I need to start by saying that my story is a cliché, I usually refer to it that way. But I think the good thing about clichés is that they reach people with a lot of truth, because it’s also the story of a lot of people. So come on.
I am the daughter of separated parents and grew up in a poor community in northeastern Brazil. My parents split up when I was months old and my mother ended up raising me without my father’s help. I lived until my adolescence at my maternal grandmother’s house together with my mother and an uncle. And after that my mother had a partner with whom we went to live for a few years.
It started when I started walking. My mom says that when I started taking my first steps I started going to church. At less than two years old I started going to church. I just went in there and sat down, nobody took me. Even my mother, my grandmother and my uncle I lived with, nobody went to church and in fact they didn’t even like it very much. As it is very hot here most of the year, I would leave the house wearing panties and flip-flops and enter the church at any time, all that was needed was for the door to be open.
The first person I attracted me romantically was my Bible school teacher, I must have been about 8 years old. I didn’t know what I called that feeling, I just know that I wanted to be close to her, touch her, watch her and try to somehow look like her or imitate her in some things. In parallel, I was absorbing and learning about sin, guilt and hell. As I grew up, both things became part of me, and as a teenager I had my affective experiences, both with boys and girls. And then at that time I stopped attending church.
From there, I started to get interested and research about possible theories and explanations to understand this concept so complex that it is sexuality. I consumed materials from both psychological science, biology and the animal kingdom as well as theories of the Christian segment. Despite feeling trapped and suffocated in that search, I really believed in God and wanted to find positive answers in all of that.
When I turned 18 I went back to church, got baptized and tried my best to get close to God. I started to be part of that community. I joined the music and communication group, made myself available to help with various activities, dedicated a part of my salary to deliver to the church every month and help with other campaigns. Sometimes I arrived before the doorman and left with him. I read the Bible a lot, the most complex and contradictory texts, I searched for the original language to understand the most accurate possible translation, I bought several study bibles and biblical dictionaries, I read books and everything else you can imagine.
In parallel to that, at the age of 20 I entered the faculty of Psychology, and then I thought: now I will learn and discover many things about the human being, his interactions and his behavior. So I will seek to study and learn about God in the same way, in an attempt to balance things out.
But, before talking about everything I lived and learned in college, I need to talk about my faith. I really believed in God. I really enjoyed being part of the church and belonging to a community. I learned many good things there and many of the things I learned with faith helped me to become what I am today and of whom I am very proud. A lot of that universe is really part of me. I met people that I can say that made a lot of difference in my life and helped me when I had several problems and difficulties, and who are by my side today.
Despite these things that I see as positive, there were so many others that hurt me too much. There were so many jokes, comments … I saw people being removed and expelled from their activities and positions in the church because of their sexuality. People who had to undergo various rituals and procedures of deprivation of so many things so that they could participate again. I was really reflective on how this topic was always prominent in the church. I heard several messages about it, so many damn jokes that even today I can clearly hear the pastor’s voice in my head with so much irony. It hurt, it really hurt.
I started to think about these parallel universes that may exist, like the one in the church, that managed to make me feel small and insignificant, because it seemed that I couldn’t be part of it, even though it seemed to be a very big place, it didn’t have a little space for me. Maybe this sounds familiar. This environment, ideas can even look like something very sophisticated and sometimes I thought that there was only this universe and that I needed to fit in some way, because it was the only one I could see.
Unfortunately environments, like churches, companies and even the family can compose an environment that is not good for us and then we need to find ours, because trying to fit in can hurt us and collaborate so that we become someone else or the worst, let to be who we are. And if there is no such place, we may need to create one. I will not lie, it is not easy. But we can find people and many other resources to help us. I found many things, I will tell you.
So in college, as you might imagine, it was a long way, from learning, acquiring repertoires about various ways of existing and living. I developed the ability to listen and observe and so many others that promote health and well-being. In my profession I learned about welcoming, understanding and caring. I realized that feelings like guilt and all the actions that can increase this feeling lead to psychic discomfort, mental disorders like depression and even suicide. I learned about relationships and so many other contributions that helped me understand social movements and other such interactions. I learned that the human being is powerful and that there is a potential for transformation. I learned concepts like equity, empowerment, autonomy, and that these being present in the logic of social interaction
can bring so much freedom and quality of life to people and result in changing paradigms and transforming worlds. Ah, I learned a lot that made me and still has made me more human, too human.
At the same time that I was learning so many things about what was human and what makes us human, I was looking for God. I searched, searched and searched. I looked in the bible, in the church, in retreats, camps and vigils but I didn’t find Him in any of these places. And then I started to arrive at the following conclusion: that the relationship with the divine is something so personal that it is certainly within us. I started to search within myself for the relationship I was looking for and approached an idea of spiritual independence. Gradually and with a lot of reflection, therapy and self-care I have sought to improve myself as a person and in my relationships and to reformulate my faith.
But it is in fact a conflict. A conflict occurs when two opposing forces point in the same direction, such as: I have a desire for women, being a woman at the same time that I do everything to make sure that doesn’t happen, because I believe I can’t or that it’s wrong. It’s confusing and it hurts a lot, I know. This can be a sexual conflict, and there are still many others. But we can overcome them.
I learned and I am still learning that life is almost never a dichotomy, it is almost never right and wrong, good or bad, black and white, it is diverse, it is colorful and it is infinite. I usually say that since there are more than 7 billion people in the world, there must certainly be more than 7 billion possibilities and ways of being, of existing and of loving. Among so many possibilities, we don’t have to choose between two. I believe that we will not always need to choose one over the other. It is possible to find a middle ground, a balance. I did not leave my faith to live my sexuality nor the other way around, I am working to find a way to live with both of them because these two instances of life, like so many others, make up who I am and made me get here. We don’t need to deny or renounce who we are since this does not hurt us nor does it hurt others. There are several parallel universes, we will all find one. My faith also consists of this, being part of a possible universe for all forms of existence and it also helps me to produce a sense of life and living.
Now start the process of sharing with my friends about who I am and have already found a community here where I am accepted. Gradually and gradually, in my time I have gone less to the church I have been attending for almost 8 years and integrating into another community. I have been practicing spiritual independence. Also therapy, yoga and many hot baths. My wish is that everyone can find in themselves infinite reasons to be proud and sensitive and positive ways of relating in an identical way, so that from then on they can start transforming the place they live in into a proper environment for our identity and as these relationships and interactions.
My best hug!
I first started questioning my sexuality when I was 11. My grandma had just passed and I was severely depressed. I realised that I liked dressing more masculine, and in what I know see was a way too hide that I was gay, I decided that I was probably trans. I started going by the name Sam and started wanting to cut my hair. I even tried to bind my chest (in very unsafe ways) and I thought that I was depressed because I had gender dysphoria. After about a year I realised that I was just really fucking gay. So, I decided to lived my truth in a very homophobic school and it was the best choice I ever made.
I started coming out at twelve by mentioning it slightly in conversations, mostly by denying attraction to boys rather than admitting my love for women.
This year i turned 15 and after two gay relationships and after being out for three years Im still uncomfortable with my sexuality. I hate to say it and I wish it wasn’t like that, but my class mates and and the society we live in has pushed the ‘predatory lesbian’ stereotype on me for so long that it’s hard to forget.
I’ve recently decided that I will try to wear my pride bracelet in a way of showing who I am with out having to say something. And most importantly it serves as a small reminder for me that, no matter what my classmates say, being gay is 100% okay and that I’m so fucking proud of being a part of this community.
As a queer woman, I have many coming out stories. The fumbling time I came out to my parents in a pharmacy parking lot, the time I drunkenly sobbed it to my best friend at a bar while an 80s cover band performed Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me” in the background, the multiple times I came out to myself.
I first realized I might not be totally straight when I was in college. Sure, I had been attracted to other girls before, but I marked it up to general admiration. Everyone had thoughts like this, right? It was during my junior year in 2009 that I noticed a girl waiting in the corridor for our class to begin. There was nothing ordinarily special about her, but the way she carried herself captivated me. So, I kept an eye out for that girl, thinking maybe I wanted to be friends with her. She was sporting a baseball cap with the horrible baseball team I cheer for. That’s enough to want to be friends, right? The semesters changed and I didn’t give much thought to the mysterious girl whom I never ended up talking to; though I continued to work my part-time job at a queer owned deli, telling myself I was just an enthusiastic ally.
As fate would have it, who walked into my senior thesis course the following semester? Why, none other than baseball cap girl! Since there were only six of us in the class, we all got familiar, and for the sake of anonymity, let’s name her Kate. Kate and I became fast friends and the need to be near her became too much to ignore. It was like my true self was festering under the surface, but all the years of my small town, conservative upbringing made me scared of what the outcome would be if I let this part of myself out.
In coming to terms with my sexuality, I did what I always do when I don’t know an answer: RESEARCH. I scoured the internet for any helpful articles, I even got books from the library on human sexuality. I searched for representation in the media to little avail. I wanted to find stories like these, from real people who knew the struggle of accepting yourself. I was lost and confused but finally said the words “I’m gay” to myself, out loud.
Meeting Kate was a “click” moment for me. She was the one who turned the light on in corners of my brain and heart that I was trying to suppress. She came into my life abruptly, threw me for a loop and for that, I am forever in her debt. Though the story between the two of us is a phantom for another day, I will always be thankful to this woman and cherish my memories with her because she helped me see my true self.
Personally, I have never been a fan of labels. I don’t like to be put in a box when there are so many little things that make every one of us unique. I never really referred to myself as a lesbian, but that is what most people I know decided to categorize me under. Again, I don’t care for labels, so I never really minded. Then, a few months ago, I was cleaning up at the bar I work at with a coworker. We were having a pint while sweeping the floors when we started a candid conversation about the queer community. He is an open-minded straight cisgender man, so I honestly answered any of his queries to the best of my ability. It was in this conversation with a friend, that I came out once more, but this time as queer. I told him that though I usually prefer women, I would never close myself off to the opportunity of being with someone based on their gender.
So, in closing, much like the world around us, we are never done evolving. You are allowed to be a work in progress. You are allowed to readjust your labels. You are allowed to unapologetically be who you are, because who you are is beautiful and more than enough. No matter how you identify, you are deserving of all the fucking love in the world. <3 AM
My story is one that never ends, its an endless cyclone of fear and misery, a tale is old as time. Living in a religious Hispanic household restricted me from, well.. being anyone i wanted to be. Being the youngest of seven siblings i didn’t have much choice in the matter when it came to expressing my true self, at an early age i knew i was different. Well so did my favorite Aunt, she was more of a mother to me then my actual one, she looked after me when my parents were away for years working in the city. But my first coming out story began in the summer of ’04, when something inside me awakened. I couldn’t turn to my family with it in fear of instant rejection or judgement or even isolating me from the world, so to practice I told a lie to my best friend at the time to see her reaction to the news, i said ” i was playing with the girl next door and some how we ended up kissing, I didn’t know how I felt about it but I might try it again, what do you think?” her response was priceless, she asked if I was gay now, I said no of course not I’ve had boyfriends in the past, she went on to say its ok if you are, just live your life ill support you and what every you decide. Now mind you we were like 9 years old, they stuck to me. from then on, I became a little more confident and bolder in my social surrounding such as school and eventually work. until one day my aunt asked me, “Kay do you like girls?” I was utterly shocked, for I thought no member in my family suspected it, I turned red with embarrassment first rejecting the question, but I looked at my Aunts face which showed nothing but kindness and I finally had that courage and said it out loud YES! An honest to goodness Wave of relief washed over me I felt flushed, but she said shes always known but waited for me to come to her but my fear was too deep she knew I never would. We sat up that whole night talking about every minut detail, she helped me feel accepted, loved and supported. I became a little bolder a few days later my older sister called me to ask if I was Gay I said I was a lesbian yes, but being called gay or lesbian never sat right with me I mean I like girls so being called lesbian insinuated I was only female, I knew I was born a girl but I also liked when strangers would mistake me for a boy, so i sot the advice and consul of others like me to put a name to who I was as a person, coming across label as “Gender-Fluid Queer” it described me to the “T” so thats how i described myself to my brothers and friends and yea stranger to if asked. Now the dark part of all this, my dearest loving Aunt passed, and my father left us, I was left with the one person I was most terrified of. My religious headstrong Mother, I alone watch over her none of my siblings want nothing to do with her I am all she has, til this day she still does not know or is in denial. She is now a fragile woman, so in fear of hurting her I say nothing, cowardly I know, I’ve tried many times over they years to tell her but just when I finally think I have the nerve to fess up , I chicken out. Its a fear that paralyzes me from having a social life anymore, going out on dates or meeting anyone. I’ve lived with this weight on my chest for 20 years, so to take care of me and separate myself from her negativity I have taken up therapy to cope with this weight. Hopefully in due time I can work on my true authentic self and have the courage to tell her as I’ve done many times over!
Hopefully you can find a silver lining in my story and if you have a similar story just know your not alone!
Thank you for reading
Much Love!
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.
Being queer is something I have always been. But before I discovered this gorgeous term, I just always said to myself, “I’m me, and that’s it”.
Before I knew I was gay, I didn’t know much about labels. Growing up, I never saw the benefits of placing myself into categories. It felt too forced as if I wasn’t given a choice in the matter.
Ever since I remember, I have always been drawn to women. When I was a child, I had no understanding of attraction but throughout these years, whenever I watched something on TV or socialised with others, it was other girls who I felt pulled towards.
Willow from Buffy, Root from Person of Interest to Rose from Doctor Who, I had multiple fangirl obsessions. But because of the society that we live in, heteronormativity dominated the classroom and playground.
All of the other girls appeared to only like boys whereas I only saw them as friends or even brothers. Amongst the confusion, I kept saying to myself, “well, I’m just me” and that’s okay. Yet I didn’t talk about my feelings to my family. I was too scared.
Skipping ahead to 2016, I was off to university and at this point, I knew more about the LGBTQ+ community and sexuality. But I still didn’t ask myself where I fit in the rainbow spectrum.
Looking back, I was in denial.
I kept remembering moments where I had friends who were boys. When they said they wanted to be my boyfriend, I knew in my gut that I never wanted it to happen. But then I thought, it might just be these boys you don’t like, you might like others
So as I got older, I remembered men that I had met at social gatherings and went through the same process. I tried to picture myself being intimate with them. It felt so wrong. But when I imagined the same scenario with another woman, I felt immense joy and happiness bubble up inside me. It felt so right and so beautiful.
Over time and with the help of some of my favourite fictional queer characters (thank you Willow Rosenberg and Alex Danvers), I felt ready to come out.
The first person I told was my amazing sister. I knew she wouldn’t have any difficulty accepting this part of me because she, in fact, already knew.
Apparently, I suck at keeping my queerness hidden. Which I am really proud of. Maybe even my younger self knew I didn’t need to be afraid.
So far, so good, my sister was supportive as any sibling could be. Next, were my friends but this felt more casual. There was no big announcement. When the right moment came along, I just said, “I only like women” or “Yep, I’m a lesbian”. Thankfully, I have wonderfully loving friends and some are also queer.
The two people I was felt most nervous to tell was my mum and grandma. We aren’t a religious family but they have made comments about queer folk in the past that has made me uncomfortable.
Regardless of my trepidation and fear, I knew I had to embrace my authenticity and start living for myself. So I sent my Mum a text. She said she didn’t know I was attracted to other women but that it didn’t matter. She didn’t love me any differently.
And my Nan, well, I never actually said to her, “I’m gay”. When I told her I had someone and her name was Sophie, she didn’t even bat an eyelid, she just carried on with her day. I love that response because that’s how I believe it should be. Being queer needs to be normalised in society. Why should we have to announce, “This is me, I am coming out.. as myself”.
It feels wrong to me that we should even have to reveal or announce our sexual or gender identity. I want to live in a world where people don’t fear difference but embrace and cherish it. Where we can be accepted and loved.
Since I came out, my life has been transformed and I fully accept that being queer is one of the most beautiful parts of myself. I am living authentically, with grace, gratitude, joy, compassion and empathy.
I believe when we live authentically, the Earth falls into balance and we become ONE with every being in the universe.
I guess I always knew way back when I was a kid, but I had no idea what it was and why I felt that way. I just wasn’t what was deemed “normal”. I started acknowledging it for myself as I was going through adolescence and all throughout college and then sort of embraced it after graduation. But to be honest, I still don’t feel safe or free – as I wish I could be – to declare my truth. To some I am able to tell them, while to most I keep quiet… either way, I am never without fear of being rejected or seen differently, like I become a different person from the one they’ve come to know as soon as I confirm what they probably already thought. I still fear that I will never be taken seriously professionally or deserving of the same respect as a person just because of who I am. I am still afraid but I am also hopeful that one day, I’d get there – where I am free to just be me and no longer afraid.
I’ve always liked science and reading about anything and everything I could. I grew up as a very curious kid, and was mix of sporty and bookworm. I loved structure and the sense of control that sports gave me. But what I was never able to achieve was to be feminine enough to be seen as a traditional girl and of course I was not a boy either. I was once again a dycotomy, and that mix in my gender expression translated for over fifteen years in being a loner. I love learning and as much as reading about society and history makes me passionate, I came to recognize that I had been avoiding knowing about myself, my truth self. For years I tried to model my behaviour and looks to fit into some image others had created of me and I was so thirsty to fullfill, specially what I thought my parents wanted me to be. I admit now that I was scared of the knowledge that was already deep inside me: I liked girls. The simple thought of it felt to me like I was flirting with something that was out of my reach. I tried to numb it during my teen age years until I relapsed into an episode of severe depression. Now I wonder how many years of deep sadness I could have avoided if I had listened to myself instead of letting the outside noise damp my own voice. I have always known I am gay. Proof of that is how many times I had crushes with female superheroes (Hallee Berry as Storm in XMen was maybe my first) and how many times I craved to be more similar to certain strong female figures (like Ronda Rousy). The knowledge was always there, waiting for me to open that chapter of my own life. My self-acceptance felt like washing my worries away while getting soaked in pouring rain: cleansing and comforting. Then came my very first real relationship with some girl I met in college that quickly morphed into a psychologically violent relationship. It still stings to think of myself as an intimate partner violence survivor as well as a sexual assault survivor. I failed to protect myself because I focused on filling an image that wasn’t my own. Now as I work as a therapist and have made peace with my past I wonder, how many other queer kids like me are in a greater danger to be hurt because they feel the need to hide? How many adults grow up as broken humans because they get denied the chance to shine in their own light? I mourn for the queer kid I was. For that little girl who loved sports and to dress like a boy, who loved climbing trees and wanted more than anything to be able to be the red Power Ranger instead of the pink one. I mourn for all the queer kids like me who are still waiting to shine. If one of you is reading this I can tell you, it gets better, you are loved and wanted just as you are. I finally made peace, I am in a relationship sith a wonderful woman who showed me her acceptance and love to my truth self when she looked for sciencey facts that she knew would make me happy to know. Now in my ribs shines my tattoo with the first fun fact she looked for me: Sunsets on Mars are blue.
I am not longer afraid of knowing myself completely: I am a therapist, still love science, I love sports, I still dress a lot of times more masculine. I am a gay woman and proud. I am loved. I am valid. I am wanted. I belong.
So if you are still seeking, still waiting, if you feel alone I tell you this: I got your back, always, I am your family now. You are wanted, you are loved, please keep shining with your own light.
I guess I always knew way back when I was a kid, but I had no idea what it was and why I felt that way. I just wasn’t what was deemed “normal”. I started acknowledging it for myself as I was going through adolescence and all throughout college and then sort of embraced it after graduation. But to be honest, I still don’t feel safe or free – as I wish I could be – to declare my truth. To some I am able to tell them, while to most I keep quiet… either way, I am never without fear of being rejected or seen differently, like I become a different person from the one they’ve come to know as soon as I confirm what they probably already thought. I still fear that I will never be taken seriously professionally or deserving of the same respect as a person just because of who I am. I am still afraid but I am also hopeful that one day, I’d get there – where I am free to just be me and no longer afraid.
