Community Rainbow Waves

Nat

I started to realize and accept my feelings toward girls in middle school. I had just come out of a very stressful living situation and, since my brain didn’t have anything else to ruminate on, it turned to the girl that welcomed me into my new community. I spent the next several weeks v e r y confused and ended up texting my best friend to ask for help. I explained what I was feeling and she said that it was okay. She said I didn’t need a label to be worthy.

That was maybe five years ago. Now I’m a gay woman who is out to her family and is in a serious relationship. But that doesn’t mean it’s easier. I still get looks in the hallways for kissing my girlfriend. We still get scolded by administrators for laying our heads on each other’s shoulders. My family is tentatively accepting, but I know they’re uncomfortable. But I don’t let that stop me. I still hold my girlfriend and kiss her in the hallway. I still tell her that I love her. Because I do. And this is a part of who I am. And no one will ever take that away from me.

“I am made and remade continually”.

For me, realizing that I was a lesbian was probably the easiest part of my identity. I was in 8th grade and came out to my school in a research paper I had written on gender-neutral bathrooms (as one does).

This year, as an 18 year old student nurse, I felt that something about me was wrong.

I began to question whether or not I was a lesbian. I have always had moments where I thought that maybe I just hadn’t found the right guy yet. Eventually, I’d realize that was comphet and that I was very much a lesbian.

This summer, it hit me. It wasn’t the term “lesbian” that made me uncomfy. It was the term “girl”.

I think it would be fair to say that I spent well over 24 hours just scrolling through blog posts, coming out videos, twitter profiles, etc., all with one common topic: Non-binary.

I struggled for a long time trying to accept the fact that I was non-binary. I had always felt a close relationship with my womanhood and female empowerment. But some days, I feel very disconnected from it all.

Realizing that I was, in fact, non-binary was the easier step of my gender exploration.

I cannot tell you how many times I opened my social media accounts to change my pronouns from “she/her” to “she/they”. The tight squeeze I would feel in my throat always prevented me from solidifying that. I had many fears. Can I still identify as a lesbian? I still feel like a girl most days, am I non-binary? What if I change my pronouns back later on and people think I’m a fraud?

Reading it now, I’m giggling to myself at how silly my concerns were. Eventually, I gathered the nerve to come out to my friends, who received it very very well. I have yet to tell my family and, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I ever will. It is a part of my identity that I like to keep to myself. To my friends. I don’t feel so strongly about having to tell my family because I’m still the same person I was before I changed my pronouns. Sure, I’ll tell them if they ask why my pronouns say “she/they”. But I don’t feel that I have to make it well-known that I’m enby. And that’s okay!

So, the point of sharing this crazy story? To remind any of you that you are not alone. Sexuality is fluid. Gender is fluid. Identity is fluid. Feel free to experiment, to change, to find who you really are. Because once you find that part of yourself that just feels so right, everything around you begins to fall into place.

I’m Reagan. I’m 18 years old, and I am a non-binary lesbian.

Gender doesn’t define who I am attracted to or love.

Thinking back on my life I have memories of being attracted to both boys & girls but had no examples of what that was. It didn’t help living in the South and the buckle of the Bible Belt. The world, friends & family spoke negatively about “gay” people. So I pushed that part of me away, to the back of my mind. Then fast forward, I’m 28, married to a man & pregnant. I remember watching X-Files and crushing so hard on Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) while my husband thought I was into Mulder (David Duchovny). I began having anxiety, vivid dreams, fear & confusion.
Questions about my sexuality consumed my thoughts. Can I be gay or bisexual and still believe in God? I was “tomboy” but I still like wearing makeup…. Can you be gay and wear makeup?
I continued to hide my feelings. Symptoms got worse. I wanted to die.
I was 32 with 2 kids and miserable on the inside & living a lie. It was when I was ready to swallow 60 Xanax that I looked at my kids and thought I want them to grow up in a better world. I have to be that example!
I found the courage to tell my husband and file for divorce. Everyone chose ” his side”. Threatening to take my children away from their “perverted mother” & raise them the “right way”. I’ve never felt more alone. My own mother told my children their mother was going to burn in hell. I had to set boundaries and distance myself. I had to learn who I was and it took a lot longer than I wanted but it is the best most freeing thing I’ve ever felt. I described as feeling healed.
I slowly tried to make those I love understand that I’m still me and that my sexuality is not the only or most interesting thing about me. It took my mom 8 years to accept me. It was worth it, when I my son & daughter are becoming the loving, kind, & nonjudgmental people the world needs now.
A little advice for those not out and/or struggling is take your time, learn about yourself, research what LGBTQ+ support is available near you, but most importantly, stay safe. Also, before I told anyone, it made me more comfortable & confident to practice saying “I’m gay”, out loud, to myself. Sounds silly but it helped.
Thanks Dom & Start the Wave for providing such a wonderful & safe space!
Wishing Peace & Love to all!

Learning not to Fight Myself

A lot of people seem to know that they are “different” from an early age.

I never did. Or I didn’t for years anyway.

I had so many other things I was worried about. Whether it was switching schools again, taking care of my siblings that were significantly younger than me, or just trying to settle in to another new place, boys always seemed unimportant, so the fact that I wasn’t interested in them obviously just wasn’t a big deal. “I’m busy,” I told myself. “I need to make friends, get good grades, go off to college, then I’ll have time for that.”

But I was enamored with my girl friends, here and there. They were dynamic, intelligent, powerful, beautiful, captivating. I wanted to understand them, to do things for them, to make them feel like they were seen and they mattered. I would skip out on homework to text them, crawl out onto the roof at night when I was supposed to be in bed to have long phone conversations about our hopes and dreams and fears and insecurities. I would give up sleep to hear more about the complexities that come out of a person in the dark. I resented the boys that made them feel worthless or annoying or not good enough, because how could they be so blind?

When I first figured out that dating girls was a thing that you could do, I was 15. My first thought was, “Oh no. That. I want to do that.”

I made my way through my sophomore year in a blur, for the first time fully aware of a crush while it was happening. I went to prom with a nice boy from my friend group and hid in the bathroom because I couldn’t bring myself to dance with him. I knew I was staring at a friend who would never look at me that way, and I knew I had something to confront.

In the middle of all of it, my parents sold my childhood home and announced that we would be moving from our tiny Midwestern town to a suburb of Denver. I muddled through the year, researching by consuming every piece of lesbian representation that I could find and then promptly deleting my search history. Until the day that I didn’t. Until the day my parents sat me down as asked me about it. And I told them. And they asked if I was trying to get back at them for making me move. And we decided a few months later that I would go back home to finish high school, but tell no one because it would make things too hard. Make people too uncomfortable.

I truly, publicly, came out a month after I graduated. The day that marriage equality became the law of the land in the United States, June 26th 2015, I wrote a long, thoughtful Facebook post for anyone apart from my friends and family I’d already told. My mom called me to tell me that I should have asked her first, because she was having a hard week because it was her 40th birthday. That I should have asked before I celebrated because she didn’t want to deal with questions form the family. That I could still live a life of celibacy with God.

That was the first time that I felt the fierce protectiveness for my community, for myself, for my own worth, swirl and solidify in my chest. The first time that I really recognized that I didn’t need to be my own worst enemy because the world would take care of that. I had plenty to fight. I didn’t need to fight myself. Most importantly, I was strong enough to put myself in front of anyone that wasn’t there yet, and that that’s what this community does. We defend each other. We help each other. We love each other.

Since then we’ve seen the Pulse shooting. We’ve seen half a dozen years of Pride. We’ve seen job discrimination outlawed. I’ve fallen in and out of love and back into it again. I’ve met spectacular women and men and non-binary and agender folks that have taught me the beauty of the spectrum of human expressions of gender and sexuality and love. It’s made me a better person. I’m more understanding, more empathetic, more open. I wouldn’t trade this community, or this experience of myself for anything.

Gay and proud (most of the time…)

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT SEXUAL ASSAULT.

I always had feelings for girls, probably from the age of 9, when I really fancied a girl in S club 7, when all my friends fancied J from Five! haha.
However I went to a school where the word gay was never even mentioned, I had no idea it existed or what it was. I don’t even think it was mentioned in sex ed. I kinda just left it at the back of my mind and didn’t hook up with a girl until I was 20, when I left to go travelling to Australia and walked passed Mardi Gras, which is the most amazing pride I have ever been to. This all started up my curiosity as I realised there were soooo many people who I could relate to, and kissing a girl for the first time felt amazing.
I used to think I was Bi, I didn’t ever think that I was a lesbian as nooo that can’t be me, I’m going to have a ‘normal’ life with a husband and children, however I have never actually enjoyed being with a man. My mum still thinks and hopes I am Bi. I have been sexually abused twice by men so she thinks that I am too scared to be with men, which could be true but it kind of hurts that she doesn’t just accept that I am gay. I now know I am just full on gay and that my past trauma has nothing to do with my sexuality. I was born gay, as was my brother and my cousin. We are all out to our families and friends (my best friend always knew I was gay, coming out to her was the most fantastic experience with the love she gave me) and my brother is marrying his partner when covid allows, I am hoping to find a date for the occasion who I can eventually marry myself and also maybe children 🙂
I know I am in an amazingly privileged position as I live in a country where being gay is celebrated, not condemned. I really hope over time that these countries will make it legal to be gay, there are some charities out there helping and I am trying to raise awareness of them.

Thompkell (she/her)

I have a vivid memory of walking home from school when I was 13 years old. Where my steady footsteps on the pavement, the soft weight of my backpack, and the gentle warmth of afternoon sunshine created the conditions for my mind to wander to romantic curiosities about one of my best friends – a girl (like me). The memory doesn’t stay with me as a milestone for my first gay thought (which I’m not even sure would be accurate), but it hovers because of the innocence that emerged when I remember telling myself afterwards with a playful shrug – “I’m sure everyone has thoughts like this.”

Whether or not more people ever do feel a pull to kiss their same-sex friends, my experience was that it was unsafe to consider – so forget talk about – that this desire could be any part of my truth. But there was something enchanting about the tension that I then began to experience as I felt called to acknowledge this part of myself.

I had to make a choice.

So instead of pulling myself together – I split and divided core facets of my being to maintain an illusion of a “normal” life and to hide the pieces I was not ready to accept.

The division, as one might expect, led to secrecy and a dynamic where I could only find true happiness in controlled, private, and hidden spaces. Escapism and disconnection. And, as if to further confuse my inherent sense of self and intuition, my friend – who I had imagined kissing – ended up playing in these shadows with me. We “dated” in the later years of high school – a secret we kept from literally everyone else in our lives. But where we were each coming from, at our cores, wasn’t aligned. She would cycle through boyfriends and force a hard separation from our day life and our shadowed life. I started living a life so empty on the surface – craving the time in the shadows – that I became numb to who I was spending time with when it wasn’t her.

I lost my centre.
I lost my own personal sense of who I was since I was craving to exist in the only one place I permitted and allowed myself to connect to what I was truly feeling.

Eventually it became too much to maintain the separation between the two lives. When I had approached her with the confession – that what I felt in the shadows was something I wanted to share with the light – I was met with hostility and denial. This would start a dysfunctional pattern of dismissing my own needs for those I love. How can you develop any sense of confidence in yourself when the person you care about most and feel you can be your truest self with is ashamed of who you are? Can look you right in your eyes, speak directly to your heart and tell you that who you are and what you feel is wrong?

But perhaps the biggest hurt was to realize that we did not feel the same way about what we were experiencing. That the space we had created together was starkly unsafe for me to feel the way I felt.
My world began to collapse.

I had separated an incredibly significant piece of my identity from the rest of my experience, and since I had defined my happiness based on how worthy I was in someone else’s eyes, my core became a void. Who was I? An emptiness emerged from the gaping hole that I had been filling with validation from others – validation I did not recognize I needed to be seeking from myself first. And when the sadness shifted to numbness it became an exceedingly difficult vibration to move out of – especially when fear and shame took control.

Then in the swirl of sadness, shame, confusion, loss, and uncertainty – the emergent realization that maybe I am gay snapped any remaining stability out from under me. To be this way wasn’t safe, especially if my love won’t be reciprocated, wasn’t enough, or was to be used as a weapon to demonize me. I couldn’t trust myself if this kind of happiness also meant so much harm.

But what is a “coming out story”?

I would love to say that this was the lowest point of my life through this journey – but that isn’t the case. I would also love for this to have been the moment that I accepted and acknowledged my place in the LGBTQ2IA+ community – but that isn’t true either. It would take many years to get to where I am today, and maybe I will always be going through the process of coming out and deepening my self acceptance.

What is the case though, truly, is that as I have found more self acceptance, the people in my life and the world (I believe) have also been finding softer hearts and raising their levels of acceptance, awareness, and love – consciously and subconsciously. And I genuinely believe that we will only get better. We will only love more. We will only build on and grow our collective kindness and compassion.

And, at least based on my experience, I deeply believe all of this is possible through the simple, challenging work of each of us turning inwards towards ourselves – first – and lovingly embracing all of who we are.

Change doesn’t need to be a light switch – but trust that lights shine their brightest in the dark.

Thank you for creating this space for us to share. Thank you for starting this wave of change and inspiration. Thank you for your sincerity and courage.
xo

Bisexual

This isn’t really the most interesting coming out story in the world but I thought I’d contribute my story anyway.
I figured out that I was attracted to girls in the seventh grade. It wasn’t so much a “Oh shit! I like girls! I’m not straight!” as it was a “Oh, so the magnitude of my fixation on *insert any female actress* is NOT experienced by everyone”. However, I didn’t really process what that information meant until one of my classmates had offhandedly mentioned that she had a girlfriend and that she identified as a lesbian. Now don’t get me wrong, I knew that people could like someone of the same gender identity, but the meaning behind being queer held no weight to me until someone put a label onto it. It sort of clicked in a way that made me realize that maybe I was bisexual. Because of that realization, I did the obvious thing and took hundreds of “What is my sexuality?” quizzes and found solidarity and comfort among the dozens of famous or slightly relevant LGBTQ+ Youtube videos and Youtube series’ that were available in 2014.
Before my descent down the rabbit hole that is the numerous quality LGBTQ+ media available to the public, I decided to come out to one of my former best friends. She did not realize that was trying to come out to her, and I had to come out to her again 4 years later.
It took me 2 years after I had realized that I wasn’t straight to actually come out to someone, 1 year to feel comfortable with a label, and like 1 month to decide that- if someone asked me what my sexuality was- I would tell them the truth. So basically, it took 2 years for one of my other best friends to outright ask me if I was asexual before I could say that I was pan/bi. It took me a year after that to come out to my best friend since elementary school. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to hide my sexuality from her as it was that it wasn’t something I wanted to be defined by, nor was it the most important detail about me. Despite my resolve to just come out to her if I ended up liking someone who happened to have the same gender identity as me, I panic texted her. This was after a friend of ours asked me if I was straight while my best friend was sitting there with us. I ended up giving that friend a roundabout answer and then came out officially to my best friend at midnight over text.
Now, I am luck enough to not experience extreme homophobia directed at myself and I am extremely lucky to be, and have been, friends with open-minded and accepting people, so I didn’t really consciously feel internalized homophobia/biphobia until years after I realized that I was indeed NOT straight. I didn’t feel that way until I was asked by my mom to warn her if I happened to be attracted to a girl or, better yet, just not like girls at all. Because of that, I grew conscious of the underlying yet ever-present homophobia found in my relative’s uninformed opinions about the LBGTQ+ community. I wasn’t afraid that my family would disown me or stop loving me, but I became afraid that I would have to compromise who I am in order not be seen as an outlier by my aunts and uncles. Honestly, I was more afraid because I wasn’t sure how my parents would react. I ended up hiding who I am from both my parents and my older sister, who I knew didn’t care and didn’t hold the same “traditionalist” values that my extended family and my parents did. I was too afraid that, if I told her, my parents and extended family would somehow find out. I made the same resolve that I had made before with my elementary school best friend: I would just casually introduce my girlfriend to her when I eventually started to actually date girls (or people in general). That, however, did not happen. Instead, I came out to her when she asked me how I identified while we were watching Bon Appetit Youtube videos.
These aren’t the only coming out stories that I have, and I definitely didn’t elaborate on every detail, but these were the moments that actually held some importance to me. Each time I came out to someone that held/holds an extreme amount of importance to my life, none of it went as planned. I had to take a leap of faith and trust that I was loved enough that, a detail about who I was, wasn’t going to change how my friends and family viewed me. I’m still not out to the rest of my family, but knowing that I didn’t have anything to hide from my sister lifted a weight I didn’t even know I had on me. Even without me coming out, my parents have started to become more welcome to the idea that girls like girls and that’s okay.
Just having even one person to talk to, who knew I liked girls, helped me to become even more comfortable with my sexuality. Without the positive LGBTQ+ representation in the media, I would have felt alone before I even knew what I identified as. I was okay with my sexuality until I wasn’t, but, even then, I had enough support to continue to take leaps of faith.
I don’t think there’s really a right way to come out, nor do I know when the right time to come out is. However, I do think that having even one person (whether it’s someone online or someone you know in real life) know and support you for who you are is by far the most freeing thing in the world.
I’m out and proud to the people that I get to choose to include in my life, and I am so excited to see the world continually progress and become a more accepting place (with better LGBTQ+ and PoC representation in mainstream media)

Still Human

I have known I was different since I was in 6th grade, I am now a freshman in their second semester of university.I always remember being the odd one out because I didn’t find people “hot”, I even dated a guy whom I thought of just as a friend simply because I didn’t want people ever questioning me. I live in a country where being myself is illegal, where people like me are shunned and bullied at school, and religion played a big role in that. The first person I came out to was my best friend, this was during spring break of senior year in high school,I was so nervous to tell her not because I thought she would hate me but because I knew how religious her family was after all her father taught my Religions(I’m not mentioning which religion because I don’t want people attacking any religion)class, even then I couldn’t say the words in person I sent her the longest message then I closed my phone and didn’t look at it for hours, she was actually pretty chill about it. The second person I came out to was to an openly bisexual student at my high school, I didn’t even know her that well but I trusted her and out of solidarity I came out. I came out to my sisters the summer before my first semester at university, my younger sister didn’t quite understand but she was chill, when I told my older sister she came out to me which was awesome.

Then flash forward to club showcase at my university my sister and I are walking around pointing out clubs we want to join then my sister grabs my hand and leads me to a table that has changed my life. My university had an LGBT+ club and I joined. Everyone was welcome in the club and I felt like I had found my home. No one ever asked me what I identified as we just all talked, laughed and accepted one another. I consider myself aspec and as someone who uses micro-labels to specific I identify as a demiromantic demisexual. When I came out to my club they were accepting even though the aspec community is a known, some of them didn’t know what asexual or aromantic meant but they were willing to learn. At that point I still identified as a female but I felt wrong in my own skin. Winter break I came out to my mother as demisexual and she told me that it wasn’t a real thing but she accepted me whatever that means so at that point I decided maybe I would not tell her anything ever again. I went online and found other people going through the same thing and decided I would do something. So at first I used ace bandages which is NOT recommended no one should do that. Then I finally ordered some binders and tried them I had never felt more myself. Now I was stuck in the situation of having to come out again but this time as non-binary. I started by telling m friends who were in the club then I just told the whole club. I tried to tell my sister but turns out not everyone in the community is inclusive and that just made me so sad. My mother got made when she found my binders and confiscated them luckily I have good friends who ordered more for me. I would leave my apartment go to a campus bathroom then put on a binder. Still my friends accepted they immediately used my pronouns they/them and corrected people who still used she’her they were considerate when I struggled to pick a new name for myself because I felt my birth name was not my own.

As someone who hasn’t seen people like myself on TV or online in general I thought I was messed up that there was something wrong with me. I found myself online with people who are so accepting, the ace and aro community were so willing to help me find myself, and I did. Maybe I’ll come out to my family maybe I won’t but I found my real family and they know me and accept me. So I’m writing this in hopes that it will help someone not feel alone, because as Dominique said out is the new in. I am OUT.

Gay (lesbian)

By pure chance I came across some videos on YouTube that brought me to Dominique’s profile and read this incredible post. Everything I have read has inspired me, I have felt identified and has made me wonder about so many things in my life.

I am 28 years old and since I was 12 or 14 years old I was attracted to women, men only saw them as friends, despite feeling all this I only dated men.

At the age of 22 I decided to stop and accept myself, accept that it was impossible for me to have sex with men and I did not see myself with any of them. I sat down with my best friends and told everything I had hidden until that day, it should be noted that my best friends are gay and I was still afraid. My friends understood.

Today with 28 years, I still feel that I am afraid to talk about it with other people, even my family does not know it, this has brought me problems of having a relationship as I would really like to have it. I am patient with myself and with the stages of my life.

This post has made me think and reevaluate my values, my passions, my whole life, rethink what I want and it has let me know that I have neglected a part of me that feels imprisoned. I want to be happy.

Bisexual

When I was a kid, I was told a very narrow and close minded story about how women are only supposed to love men. Backed with the fear of that narrow thought, I pushed aside how I felt about other girls my entire life. I remember being small and having a best friend and loving her in such a deep and profound way and not knowing what it meant, being fearful of what it meant because I was told that I was supposed to love a boy the way I knew I loved my friend. As I got older, my parents began to change and became more understanding about what love means because I’ve tried to explain it to them and make sure they know that love is genuine no matter what gender you are or how you choose to identify. Last year, with nerves and fear, I finally told my mom that I like girls. I’m still attracted to guys but that just means I’m comfortable with and identify with being a bisexual female. My mom was way more accepting than I thought she would be. She told me that no matter who I love, she just wants me to be with someone who loves me as much as she knows I would love them. And my dad, who was my biggest fear ( he raised me very strictly before he began to see things in a different, more accepting way) told me that I’m his daughter and as long as I’m happy, then that’s all that matters. I realize that my story is much lighter than others. I see my brothers and sisters ( non-binary sibs too of course!) struggle and suffer to be free and I am with them. I love them. Every single one of them. I hope that you can find the peace and tranquility that you deserve to be your most authentic self. You are SO SO loved by me, by everyone in this community that is based on true, real, and authentic love. Thank you for allowing me to share.