much of a blast that it happened again. Love. This one hit me hard too. Irishmen certainly have a way with words. This love was different though. It was mature. I felt safe with him in every way a woman could feel safe: emotionally, financially, physically. He was it. So like any responsible college graduate would do, I bought a one way ticket to Ireland two weeks after graduation. Over the next three years I would continue to fall in love with this man. We’d spend a few weeks every year in America and he fit right in. He bought a ring and asked permission from my parents. I was certain this was it for me. But something happened. He and I grew apart and I was unhappy. I ended up breaking things off and it hurt. Like, really hurt. This man loved me to my bones! And he was a good person. His family became my family. His sisters were mine. I actually spend a week or two with his family every year. He made a joke once to me, “You better not leave me for a girl. That’s what my ex did.” Whoops.

I packed up and moved back to America. Landed an awesome job in a city I had never visited. I thought, hey I can do this. People like me and I’m outgoing. I’ll make friends in no time. Luckily, I did make friends fast. Little did I know these strangers I’d only known for a few months would become my back bone. My pack. They’d celebrate with me, tell me to suck it the fuck up when I was down, and cry with me in the pouring rain behind a dumpster. Anyways, back to the real story. Up to this point, I’d only ever had an eye for guys. I longed for a husband and children. Part of me still does. This is where things get real.

Most of my friends in this new city were gay. I had okayed sports my whole life so it was nothing new to me. At my first pride I met someone. I had actually met her a few weeks ago at a bar but she was too drunk to remember. She walked right up me, wallaby legs and beer in hand and asked if I was married. I told her no, and she just smiled and walked away. The same girl stood before me at pride introducing herself for the first time, again. We were inseparable. At this point I was still denying to anyone that her and I were more than friends, but they didn’t buy it. Within two shorts months it happened again. Love. Remember when I said I thought traveling helped me in self growth? Okay falling in love for the first time with a women is SELF GROWTH. Holy shit. Knocked me sideways. I couldn’t think straight (ha, pun). Her and I were in an off for 3-4 years. I learned a lot about myself and how I was to live my life. Like most of us, ‘coming out’ was unthinkable at first. And I’m not sure I’m fully ‘out’ but this story is still being written. I learned accepting yourself isn’t about fitting it; it’s not becoming what you thought you would be; and it’s certainly not about making anyone proud other than yourself. When you can look in the mirror every morning and say “Life is good. I am good. Let’s make it better today”. That’s self growth for me.
Without my friends here who take me for who I am, I’d probably be in a relationship with a guy having ridiculously lousy sex. And les-be-honest, life is too short to have bad sex. So this is my story, for now. I seek love in all relationships: Love in friendships and love in romantic-ships. I made up that word but I think it should become a thing. I am accepting that I can love and be loved by women and it’s pretty sweet. Maybe I’ll date guys again, maybe I won’t. Love has no gender and certainly isn’t on a set schedule. I am open to myself and am optimistic about the best time IT happens.

Keep shining and know that you are beautiful xx

A Lesbian. Happy to love this world without judgement, full of kindness and unconditional love. Can’t forget the jokes that come with it too

When I graduated high school. I found a girl that made me look at this world differently. She gave me what no other guy would and that’s hope. Hope to believe in loving someone for who they are. It was like a blindfold was taken off my eyes to see the beautiful colors this world had to offer. I had never felt the butterflies in my stomach before or the fireworks when we kissed. It was like I found my sense of peace with every kiss, every touch, every breath. My life started to make sense. My best friend at the time was the first to know and she gave me the support I needed. My mom was suspicious at the time and brought me out to eat lunch one day to muster up the courage to ask “are you dating ‘that’ girl?” My heart dropped… I couldn’t believe those words, I never in a million years would have suspected that my own mother, being the traditionalist she is, to say those words. I just stared in shock and she said “just tell me the truth, yes or no?” My next response was “well kind of”, I couldn’t come up with the courage to say “yes, that is my girlfriend” because of how I was raised. I always remember a time when I was little that we passed a same sex couple and she said “look away, I can’t believe they go out in public.” That’s the scene that always kept replaying in my mind when I saw a girl pass by me and telling myself “you can’t like girls”. She sat me at that restaurant telling me “that girl changed you, if you would have never met her you would still be normal.” To this day I still believe my story was easy compared to most. I’ve heard other people’s story that make me give thanks I had the support I was blessed with. After that day it was like a ripple effect. All my cousins called or texted me with almost the same phrase, “we already knew.” I felt like I was kicked out of the closet at that point because I never got to tell anyone, it was always “we already knew and we love you and support you.” To my relief I was happy I didn’t have to tell anyone, but I still to this day fear telling anyone I’m lesbian. (So my relief backfired big time) My father was the one who didn’t take it so well because he stopped talking to me for three years just to process and take a lot of hate out of his heart. Before me getting pushed out the closet, he would pass a gay couple and yell at them for holding hands or being close to each other. So you can imagine afterwards, he was speechless that his only daughter was a lesbian and wasn’t going to procreate with a man and have children with the white picket fence. My parents were recently divorced at the time and to hear both of them finally agree on making me go to therapy to make me “normal”, broke me down. I haven’t ever been a crier because I have always been an emotional rock for my mom and that day I’m pretty sure I could have filled a swimming pool with my tears. I kept repeating “I don’t know what’s happening but when I’m with her I feel relieved, like I’m whole and I love her.” The look on their faces was just disbelief, never have they seen me cry and be so passionate about someone I loved. I remember we all left quietly because they were speechless. After seven years, I can now say my parents love me and accept me for who I am. We can have conversations about my sexuality (even though the explicit ones are kind of uncomfortable and I try to avoid them) and they are more at peace with it. I can finally express myself through my clothing and I wear my suits proudly. I tried the whole short hair thing and I think long hair is a sexier option for me. Now I speak to everyone and just listen to their opinions whether they be for the community or against us and instead of argue with them, I show them what the truth of it all is by just being myself. So when I do get the courage to tell them I’m lesbian they step back and say “huh, that’s not what I expected” and understand that we’re all human. Doesn’t matter who you love, you are human first of all and that’s all that matters. So live like no one cares, love like no ones watching and laugh as much as possible (p.s. you get years back every time you do so laugh back the years you’ve lost in the closet.) I feel like I wrote you guys a novel but it’s from the bottom of my heart. I hope this story can give at least one person a smile and that this community can help you find your light. Have an awesome day and may you live every day with love and kindness. Thanks for reading my story. See ya

I am Chelsey. I am a girl, a lover, a fighter, a wife and I am bisexual!

My story starts when I was young, about the age of 10, though I did not realize until more recently, and I am approaching my 26th birthday. When I was younger I had a bit of a struggle with my gender identity. I was a “tom-boy” and between the ages of eight to thirteen, I refused to wear clothes from the girls section, in favor of baggy “boy” clothing, and wearing short hair. I just felt more comfortable that way, but if anyone mistook me for actually being a boy, I got angry, and couldn’t understand why it was so hard for people to get that girls can like boy things too! To be fair, I did look like a boy so I didn’t have much of a right to be upset, and now I look back on those years and laugh a little. It was also around this time that I found myself becoming more and more infatuated with female icons or characters in movies and T.V. Moulin Rouge was my all time favorite movie at age 12, but instead of being obsessed with Ewan McGregor, I was in love with Nicole Kidman. I thought nothing of it besides admiring a great artist, who just so happens to be gorgeous, I didn’t think anything of this behavior, but my uncle, who lived with my mom and I at this time, and who is gay as well, clocked this behavior and starting making comments about being gay or a lesbian, and poking fun at me about it. This of course made me furious because, for one, his words rang true to me, but I am suborn and would not stand for someone else telling me what I was, or who I liked. And two, because I would get flustered and confused and thought that there was no way he could be right about me. That wasn’t what society said was right, and surely a whole group of people would be right and he, as one man alone, must be wrong. So I did what many many people do, about all conflicting and scary feelings, and I buried them away, deep down so that I wouldn’t have to confront them myself, or give anyone else to opportunity to tell me what my sexuality was again. Besides, my family already had a gay member, there couldn’t be more than one to a family, right? Isn’t that how it works??

When I reached puberty, I started to feel much more comfortable wearing more feminine clothing and became a lot more comfortable in my own skin, which as I’m writing this, I realize that is a little ironic because puberty is when most people feel the exact opposite… non-the-less, I was feeling more like “myself” despite having an occasional moment or feeling of attraction to my friends, the female friends. I told myself that those feelings were just there because we were so close and such good friends, and like in all relationships, it was normal to feel a little jealous when you had to start sharing your time among other friends or an occasional boyfriend. Except, I wasn’t feeling jealous of their time being spent with others, I was jealous of the boy holding my best friends hand, or talking all night with her on the phone, and getting to hear her profess her love for him. And when they would inevitably break up, I would feel a little bit relieved, and all too happy to through my arms around her in support and wipe her tears. But again, for years, I would lie to myself by saying that I was acting as any friend would, and that there was nothing more to it because there couldn’t be.

So, I fell in love with men out in public, and women in my mind. And for many years, I was content with this being my reality. I met an incredible man to whom I am now married and it has been with him and the security of our relationship, that I was finally able to start letting my feelings and attractions to women come to the surface to explore. There is a small part of me that wishes I had come to that point much sooner, and before we were married, especially given that I was quite young when we did so, and at twenty-two years old, there is so much life left to live and years to spend figuring out things like sexuality and love and attraction. But we were firm in our decision to marry and it was the best decision I’ve made.

I am not a particularly spiritual person, but I have truly been blessed with finding my husband who loves me for exactly who I am, and for being there to listen to my ramblings and vocal realizations about being bisexual. He created a safe place for me to talk about my feelings, when I had not created one for myself, and for that I am very thankful. Eventually I felt more comfortable talking to friends about my realization, and my sisters who are nothing but amazing and supportive, and honestly didn’t have much of a reaction to my confession, besides making it seem like there was absolutely nothing different about me to them. And I mean that in the very best way. I was still the same “Chelsey” that they grew up with, I was still me, only with a very big realization, which to be honest, some of them knew before I did. I became more and more comfortable with this as my new truth over the last four years that this discovery process lasted, but through all of it I was certain that I would never be comfortable telling my mother. I didn’t think that she would be angry or upset about it, I just didn’t want her to make some kind of snarky comment or mention the fact that I’m married to a man and the obvious complexities of sexuality and marriage. These were issues I had been navigating, quite gracefully with my husband for years and I wasn’t yet ready for her input.

Now I find myself in a strange position, along with the rest of the world, where I have not left my house for anything other than walking the dog and taking out the trash for twenty-one days. During my time of self-quarantine, I have been finding ways to stay creative. I am a writer and a photographer, which are mediums I have used quite frequently to express myself and other issues dear to my heart, but the topics of sexuality, lgbtq, gender norms and freedom have been taking up more space than anything else in my mind. I have written poetry and done a couple photo shoots with myself eluding to my sexuality, to use as my own full coming out to my mother. I don’t exactly know what shifted in my mind or in my heart about it, but I have come to a place where I would just so much rather be completely out and free to express and talk about who I am with everyone in my life. So when my mother asked to read my poem, as she is my biggest fan and I love her dearly for that, I sent it to her happily and without reservation or fear. It is as follows:

In all the land of milk and honey,
when all the land was warm and sunny
there stood a girl, and in her eye
she saw the long day pass her by.
She stood and stared, then sat to cry
for there was none to hold her high.

She had in mind the arms that would,
forbidden as they were.
For in those arms her heart did lie
though there was one thing more.
Their lives had parted long before,
still, longing filled her soul,
to hold the one for whom she’d die,
great love must come with a tole.

Devoted she was to someone new,
though torn, her mind had split in two.
With one for him and one for her,
but in the end with what to do,
she knew not who to choose.
For if she did, the choice she’d make,
well surely two would stand to loose.

But in the night, her dreams held true,
the love it was her heart went to.
Though with the dawn her sadness grew,
the warmth she felt was gone, she knew.

And though she woke, she could not rise.
Her mind was lost beneath her eyes,
instead it soared beyond the seas,
and weaved around among the trees.
It fluttered to the place she knew,
this place it was where her heart grew.

It found it’s way and hoped to stay
into the arms where lovers play.
And in those arms she loved so dear
her eyes began to shed a tear.
She wasn’t sad, or mad, but glad,
for it was her she’d wanted so bad.
And as it was her that her heart had belonged
she knew from the start that it had all along.

So I sent the poem off to my mom, and awaited the questions I knew that she would have for me. And she did have questions, and I answered them by explaining my journey to figure out who I am and who I want to be, and how I want to be seen and fit into the world. I explained that I have come to realize that I am bisexual and I am married to a man, and I would not change one second of this life I have been given to figure out. Her response was very simple, and to the point, and not what I had expected. She said “I thought so.” and added the “thinking man” emoji to her text. I am thankful to say that her response made me feel so relieved, and seen, and loved, and I will never take that for granted because I know that there are many other people out there with stories similar to mine, who do not get the same warm feelings in response to their coming out. I love my mother to pieces, and everyone who has been there to support me in everything I do in this life. I will take none of them for grated, and I will be living my life, doing the best to spread love, understanding and light to those dark sides of society as I go.

Thank you so dearly, from the very bottom of my heart, and from the depths of my being where I had been hiding away my true self for so many years. Everyone living an out and open life, and everyone who is trying to get there right now, you are all my heroes, and you are not alone in this crazy world!

All my love to you,

Chels

Long journey that was sometimes, very difficult and challenging and will likely continue to be so. However, after 20 years of being with person I love, I can be myself.

I think I have always known, but when from a small town with little diversity, you push the feelings aside until you are generally faced with an opportunity to understand more. Much like the founder, I have an appreciation for males and females but my soulmate and best friend happened to be female which all of a sudden made life a bit more challenging and amazing at the same time. I had to deal with an ex-husband, my daughter and family. Was not easy but after nearly 20 years, raising my daughter, having a son together and finding myself, I could not be happier. I am finally comfortable with who I am and always willing to help others do the same.

Feelings and Finding Footing

I came out on my private facebook page in October 2018, when I was 25. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever written.
I’d never been fully, openly truthful about who I am. While I had told a few close friends, I hadn’t told anyone else. As scared as I was to do it, it was time. I’m still scared of how it may affect my career (I’m also an actress), but I refuse to live in that fear forever.

I identify as a demisexual-lesbian. I’m not a huge fan of labels, but I use that to help others understand.

I grew up in a conservative family, in a conservative area. I’ve known since I was 11 years old. For many years I was hoping and praying it was a “phase”, repeatedly begging God to please help me; fix me.
It never worked.

I’ve been in and out of therapy since I was 12 years old. I developed panic disorder and depression.

In high school, I told a trusted friend. Not long after, what seemed like the entire school knew. I lost friends. I was blackmailed, harassed, bullied, humiliated, and was even physically threatened. My school did nothing. I didn’t want to live anymore.

I’ve grown tired of worrying about who knows and who doesn’t, worrying if people that I didn’t want to know found out. It’s too much to worry about. I know I will lose people that I care about over this, but I can’t change who I am. Like I’ve said, I’ve tried.

I’ve accepted who I am (even if I still don’t always like it.) If you can’t accept me and support me as I am, please respect me and refrain from trying to “change” me or “save” me.
If God be God, and really can do anything, that means that I can be changed. Then why haven’t I been? Maybe it’s because I’m SUPPOSED to be this way. Why? I don’t know. It is what it is; I am who I am.

I would hope that I deserve to love and be loved just as much as anyone else.

To those who stick by me; your support means more than you could ever possibly imagine. 10 years ago I thought no one ever would, so it still surprises and moves me every single time someone does.

I definitely still have more self-discovery to do, but I’m learning to be less afraid. I’ll get there.

Sending all the love and light to my rainbow family.