Community Rainbow Waves

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.

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

Skylar Counts

I think that an internal battle with yourself is one of the hardest things.

I’m sure we’ve all been there. What do you do when your heart is telling you one thing, but your mind is telling you another?

In my case, my internal battle with myself was my sexuality.

When I was in middle school, I had my first girl crush. I didn’t really think anything of it. I was just like, “Oh, whatever, this will go away.” But it didn’t. The feelings persisted and I found myself in a situation I had never been in before — I had feelings for a girl. I remember being so confused and so scared to be myself. Those feelings resulted in me pushing the girl away and ultimately ending our friendship.

After that, I tried to focus on liking boys. And I did like them, even dated a few. I suppressed the part of myself that liked girls and did what my family, friends, and society told me to do — I liked boys.

When I would get a crush on a girl, I would ignore the feelings and focus on a guy that I thought was cute. That continued in high school. I hid a part of myself from everyone I knew and even from those I didn’t know. I was scared, alone, and struggling. Coming from a family who doesn’t talk about feelings, I suppressed what I was feeling even more. As long as they were happy, I didn’t have to be, right?

Wrong.

My suppressed feelings turned into anger. I was angry that I couldn’t be myself, angry that I couldn’t love a girl because of what others would think of it. How could I be living my truth when I was lying to myself? I was in a constant battle with myself; in a constant battle with what my heart was telling me and what my mind was telling me. My heart told me to take that leap and be unapologetically me, but my mind told me to push those feelings so far down to the point where they would become nonexistent. I had to decide if I was going to let society win or if I was going to let my truth win.

And then, when I was a Sophomore in high school, I stumbled upon a show that changed my life — Wynonna Earp. You’ve heard of it, eh?

I fell in love with the show at first glance. The writing, the cinematography, the acting, but, ultimately, Miss Waverly Earp and her being bisexual. I related to her right away and instead of fear, it brought me comfort. For the first time in my life, I was comfortable in my own skin. I wasn’t scared anymore. I was, dare I say, proud.

From that point on, I looked forward to Friday night’s. I could watch Wynonna Earp on the TV in my room and be myself. When I was watching the show, I didn’t have to be the Skylar who only liked boys; I didn’t have to be the Skylar who did what everyone else wanted; I didn’t have to be the Skylar who was scared to be herself. Wynonna Earp gave and still gives me the courage to be myself.

Shortly after I started watching Wynonna Earp, one of my best friends texted me one night and said that he had something he needed to tell me. A few texts later, he came out to me.It was late at night, maybe midnight or one o’clock in the morning, and he asked if he could come pick me up so that we could drive around and talk. So I sneaked out of the house and got in his car.

I remember feeling so free when driving around with him. We were both in a safe space and we had a new sense of comfort with each other. Before we ended our night, we went to Walmart and bought Fruity Pebbles. We ate them in his car and talked, laughed, and made a memory that both of us will remember forever. I almost came out to him that night.

But fear took over again and I pushed those feelings away yet again. It felt like all of my progress flew out out of the window. I was at a loss. I was 17 and, once again, scared, alone, and struggling.

What to do, what to do, what to do…

I lived in that fear for the rest of my high school career. When someone speculated that I was queer, I just shrugged and shook my head. When my mom looked at me weirdly for wearing skinny jeans and a baggy t-shirt instead of more “girly” clothes, I turned away and hung my head. When my family made jokes of me potentially being queer, I laughed along and cried when no one was watching.

I felt defeated, like I was never going to find the courage to be out.

But then I started making friends who were out and proud and that made me feel peaceful. I started being more myself, more my beautifully queer self. And, boy, did it feel good.

I’m 19 now. I’m no longer scared. I no longer have an internal battle with myself. Through my journey so far, I have realized that love comes in many different shapes, sizes, and genders. And with that realization comes the beautiful fact that I can now live my truth. I love humans. I love love. Ultimately, though, I love being queer.

It’s been a long time coming, but all those moments with my friends, family, and society full of fear, uncertainty, and struggle helped shape me into the person I am today. And that is a queer woman, out and proud.

With all of this being said, I want those reading this to know that it’s okay to be scared and confused. Your feelings are valid and you are not disposable. You’re not alone. If you ever need anyone to talk to, you can reach me on Instagram and Twitter @sky_counts.

Here’s to being here,

To being queer,

To being unapologetically you.

Spread your beautiful, colorful waves and remember that in light there is love and in love there is happiness.

#OutIsTheNewIn

Lezbehonest I am very much a lesbian.

Growing up in a household where homosexuality was never discussed, I never realized that I in fact was a lesbian. I started to fantasize about women at a young age (5 y/o), but it was not until high school that it really started to hit me. I realize that I was not flirting with guys who were trying to hook up because I was too distracted by the beautiful girl near me. During the day I was busy with theatre, dealing with my father’s death, shitty math classes that I could barely pass, and other things; however, during the night it was just me and my thoughts. It came to the point where I could not take it anymore and was miserable. I knew that I had to do something right then and there. Of course I would muster up the courage to come out in the early AM while everyone was asleep except for my sister. I decided that the best thing I could do is type out an e-mail and send it to those who I valued opinions from the most, so I did and it was the most terrifying e-mail I have ever sent. Since my sister was still out and about with her boyfriend, I decided I would text her. Her response was almost immediate. I was shocked to see that all she wrote was “it’s about time”. That helped me relax a bit that night, but the nagging thoughts of me losing my best friends and family members made it a restless sleep. I was so worried my female best friends would think I intentionally wanted to share a bed during sleepovers because I wanted to sleep with them. I was terrified to be woken up in the middle of the night to my mum dragging me out of the house by my hair and disowning me. Would the man who promised my dad he would take care of us disown me so I am completely out of a father figure? When morning came I managed to get out of bed and right when I opened my door the universe made sure it was at the same time my mum was walking out of her room. We stood there staring at each other and the look she gave me I have never seen before. Thankfully after what felt like hundreds of hours she asked, “are you sure?”. I said yes and b-lined for the bathroom. Nothing else was said after that until I caught her watching a documentary on homosexuality a few days later. This time the looks were reversed! Thankfully most of my loved ones were accepting. I was set free on Monday, October 6th, 2008 at 12:30AM. <3

Queer

I knew I was attracted to people other than boys when I was around 7/8 years old. It was difficult to understand, but thankfully I have supportive family/friends who accept me for who I am. I first told my older sister and she explained to me that it was ok to love who I wanted to. I slowly came out to my parents and although they worried about the struggles I’d face later on in life, they only want me to be happy. I’ve slowly come out to friends new and old and have been met mostly with open arms. Coming out never really stops, but for me, the fear of rejection has subsided. Now, being 18, I’ve developed feelings for many a person, not limited to any gender. I’m proud to be who I am and wouldn’t change it for the world.

Be Brave

Growing up in an academic focused, traditional Asian family, my ‘path’ had always felt like it was mapped out for me. I knew who I was suppose to be the minute I knew how to walk. I was a pretty sheltered child and didn’t even know what the term “gay” meant, let alone understanding it. Moving to San Francisco for college was the first real introduction I had to the LGBTQ+ community. Once learning more about the community and understanding my thoughts and feelings, my whole life made so much more sense. I understood why I was so angry at my best friend in high school for hanging out with her boyfriend instead of me. I understood why I go out my way to make certain girls happy. I finally understood why and that scared me. I was different.

I first came out to my college friends as bisexual because I felt like it was easier for them to understand and accept. I wasn’t honest with myself even then. I’m very thankful that I had a group of friends that were very open minded and supportive. Living in SF at the time didn’t hurt either. I eventually came out as a lesbian to my best friend, crying my eyes out because I was finally allowing myself to admit it. Life at that point was good and I was embracing myself and experiencing this new me. But I soon realize I was living a double life. When I’m home I become someone else. I was out to everyone but my immediate family. I stumbled out of the closet to my mom when I was 21 and she kicked me out of the house, claiming that I was disgusting. She was my hero. I thought she going to understand. She didn’t and it broke my heart. I lived most of my life trying to make her proud and I failed her because I was being me.

I went through some of the darkest times of my life then as I was done with this life and it’s disappointments. I wanted a different kind of out. I try to end it all but I survived and that was my true awakening. I started on a whole new journey in finding myself and to be my most authentic self. During this journey I found the love of my life, a smart and beautiful woman who I asked to marry me. Now that I’m older, I decided to give the conversation with my mother another chance. So last Christmas, I came out again to my mom and asked if she would be at my wedding. Her answer was no. It hurts. It’ll always hurt but I came to the realization that I’m not going to sacrifice my happiness for anyone anymore. At the end of the day, I have to be able to live with myself and the person I’m becoming. I’ve learned to be brave and face what’s coming my way with kindness and compassion. Not everyone will understand my truth just like I might not understand theirs. We as human just need to help each other learn the different truths. Hopefully one day, my mom will understand mine.

But I’m now 31 and I’m the happiest and most free I’ve ever been.
Took 10 years but I’m queer, I’m here and that’s MY truth.

Much love, always.
Sandy

Lesbian

Hi, I’m Zoe and engaged to the most beautiful and inspiring women on the planet. I truly love her with all my heart and can’t wait to marry her.

But let’s back up a bit, before I met her; I was like all of you (those that aren’t out yet) – struggling in my teens coz I felt different about women and I did try to hide it for a while but a part of you, just wants to be free. I managed to conceal it for quite a few years but I guess I came to a point in my life where I just said… ENOUGH! I just want to be me!

There is always going to be that doubt when your not out. Is my family going to except me? What if I come out and nobody likes me? But don’t listen to the negativity and embrace the positivity.

Fortunately my family and friends are very accepting and so it wasn’t that difficult to come out to my parents – I was more scared to tell my nanas. But like my parents and family – they love me for me and are happy if I’m happy.

So I’ve never been comfortable meeting someone in a bar, shop etc. So that’s when I ventured into LGBTQ online dating. I have in the past been on all the dating sites to meet men but this time, it was a brand new experience.
I actually signed up for a site called ‘compatible partners’. Didn’t know what to expect but much like the other websites, it was quite easy to get the hang of.
Talked back and forth with a few girls for about 2-4 months and was feeling like I should start to give up when I saw a picture of what looked like an angel. I just knew I had to message her, even if I got nothing back. Within a week, she replied and we hit it off straight away. We messaged for a while on the website, then exchanged email, Facebook and eventually phone numbers. I couldn’t believe my luck and still can’t every day. I feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Back when we met, I was living in north east England and she was living outside of London so roughly 4 hours drive between us. But I thought screw it, I owe it to myself to meet this person because if not I will regret it for the rest of my life.
First date consisted of me driving down to her and turning up on her doorstop (heart pounding & butterflies in my stomach). There was a lot of mixed feelings that day, was I good enough for her? She’s slim and beautiful, what if she sees me and thinks I’m ugly, fat etc? I won’t bore you with it all, but was also so excited to meet the person I’d been chatting too for 6-8 months too. Felt like it had been a lot longer talking and I’d known her my whole life. Up until this point, we had only exchanged photos so it literally could of been anyone when I turned up there. (So girls, be careful!)

Thankfully she was who she said she was and we hit off straight away. We did long distance for about 6 months and then I decided I wanted to move to be with her. I was looking for that change and needed to start my life and move out of my parents, so really she came along at the perfect timing.
The rest is kind of history now. Every day is a blessing with her and I always feel grateful to have her by my side.
We plan to get married October 2021.
One piece of advice to those who who have yet to come out or even out but struggling still…
Don’t give up, your time will come.
Be you. Be proud & trust in yourself.

Thank you

I am OUT!! #OutIsTheNewIn

A lesbian who loves to hear peoples’ life stories. content warning – this coming out story contains discussion and/or mention of self-harming behaviour and suicide

Howdy! My name is Megan. My first “not straight” feelings were around age 9. I didn’t know what I was, all I knew was that I held my female best friend’s hand, and my stomach did somersaults. At age 10, I started going to a conservative baptist church, and over the next 14 years, I would battle with homophobia to the point of almost ending my life. My best friend, we’ll call her T, began to treat me as her significant other. We’d cuddle and kiss and hold hands, but it was just practicing for our future husbands (fun fact, I wasn’t practicing). T would kiss me, then ghost me for a bit and tell me what we did was wrong and against God. This happened for about 6 years, and then she started dating my brother (my brother did not know what was going on). As soon as they started dating, I lost myself. I became angry at everything and everyone. At this point, I was on my 3rd round of biblical counseling; I was being told I wasn’t thankful for my role as a woman, I was giving in to a life consuming sin, and that if I just prayed hard enough, that I would find a husband and these feelings would go away. I tortured myself to try to fit the mold I thought I needed to… In June of 2018, I was in Florida with my family. In key west, there was a pride parade, but I didn’t ask to go as to not make my family uncomfortable. We ended up accidentally running into the parade. I got off of my motorcycle and stood in the crowd, and they began throwing beads in my direction, but a big familiar hand caught them, and I looked to find my father standing next to me. Over the next few months, I began a journey of feeing comfortable enough to come out to my family, and then the world. I lost people in my life, and my family made sacrifices as well to support me. My brother and I left the church, and my parents were kicked out because they weren’t willing to disown me. I live now as a happy lesbian in eastern Washington State, and I wouldn’t change anything. My experiences made me a far more compassionate person, and I treasure that more than I know.

A transwoman, finally able to be herself

I first realized something about me was different when I was about 14. All the boys in my religious private school, which was gender segregated, started noticing girls. I noticed girls, and boys, but more importantly I wanted to be the girls. This was during a time when it was very much not acceptable to be trans. And in the religious community where I lived, even more so. I was told, “a person can either be queer, or they can be Jewish. They can’t be both.” And the Jewish community was my world, my life. It was everything I knew.

Over the next few years, I struggled with myself and my identity, up-and-down and up-and-down. I tried to pray the gay away. I tried being hyper masculine, to offset what I knew was the real person inside me. Nothing worked, nothing made the pain of living a lie go away. And I would spiral up-and-down and up-and-down. And then I couldn’t take it anymore.

I sat my spouse down, and I explained to her how I have been feeling and how I was not the person that she thought she married. I had my bags packed, and I fully expected her to throw me out. And to my utter surprise, and as I started sobbing common she didn’t. She hugged me and said “OK. Let’s deal with this together.”

Since then, I have come out, I’m living my truth, and I could never be happier. I’ve met family members who I never knew before, and found the family of my heart. And I could not possibly be happier. My wife accepts me for who I am, my children accept me for who I am. And that’s all that’s really important.

My name is Carolyn and I’m a lesbian.

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DEPRESSION.

The first time I remember being attracted to women I was 9 years old.
I hid this fact about myself and eventually married a man at 16 in 1983, our marriage was difficult for multiple reasons. In 1986 I left my marriage. I began a queer relationship with a woman I worked with, but we both kept it secretive from everyone for 3 years and it ended sadly, which broke my heart because I loved her still and she was the only person I could be myself with! I knew I wanted to be in a queer relationship again, but I didn’t know how or where to go and meet women like myself. I was still hiding my secret from my family and friends. This secret was making me sick mentally and physically to the point I ended up in a mental institution for 2 weeks from severe depression. Upon leaving the hospital I decided I would need to tell family and friends if I was going to get healthy. It did take me a month or 2 but I came out to my family members one at a time, their are 6 siblings in my immediate family, then my mother and father. All of my family except my father was wonderful about my coming out!
I eventually told everyone which was such freedom! I was in 2 short relationships that lasted 2/3 years. Then I met my soul partner Maureen Flannery and we were together for 19 years. Maureen passed away December 20th 2017 from cancer. I’m now just starting to feel the need to be in queer relationship with another woman.