Community Rainbow Waves

Lesbian

I started realizing that I liked girls in grade 7. I always thought that it would go away but it never did. About a year later I realized that this wasn’t a faze I was going through and that this is who I am. I was terrified when I finally realized that. I had no idea what to do or who to talk to. So as a very intelligent individual, I took a million ‘are you gay?’ quizzes. These rarely helped solve any of my problems but now I knew for sure I was into girls in more than a friendly way. I knew I liked girls but I didn’t know if I liked boys. I kept going back and forth in my mind if I was bi or gay. This drove me crazy. By grade 9 I was finally comfortable and satisfied with calling myself gay. I still hadn’t told anyone at this point but the possibility started entering my mind. Whenever I opened my mouth to tell someone my fear stopped me. All of grade 9 was a roller coaster of wanting to tell someone but being to scared of how they’d react and how they’d treat me after I told them. By September of 2019, grade 10, I came out to my brother, full on tears and everything. The way he responded couldn’t have been better. He told me that it was fine and he didn’t mind one bit, and he treated me the same after. That gave me so much courage to tell other people. So, little by little, I told my close friends, then my not so close friends, and then my mom. My step dad was the person I was petrified to tell, because he grew up in a very closed minded family. Every terrible thought came to my mind: “what if he wants to kick me out?”, “what if he hates me?”, “what if he never talks to me again?”. In December of 2019 my mom told me it was time to tell him. So, we all sat down in the kitchen, and I told him. He took it as good as he was able to. He had a few questions and needed some clarification to understand how sexuality worked, and he still loved and cared for me the same he did before I told him. Now here I am, in 2020, out to the world and proud. It was a very long journey to get to where I am now and I know there is still so much exploring to do and things for me to figure out about myself, but I am proud to call myself so so gay. 🙂

A series of moments

I don’t remember the first time I figured out I was not straight.

I only remember a series of moments along the way.

I remember playing the Sims on my Dad’s computer and having my Sim adopt a daughter on her own and keep a close female best friend around. She had a beautiful garden and a swimming pool.

I remember being obsessed with some girls in primary and middle schools. Girls who were pretty and intelligent and popular. Girls whose blogs I could recite by heart. Girls I would have on the phone to ask them what colour their bedroom wallpaper was.

I remember being obsessed with Naomi and Emily when I began watching Skins in high school. Watching and rewatching their episodes and never being able to put my finger on what it was that I could relate to.

I remember my second trip to England, being in my exchange partner’s bedroom at night and reading her diary entry about having a crush on a girl.

I remember watching Brittany and Santana in the first seasons of Glee and being confused by their definition of friendship.

I remember noticing girls in my high school. The way they dressed. The way they talked. But I also remember noticing boys in my high school. And having crushes. A lot of them. I remember hugging him in the cafeteria and feeling like my heart would explode out of joy. But I also remember my friend’s voice when she ventured to say that maybe, just maybe, I had crushes on boys that were out of my league so that I would not have to date them for real.

I remember seeing my best friend falling in love with someone else and getting closer to them and my heart would break a little. I remember telling her how I felt. We grew closer and closer every year and we would tell each other that it was only a phase we would grow out of to eventually marry men, have children, and buy houses next to each other.

I remember spending hours and hours writing in my diary: I know I am not straight. But I know I am not gay. What am I? What am I?

I remember watching Faking it and finally being able to relate. Thank you to Dana, Julia and Carter for developing the character of Amy Raudenfeld.

I remember being on a bus to Clifton in Bristol and seeing that girl and thinking that maybe, just maybe, I would not mind dating a girl after the phase with my best friend was over.

I remember being in my bedroom with my best friend. Looking at each other with heart eyes and speaking of spending our lives together. I remember her telling me again that it was all a game. And I remember telling her that I was tired of playing this game and that I deserved better.

I remember creating a profile on a dating app for the first time and being faced with the preference choices. Show me boys. Show me girls. Show me both. I remember the answer being instant : both. What. Oh wait. I’m bi. I’M BI.

I remember going on my first date with this boy a couple of months later. How it felt wrong from the get go, but I couldn’t understand why. We were the exact same age, had a lot of things in common, listened to the same music. He was kind, respectful, good-looking. And yet, all I could think of was “please, don’t kiss me”. After this date, I remember changing my app preference to “show me girls” only.

I remember coming out to my mum on a beautiful afternoon in Spring. We were holding cups of coffee, sitting on my sofa. I was nervous. I chose the words : “I like boys, but I also like girls. I’m bisexual”.

I remember breaking off all ties with my best friend because I realised that I could not be happy living in a world in which she was dating someone else. I remember crying my eyes out for months and wondering how I could be happy living a life she was not a part of.

I remember watching Wynonna Earp because I had been told Waverly was a positive representation of bisexuality and be happy that a relationship could be so natural and uncomplicated. Thank you to Dominique, Kat and Emily for imagining and developing the Wayhaught relationship and giving me hope.

I remember coming out to my dad over lunch on a beautiful summer day and deliberately not using the word bisexual. I chose the words : “I like girls, but I could also end up with a boy”.

I remember my therapist frowning when I would tell her that I liked girls but invariably precise that I didn’t mind boys either. I remember being angry at her for making me question my sexuality. I remember her telling me I could be a lesbian and that it would be just as fine. That day, I left her office and felt as if I had grown wings. But I was not a lesbian : what about all those crushes I had had on boys?

I remember being with a male colleague in my car at night. I had just given him a lift to his apartment. We had spent a lovely evening. Instead of leaving the car right away saying good night, he lingered a little and was looking at me. I knew I had feelings for him. But a voice in my head was also screaming : “please, don’t kiss me”.

I remember her sitting on my sofa. We had met the week before, at a party. I remember my mind going blank when she went for it and held my hand. How when we walked back to her car, the voice in my head was screaming : “please, please, kiss me”.

I remember coming out to my grandparents and telling them about my new girlfriend. My grandmother said : “I knew”.

For a while, I was obsessed with labels. I wanted to embrace my new identity. Be proud and loud. But I constantly outgrow the label I choose. I claim I am bisexual, and then cringe when I have to admit that I can’t quite picture myself dating a boy. I say I can only picture myself loving a girl, and then cringe again when I have to admit that I am developing a crush on a male colleague.

I don’t know if I should identify as a bisexual, pansexual, queer or lesbian woman. I don’t mind people assuming for me, and I don’t correct them when they do. But I no longer use these labels anymore when I come out to a new colleague or a new friend.

The only thing that I know is that, sometimes, I bump into other human beings who are so beautiful inside and out that it makes my heart beat faster and my eyes glow. And I feel lucky to walk this earth and meet these people and love them and lose them and feel alive.

Cristina, Bisexual, scientist in the making, 24

I think I’ve known who I really am my whole life, but it wasn’t until I went to college that I really found my community, 4 out of 5 of my best friends identify as queer, so it’s very ease to feel comfortable around them. When I was 20 years old, I met the woman that would become my first love. It took me awhile to realize that I loved her, but as soon as I was sure of it, I decided to tell my parents and brothers. I actually couldn’t find the words to do it, so my dad step up and asked me If I was in love with her, so I told them I was. My brothers were really supportive and acted like it was the most natural thing in the world, but for my parents was a little difficult, especially because I wasn’t telling them that I only like women, but that I also still like men, that was really confusing for them. It has been almost 3 years since that day, and she is still my girlfriend, my parents and brothers love her, she knows almost my entirely family (In Chile, we are use to have like 6 uncles/aunties and like 10 cousins, so it’s a big deal), although, only my closest family knows she is my girlfriend even though I don’t hide it (in social media or real life), so that is the next step for me, to be more vocal and more awarely proud of who I am and who I love.

Katy/Polyamorous Lesbian

To me, it seems like there are two stages to coming out: coming out to yourself and coming out to others. I was 13 when I thought I might be bi, 15 when I admitted to myself (after two years of self-flagellation) that I was a lesbian, and 16 when I came out to others. But it wasn’t until I was 20 that I could really call myself proud, or at least self-accepting. It was a long, rough journey, but definitely worthwhile.

I think it was that journey and maturity that made realizing I was polyamorous so much easier:

Me: “I like her…but I also like her…and it’s not that I like one more than the other…it’s that they’re equal, but different…”
My Brain: “Polyamory is a thing.”
Me: “…Huh.”
And that was that.

As much as people joke about gaydar, we do know our own. I’m lucky enough to know a lot of people who are out and proud, but every so often I meet someone who makes me think “this person is out to themselves, and they’ve accepted it, but they’re not quite ready to share it with the world yet.” And you know what? That’s ok. Coming out is a process, and it takes as long as it needs to. Coming out to myself and truly accepting my sexuality was the hardest part, but also the most rewarding. So whatever you feel and whomever you love, be honest and out to YOURSELF first and foremost. The rest will come in time.

And know that when you are ready to come out to others, you’ve got a rainbow of people ready to lift you up.

Human – but also very much gay

I have had a very fortunate journey unlike many of my LGBTQ+ brothers/sisters/non-binary folk. I became aware of my interest in the same sex from a young age. I specifically remember when I was in elementary school around age six or seven having crushes on my female classmates. At this time, I was unaware that many people across the world thought it was “morally” wrong to love members of the same sex in a romantic way. It wasn’t until one evening (when I was still in elementary school) that I was taking a shower and my mother came in unannounced. She was holding my diary. The very same diary that I expressed my feelings of attraction towards other girls. I don’t remember the exact conversation but I do remember that it made me feel like I needed to safeguard my emotions and keep what I was experiencing a secret, even from my family.

Fast forward to when I started middle school (around age 10-11 in the United States). I got my first “official” girlfriend who was on my club soccer team. I use quotations solely because we were very young & unexperienced and didn’t tell anyone about our relationship. Eventually, during this relationship, I wanted to tell my mom that I liked girls. I panicked but still managed to muster up the courage to send her a text message (classic, I know) while I was at school. I said something along the lines of “I have a crush on …, I don’t want you to be mad and I’m sorry”. I did it. I sent the message. I wasn’t worried about an immediate response because she is a teacher and wouldn’t be looking at her phone until the end of the day. Though, when it was time for me to ride the bus home and confront her, I was terrified. I got home before she did and pretended to be asleep to avoid the dreadful conversation that was ultimately inevitable. When we were finally face to face, I remember trying so hard to keep my emotions neutral but began bawling my eyes out. Her reaction wasn’t as I had hoped. Again, I don’t remember the whole conversation, but I do remember one thing that she said – “I don’t understand, I have friends that are girls and I have never felt this way”. That comment filled me with loneliness. Now, I have always had the “I simply don’t give a fuck” attitude and exterior, but that conversation broke me.

A few years later in high school (age 14-15), I had a different girlfriend who I believe I was in love with that was also on my soccer team. There was one evening my club had a meeting about future events that my mom drove me to. As we were pulling out of the parking lot to go home, my mom asked me a very simple question. She said “are you in a relationship with …? I can see the way you feel by the way you look at her”. It was then that I decided I was not going to lie about it anymore. I said yes and the whole 30-minute drive home, my mother cried in front of me as I sat quietly.

This whole time I think I have talked about my mother in a negative light, but I don’t want to portray her as someone who doesn’t support me. Currently, I am 23 and we have an amazing relationship in which she loves me unconditionally. The way she reacted while I was in elementary, middle, and high school wasn’t ideal, but it was a process for her just as much as me, and I grew to understand that throughout my childhood and adolescence. Mainly she was scared for me knowing about how people treat others once they discover they are a member of the LGBTQ+ community, she has always wanted to guarantee my safety.

I recognize that some people don’t care for my story and that’s okay, but I thought I would put it out there for reassurance for anyone who might need or want it. Unfortunately, not all stories end like mine. A lot of parents don’t understand or refuse to understand, causing an unmeasurable amount of pain, sorrow, distrust, etc. that never goes away for that individual. I want it to be known that it won’t always feel that way. One day you will be able to leave if you decide to. With that, there is a community that will always love you and let you know that your feelings and experiences are valid. You are loved and worthy.

Another topic I would like to speak on is mental health. (I know when will this bitch end omggggg). For my first year of college, I moved away and lived in a house with my friends. It was a truly remarkable experience that I love and cherish – but it is also a place where I experienced my first horrible panic attack. Note, I was very naïve back then and didn’t know what a panic attack was before that. It has been roughly five years since it happened and I still struggle with anxiety almost daily. It is okay to ask for help, it actually takes massive metaphorical balls to do so. Please know that you are strong. You are important. You and your story matters. Thank you.

I am Queer

I first knew that I was attracted to girls in the 8th grade. I came out as bisexual to my best friend and she very accepting and so were all my other friends. And I know that it is common for people confused with their sexualities to initially come out as bi but I did cause I wanted to put the word that I like girls out there into the world. But I knew that I was still confused. It was factual that I liked girls, a lot, but I was still unsure if I was attracted to guys. So for a good year or so, I’m now a freshman in high school and the only people that know my sexuality are my closest friends, no family. But me being the extremely gay girl that I am I had a pride calendar which was really a Friends calendar that I painted rainbow. Anyway, my mom came in and saw it and talked to me. It was actually pretty funny cause I was simply trying to eat my cheesy Gordita crunch from Taco Bell. I knew I had nothing to be worried about because my mom is very woke. Her exact words were “Ive always wanted a gay daughter,” and we just started laughing. I was very nervous cause I wasn’t ready to come out so I said I was pansexual. And until a few weeks ago she thought I was until she tried to put me on birth control which requires a pap smear and once I learned what that was I came out again and told her that I was mainly attracted to girls and that she will not be seeing me with a guy. She’s the only person in my family that knows I’m gay. I planned on telling my grandma but sadly she passed away in October, which sent my anxiety and depression on high alert. But now at this very moment I am the happiest I’ve ever been and now I have a beautiful girlfriend. Only my friends know that we’re dating but, baby steps. And one day I will have the courage to tell my entire family, whether they accept me or not, that’s they’re decision and whatever happens happens.

Old School Dyke

I came out 40 years ago this August when I was 19 years old. For me, the realization of who I was when I came out was like someone had thrown open the shutters and thrown up the sash and let the air and light into my life. Unfortunately, there was also a great since of fear especially at that time. Short history lesson: Stonewall had happened just 11 years earlier in 1969. Homosexuality was removed from the list of “mental illnesses” by the American Psychiatric Association only 7 years prior in 1973. “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” was still 14yrs away so they did ask and if you were found out you could not only be disowned by your family, but chances were good you might lose your job or your housing and most of your friends.
For me it was a time of wonder, I was naïve. But I as lucky because when I first came out, I found an older lesbian, who I worked with, that was able to help me navigate this new hidden world and find the community. You must remember that this is long before the internet, so finding each other was exceedingly difficult. She taught me about feminist bookstores, Lesbian Connection (a newsletter that is still published today), women’s potlucks, women’s music and of course the bars, though very few if any of those women’s space still exist. It was all about knowing the code words and symbols: feminist, womyn, potluck, lavender, violets, labrys, etc. To this day I still use “the look” with other women in public that let us each other know that we are the same without words.
Regarding the fear and history there is one story that I carry with me to this day. It was on St. Patrick’s Day 1981 when my older lesbian mentor smuggled me into the Three Sisters bar in Denver. I know they knew I was a little underage, but they also knew that the lesbian bars were one of the few places that was safe to meet other people like yourself. The Sisters was packed that night and the group I was with had been there about 30-40 minutes when across the room there is a face I recognized. Being young, and like I said naïve and feeling invincible I got up and walked across the bar, and bold as brass walked up to the woman I recognized and said: “Hi Miss (name withheld)”, to my high school guidance counselor. She turned and looked at me and said HI back in a very trepidatious way, not using my name and being kind of distant… I was a bit taken aback as we had been close in high school but figured whatever ‘it’s been awhile’ and went back to the group I was with. About a half hour later she came across the bar to me and said, “Hi Jackie” and introduced me to the woman she was with and we spoke for a few minutes. To this day I cannot forget the look of sheer terror that ran across her face when I said her name, it was the first time I understood just how dangerous being out could be. If found out she would have lost her job, possibly her home – everything. She was sacred of me recognizing her in a lesbian bar and it took her over a half hour to realize that if I was there too it was OK, and her secret was safe. I wish I could say that was the only time over the years that I have seen “that look”, but I am glad to say that I see it very seldom now and I hope that this generation and the next will never have to see it.
Thank you for this forum to share these stories. As I get older, I worry that our herstory and where and who we came from is being lost. Hopefully, projects like this will help to keep that from happening and keep our stories alive.

Lesbian

I realized I was a lesbian when I was a mere twelve years old. It wasn’t a huge moment. I remember sitting on the couch and suddenly thinking “I like girls”. I’ve been lucky enough to grow up in an environment where being LGBT is accepted. My parents are accepting, my friends are accepting, and my community is accepting. My story isn’t dramatic, but it’s a piece of me.

Sunflower in a Rainstorm

Being apart of the LGBTQ+ community is never something anyone could ever plan for. At first there is usually some form of confusion and shame. However, every single person has a beautiful story on how they have persevered through. Here is my story.

My coming out story started in the 7th grade with a girl who had beautiful blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. I knew at the time the feelings I had for her were “wrong” but there was always this gravitational pull toward her. Being that this wasn’t a “normal” feeling to have, I didn’t give into my urges because “girls are suppose to be with boys” and “everyone will think I am a freak.” Because of those constant reminders of social normalities, for the next few years I was on and off with boys. I never really had a dislike to boys but girls have always caught my eyes. All through middle school I was extremely confused with my own self identity. However, everything changed when I got to high school.

I have always been an athletic girl so I decided that I was going to go for the varsity basketball team. I successfully made the team as one of the 3 freshman players. At first was quite intimidating playing with 17 and 18 year olds, until I became close with Raquel. Raquel was another freshman who had always played a few grade levels up, therefore, she already knew the entire team. Trying to fit in I latched onto Raquel to get my in with the upperclassmen. However, the more I got to know Raquel, the more it opened my eyes about myself. Raquel has identified herself as a lesbian and has been out since she was in 5th grade. She has had multiple girlfriends and always talked about how experienced she was. Fascinated, I continued to hang out with her to learn more which allowed me to feel more like myself. I never before knew a real life lesbian.

In the beginning of our off season we decided to join the University of Florida camp tournament where we would stay in dorms and train with the woman’s basketball team. Unfortunately, Raquel picked to room with one of her upperclassman friends so I roomed with the other freshman. During the day, we had groups separated by position, which was great because Raquel and I played the same position. The camp was 4 days long and every day was a different activity that would completely drain all my energy but I got to be with Raquel. The only time that really sucked was night when I couldn’t see her. But I would wake up every morning excited to get another conversation in with her. On the last night, I was getting ready for bed when I got a text. It read “Meet me in my room in 5 minutes xx-R” Super excited I threw on my sweats and waited outside her room. My heart was racing when she opened the door. The room was pitch black and our other teammate was already sleeping. Raquel motioned me to get into her bed so we squeezed into the tight double bed. Silence surrounded us and Raquel was pulling me in closer to her body. My heart was thumping but my eyes stayed locked onto hers. After what felt like forever, Raquel finally whispered “I know what you are” and kissed me. Her lips were magical, nothing like I have ever felt with any boy. We continued holding each other and shared a few more kisses until it was time for me to sneak back into my room. When I got back to the room I finally knew. I have finally came out to myself.

Finding that ground of who you truly are is probably the most scariest things that anyone in the LGBTQ+ community has to go through. Not knowing who is going to accept you or understand you is a daunting feeling which can make you feel alone and isolated. But I just want you, the reader, to know that I understand and I accept you. A quote that has always stuck with me is this: “Not all those who wander are lost.” Be your own truth and know that you have an entire community behind you, supporting you. I love you and we are in this together. #StartTheWave

LOUISE

OK and wow… I first came out in 1974…a long, long time ago, in a world so unregonizable and foreign. After this teenage romance died I scurried back into the closet. I tried so hard to make it in the straight world. Now please remember in the 1970s there was no positive role model. There was no Melissa Etheridge, no Ellen. Representation of our community was nil. If we were represented on TV or film we were either killed off violently or we were freaking physcotic. At the lowest point I did consider harm to myself. I was alone and frigjtened
As hard as I tried I could not fit in with my straight friends. There was no positive space in universitys. Then… Ta da… Life threw me a life line. 1978 I met a woman who saved, who changed my life. She taught me gay was good. Being a. Lesbian was just fine. I was free. I was exhilarated. I was finally happy with me. I was going to be OK. With a lighter heart I embraced who I was. I came out to family–go figure, they weren’t surprised. My parents, etc were and have been extremely supportive. 1980…i met my sweetheart and this year we celebrate our 40th anniversary. Whew. Each day, each year has been an exciting adventure. Watching the LGBTQ grow, flourish. So… Moral of the story… Be, true to yourself, be true to your heart. Most of all be kind to yourself… Support one another and celebrate our pride.