Community Rainbow Waves

Lesbian-Gender Warrior-Relationship Anarchist-Eco Rebel

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT SELF-HARMING BEHAVIOUR AND SUICIDE.

I usually do not write on any type of website like this but found myself encouraged to do so here.
I knew I was different since I was 6 years old. I did not have a name for it, and I grew up in a strict Catholic environment so forget asking any type of questions. It was not, until high school that I was exposed to the concept of gayness through homophobic remarks toward someone who had graduated. As I realized I might be gay the local college library became my haven for information or should I say misinformation. There were no role models or mentors. All information stated being gay was a mental illness. I did not see myself anywhere in the world, my home was not supportive, and I felt alone in the world. The result left me depressed, isolated, and feeling ashamed of who I was.
This left my young adult years coming out as a lesbian fraught with self-doubt and battles inherent in the cultural norms of the 70’s. I suffered the wounds of alcohol/drug misuse, suicide attempts, rejection from family, dysfunctional romantic entanglements as well as harassment and discrimination from the world around me. One of the worse being the murder of a friend for being LGBTQ.
And yet these experiences built a resilience in me that offered a guide to my own awakening. To remember who I really was and discover my voice. After Charlie was killed the dam broke and I came out all over the place. It was then I became an activist and educator around LGBT+ and diversity issues in higher education. I did not want anyone to experience what I had as a young adult. Thank god for gay bars and dances, as I found sanctuary in the only places to be out and safe.
As the 80’s and 90’s went by it was during my work on college campuses that another layer of my closeted life peeled away. Supporting young adults would in turn give me permission to acknowledge I am a non-binary queer woman. All along, I had thought since I was clear about my sex as assigned by birth, I could not be trans. This was my mistake and the personal work I had done prior assisted me in stepping into the acceptance of a deeper awareness of who I was. Gender queer.
So here I am a 64-year-old lesbian gender queer woman continuing to stand in a place of opening to the soul of who I am. All those years impacted by trials of the world’s norms and judgments contributed to a lack of confidence in my ability to know love and I longed desperately to experience it. During the last twenty years I became a Druid Priest of nature and dived into the guidance of my dreams as a path to healing and wholeness. To find and heal the darkness which clouded my access to feeling love. The land is so forgiving and calls to all of us to remember the heart of who we are as one planet, one being, and we need each other to survive and thrive. In listening to spirit I have now been guided to creating Dreaming Back to Earth. This is the gift of opening my heart.
Unexpectedly along the way of remembering I have become a relationship anarchist believing there is no hierarchy, state of control, or norms that drive loving and being loved with others and in community. It is a beautiful reflection of how to live within this earthly planet. And my dreams have offered the guidance to remember this within my soul and body. The key is to be willing and open to challenge my beliefs, face my traumas and open my heart to love in all its forms. This is some of my story.
Every day, I learn and shift. I am not perfect in the process and have made mistakes. I am not done, never will be. What a life. Thank you.

90% Gay

I have known all my life I was attracted to girls. My first memory was telling my mom when I was 4, that I liked my sister’s girl friends. My mother has been aware of my sexuality since I was born. She claims that all my relatives told her that judging by the shape of the belly, I was for sure a boy… well, they weren’t wrong nor right.

In my younger years it was weird. I used to dress like a boy, play sports and so on, so girls wouldn’t be my friends and boys weren’t comfortable with me, because I’m a girl.

When I was a teenager, I changed schools and I was determined to fit and have friends. So I began to embrace my feminine side.

It wasn’t until University that I realized I could be a women attracted to an other women because I met a bunch of gay people.

However, the process was tortuous because I couldn’t face that reality. And I had fought so hard to be “normal”. So it took me a couple of boyfriends to call it quits and stop hiding from me and my feelings.

However, no one except my sister and my mom knew I was gay.

One sunny day I met this girl and I fell madly in love with her. The feelings were so strong, I just couldn’t hide it. One little detail. She was straight. But I will always thank her because, to be able to process all I was feeling for her, I came out to almost everyone in my life.

A year later I met my wife and we’ve been together for 8 years.

However, even though I’m a grown ass woman, I haven’t been able to come out to my father’s very religious family.

My parents are very supportive but they are afraid my relatives could make a bad comment so they keep discouraging me to come out to them. I feel a heavy weight on my stomach because of this. I’m looking forward to just be able to be, without fear of my relatives and hurting my parents.

Being 90% gay means that you’ll keep coming out over and over again. In every doctor’s appointment “are you married? What’s your husband’s name?”, meeting a new colleague, and so on.

That slight fear that digs a hole in my chest each and every single time someone asks about my partner, never seems to go away. But that is just 10% of the time. The other 90% I’m just happy I get to love who I want and most of the people, don’t really care what I do on my free time.

Sweet Queer Missy

I knew I was a bit different in high school when my friend had her first boyfriend. I realized I was jealous he got to be her the way I wanted to be with her. This really scared me, and I didn’t talk to anyone about it. I tried dating as many boys as possible to prove nothing was wrong with me. When I went away to college I was blessed to discover an LGBT group on campus. I started going to meetings and became friends with other people like me. I met my first girlfriend shortly after, and experienced my first heartbreak when she broke up with me for a guy. After college I had another stage where I became scared and confused because I found myself attracted to a guy, to a trans woman, feminine women, and tomboys. After seeing sooooo many people now not afraid to live their truth, I am finally comfortable in my own skin and being my true self. I like the term queer because it says I am open to love. I don’t know who that may be with……man, woman, gender fluid…..but I am open to it. Love is love. Thank you to everyone out there shining a beacon of hope for others.

I identify as gay

I was in kindergarten when I first had a crush on a girl and I told my best friend at the time, neither of us thought anything of it at the time because we were young and didn’t know what gay actually meant. After I knew what gay meant I remembered that I had a crush on a girl and I was shocked but calm because I had a lot of queer teachers at my school and I knew that people we’re going I accept me for who I was. It was only 3 years after that in grade 7 when I was at a sleepover with two of my best friends and I told them I wanted them something about my sexuality. I came out as bi to both of them, they so proud and supportive. Five months later I told them I was gay and at another friends birthday I told my entire friend group. Then I later came out to everyone on my Instagram story. Some people thought I was joking but mostly everyone was supportive. I’m trying to build up the courage to come out to my parents because when I told my brother he was very supportive. I’m very fortunate to have a community that’s so supportive of the LGBTQ community and I’m thankful everyday that I don’t have homophobic or toxic people on my life.

Christine H.

When it comes to coming out, there is no such thing as “too late.”

For me, the time came during my sophomore year of college (only two years ago, though it feels like a distant lifetime ago now). Up to that point, I’d scarcely given a thought to my sexuality, let alone my gender. Sure, I’d had friends who’d come out as bisexual and/or nonbinary, I’d had 3 a.m. conversations with these friends about gender and related topics, and I supported those friends and tried to learn about the LGBTQ+ community as best I could, but as far as I knew, I was a cisgender heterosexual guy, and that was that.

Except, of course, it wasn’t.

Coming out, for me, took breaking away from so many of society’s expectations and perceptions of transgender people especially.

In the early months of 2018, the questions started to gnaw away at me, lurking in the back of my mind, ever-present even as I was just trying my best to make it through the rest of the school year in one piece.

Slowly, the questions shifted from “is it possible that I might be a girl?” to “is it okay for me to be a girl?” to “how much do I stand to lose from living my life as a girl?”

As if that struggle weren’t enough, I had to contend with one extra train of thought that complicated matters that much more: “I’m probably a trans girl… but I still like girls.”

There are so many stigmas that society places on transgender people, and what society had taught me was that if you were a trans woman, you had to have figured it out when you were young, you had to be into men, and you had to be as stereotypically girly as possible.

And so I held back. I suppressed as much as I could and tried to go on with my everyday life… until, finally, I couldn’t. The end of sophomore year came, and with nothing else to preoccupy me, the questions drifted back to the front of my mind, and I had no choice but to face them head on.

So, as many of us tend to do in this day and age, I took to the internet looking for answers. Slowly, I started to learn that everything I knew was wrong, and those answers I found smashed through the mental barriers that had held me back.

YES, you can be a trans woman and a lesbian. YES, you don’t have to figure out these things so soon in life. YES, you don’t have to adhere to society’s expectations. YES, you are valid.

By the end of May, I’d come to terms with my transness, though the goals I set for myself changed rapidly. At first, I’d thought I would hold back on coming out and transitioning until later in life… before long, that changed to “within a few years,” which soon gave way to “I’ll come out after I graduate.”

Eventually, I realized time was of the essence, and the last thing I wanted was to look back into my past years down the line and see nothing but regret. Living my life as my true self was the only way forward.

And so I started to make plans. I was going to come out by the end of that summer, and nothing was going to stop me.

I planned my coming out meticulously, because I worried endlessly that my parents, my family, wouldn’t accept me for who I am, that they would try to hold on to their perception of me as their 19-year-old son. I needed to be prepared, and so I took drastic measures. I wrote letters, and I made plans to leave them at home one day and then drive away for a few days to give my family time to take it all in, because I was so scared they would take out their emotions on me.

I remember leaving the letters and a poem explaining all the feelings I’d dealt with over the past months one afternoon in early August, and I remember how long that 90-minute drive to the next state over to stay with a friend felt.

It. Was. Terrifying.

My family’s panicked reactions that first night only made me more scared. I remember the frantic yelling over the phone, I remember the shock my family felt, and above all, I remember the fear I felt, with very few things to take my mind off of it. There was a part of me that worried I would never be able to go home again.

But to my relief, things got better. Within a few days, my family came around. I was able to go back home to a family that resolved that no matter what, they would learn, love me and support me (even if there were things they didn’t quite understand — I still remember the confusion in my dad’s face as he realized I was now a girl who liked girls, which, yes, made me a lesbian), and in the year and a half since my coming out, that hasn’t changed.

I’ve had the chance to well and truly find myself, and I am unabashedly proud to be who I am today. I finally feel like the woman I’m meant to be, and I am so much happier for it.

The road to finding yourself can be a long one, and oftentimes, it can be fraught with struggles, both internal and external. But as I look back at who I used to be and think of how much things have changed for the better in my life since then, I firmly believe traveling down that path has been worth it, and I hope that so many more people will get the chance to take that journey in the days, weeks, months, and years ahead.

The Sovereignty

Trigger warnings: physical and emotional abuse, suicidal thoughts.

The sovereignty I inadvertently created for myself that held me back for so long.
If you’ll catch this tumultuous wave with me, we’ll ride this journey of love, growth, and happiness together.
Note: All humans are extraordinarily amazing and your sexuality is valid. This is simply my story, my experiences/preferences, and my growth.
Growing up in a Roman Catholic household had me seeing church twice a week due to the private school I attended. Button up shirts, plaid skirts, and rosaries in hand. I knew nothing of the LGBTQ+ community nor did I think it was possible to love someone of the same gender.
It wasn’t until I went to a public high school where everything changed for me. I remember this so vividly: I was sitting in the quad with friends and across the way, I saw two beautiful women being intimate with each other. I asked my friends what they were doing and they looked at me so sympathetically. “They’re together,” my friends said.

And that sparked a fire within me; I felt like I might be…different. Back then, there was hardly any positive representation of queer relationships in the media. So I grabbed at anything I could find. I couldn’t turn to my parents because they wanted a “happy life” for me which meant a husband, a career, and kids birthed from me and my future male spouse.
I struggled for the next 4 years. And though I made friends in the LGBTQ+ community, I still felt I couldn’t have the same love they had because ingrained within me (through religion and my parents) was that a happy life was with a man.

I had a boyfriend. It was the worst.
I had a girlfriend. It was the best.
That was when I knew. I was lesbian. I couldn’t fight it, as much as I tried to for the next 8 years.
Then I was outted.
The part of me I was still figuring out was unwillingly thrust into the hands of my parents. They were heartbroken. They didn’t know how to handle the news because they were like me: they didn’t know anything either. They didn’t understand that I was still their daughter, a human being capable of so many things in life. Except, maybe love. At least, that’s what it felt like. My mom would come to my room every night since the news and ask me if I was going to marry a man, if this was a phase. My dad stopped talking to me altogether.
So I ran away at 18. Still a baby. Still figuring out who she is.
It was hard to leave everything that I had ever known — a family who loved and cared for me despite their own struggles. I was grateful but I couldn’t watch the pain flash across my mom’s heart and the disappointment surface on my dad’s face. So I left.
I moved in with my girlfriend at the time. It was a struggle. I was fresh out of high school and still going to college. We couch-surfed for awhile. We were completely homeless for a couple weeks until we had enough money to get a place of our own.
Just when I started to feel comfortable, things actually turned for the worst.

After moving out, my uncle met with me and proceeded to tell me I was the “devil’s spawn and I would never be granted access into heaven” in front of a Coffee Bean. I haven’t been to a Coffee Bean since then. And then, all my close friends moved away from my hometown.
I lost my family, lost direct contact with my friends, gave up on the faith I had grown up with my whole life, and was still figuring out if being a lesbian was even okay.

Then she hit me.
In her drunken stupor her mind would cloud. Her hands would meet my face in fists instead of the gentle, soft palms I once knew. Her nails scratched at my cheeks and the back of my throat instead of down my spine in ecstasy. Her legs met my stomach instead of intertwining them with my own. Her fingers pulled at my hair instead of softly running them through tangles. Her body propelled into mine to push me onto the pavement, into the bathtub, onto the floor instead of embracing me with warmth. Her eyes, wild with rage instead of the love I once saw.
I thought about just giving up. I felt as if I had no one to turn to, no one to help me out. I tried twice, she caught me every time and wouldn’t let me escape. Unknowingly, I’m grateful she didn’t let me because I wouldn’t be who I am today.
But I didn’t know any better when I was with her. I didn’t know that this wasn’t the love I deserved. She was the only love I knew at the time. She accepted me when no one else did. So I stayed but I can still feel the remnants of her every action.
It took me two years to finally have the courage to leave; to finally realize that this wasn’t right. Luckily, my parents came around and they accepted me back into their home with open arms. It was still a struggle with them but it was also two years too late. The damage was done.

I was 21 when I met my next girlfriend. And she was amazing, completely opposite of HER. Because she was there for me when my wonderful grandfather passed away. She was there for me, period.
Or so I thought.
See, abuse can take many forms and all I had ever known was the physical manifestation of it. I didn’t see that it could take a mental and emotional form as well.
Within the 3 years that I was in this relationship, I continued to lose my way. I was limited in how I acted, in what I could take interest in and in my hobbies.
Book-binding was a “waste of time.”

Hanging out with family and friends couldn’t be done “without me.”

Following and shipping new queer relationships in the media was “weird and you should stop.”
And I stopped. I wanted to keep this love because it wasn’t physically negative.
So I changed myself once again.
Unaware, I built my own sovereignty. A force within myself to govern my actions, words, my own identity. It grew and grew until I couldn’t control it anymore.

When I was accepted into nursing school at 24, she raged at me. Jealous of my successes and treated me like a verbal punching bag instead of a human being. We broke up. I was torn. Less than a month later, I found out she was cheating on me. She was too scared to break my heart to tell me there was someone else and instead used my own success against me, making me feel like getting into nursing school wasn’t a feat of its own.
I was 25 when I realized: I deserve a wholesome and pure love. When I knew that the sovereignty I built needed to be dismantled. But it had to start somewhere.

So I started with myself.
I began to finally accept that being lesbian was just as valid as being straight.
It helped when more positive LGBTQ+ relationships surfaced in the media. It helped when my mom told me that she wanted to come to Pride with me wearing a “I’m proud of my gay daughter” shirt and when she said I could “always visit them with my wife.” It helped when I got my family back. It helped when I got my best friends back. It helped when I opened up about my journey to my clinical group and finally admitted to my mom the abuse I went through.
It helped when I discovered a community capable of unconditional love and acceptance.
I’m 26 now and I’m still growing. I’ve come to realize every feeling is valid, every human is valid. Everyone is capable and deserving of an entirely pure and healthy love. I chose to fight against everything I experienced.
I choose myself. I choose love.
Ea: a Hawaiian phrase meaning a sovereignty where no one, absolutely no one can hold you back.
(inhale, exhale)
I am a lesbian.
I am a human being.
I am here and I stay;

Feel free to exhale homosexuality

For me, understanding my sexuality has meant going through several mental chaos. Before understanding my sexual identity, I had to first understand my sexuality. In my adolescence, while everyone was talking about girls, boys, sex or kissing, I only thought about playing sports and going to the movies. I was not attracted to anyone, neither boys nor girls. And that made me feel like a freak, because everyone was already having a partner or, at least, a taste for someone, except me. I went out with a couple of guys and those have been (until now, 10 years later) the most boring dates of my life.
Also, before discovering my homosexuality I discovered sexual pleasure through masturbation. The first times I felt guilty about doing it because everybody knows that men masturbate, but what a horror if a girl does it. And so, for a couple more years, I was still not attracted to anyone, and did not need to have anyone.
It wasn’t until I entered college that I met the love of my life. This girl stirred up each and every one of my hormones that, until that moment, seemed dead. Unfortunately, it was an unrequited love, because she was suffering for a boy who did not pay as much attention to her as I was suffering for her.
The first person I told about my possible homosexuality was my best friend. His words of comfort (because yes, for him that confession was comforting) were “Relax, you’re not gay, you’re just confused. Let me tell you, there is nothing more confusing than when you are told you are confused. His consolation created a (other) mental chaos for me: how do I know if what I’m feeling is real or if I’m making it up? How do I know if I’m one hundred percent sure of something or if I’m confused and haven’t noticed? Furthermore, what does it mean that I am confused?
With those doubts in my head I entered my first relationship. The first month was a mental chaos because it was my first time (in every way), and it was with a girl. Because of the macho and conservative country I live in (Peru), being gay was seen as something negative. (Level: the same police officers assaulted both gays and lesbians) So, for someone like me, who has always tried to do the right thing and be a better person in every way, the idea of being gay made me ashamed. I mean, I knew it wasn’t a bad thing per se, but I was embarrassed that I wasn’t “normal. I was embarrassed to be something that was seen in a bad light. That’s why I didn’t tell my parents about it. However, as the days went by the mental chaos became more acute, so I thought it would be best to talk about it, maybe I could lean on them to understand me…. The reaction they had was shocking. You definitely don’t really know your family until you come out of the closet. From my mother I expected some rejection for being Catholic, but there was only silence. Not a single word for several days. Until she came over one night and told me to be careful because I could get AIDS. Yes, AIDS. It was the middle of the 21st century and I still believed that you get AIDS just by coming out of the closet.
On the other hand, my father is half relaxed, to the point of letting my brother smoke marijuana in the house. But it seems that drugs are not as serious as homosexuality. As soon as I finished telling him that I thought he was gay, my father started crying. There is nothing more ridiculous than seeing a big, loud person cry because his daughter is a lesbian. He started crying because it turns out that homosexuality is a disease. It turns out that homosexuality is a product of some childhood trauma. It turns out that homosexuality is an impediment to marrying and giving birth to grandchildren. And, in between cries, she began to apologize for whatever she did to make me believe it was “it”.
So far, when I think about that scene, I am aware that my departure was not tragic, it was just disappointing. At that moment I realized that I was alone in all that mental chaos. And I accepted it. You’re not always going to have someone to lean on, so I decided to raise myself to be my own source of support. But, of course, going through that chaos alone is not easy. It took me several more years before I could stop feeling ashamed of myself, and feel truly comfortable in my own skin. And it is only now, at 28, that I feel free to breathe out my homosexuality.
Now, because I’m half antisocial, my story hasn’t inspired anyone (because I don’t talk to anyone), but, if anyone keeps reading this far, what I can tell you is that, it’s not about forcing someone to accept you, it’s about how, as long as you love yourself, little by little things and people around you are going to shape up to you. And, one more thing, Respect. Even if someone lowers himself to the level of disrespect or seeks to harm you, as long as you hold your head up high, little by little you will be the one who wins.
Thank you very much for reading this will. Much love.
Ariana.

Bi

Last year when I watched Wynonna and ever since then I have watched girls and wanted them as muck as I wanted boys but I not out yet as I am still in school and scared of what people think as my friend is out and gets a lot of hate and I am scared

I am because we are, Marielle

I discovered myself bisexual when I was 11 years old, and I didn’t take long to accept myself but I accept myself is one thing but my mother is another, when I discovered myself I started to stop performing femininity and so I wouldn’t have to assume myself because I think the term is completely wrong but I understand what important it is, Throughout my adolescence it got worse until I was 14 years old when I was seriously dating a girl and my mother saw my cell phone and so she found out and then it was a huge wrong thing and I was thrown out of the house but they forced her to accept me inside the house, well 2 years ago this happened and as much as she says that everything is fine, I know and everyone knows that she hates the fact of my sexuality and treats me with contempt for it.

Pat F. (she/her)

Little Pat already knew that she liked boys and girls. Surrounded by friends and always dreaming of colorful friendships. But only the boys had the courage. The girls only saw their friend. I kissed many boys, but I knew that one day I would kiss girls.

I let time take care of that part. And when a girl finally wanted to kiss me I just closed my eyes and let it happen. It was wonderful.

The time passed and the falmiliar meetings speculating the life of others about boyfriends, children, marriage … And I let them talk about how many boyfriends I had. I have never spoken openly to the “family” that I am queer (I like different types of people). My 2 sisters, 1 niece and my closest friends know that I am queer because I don’t hide.

But this year I decided to put the rainbow flag in the description on the social networks that I am on. Family members and acquaintances will see what they never really wanted to know.

And Dominique Provost-Chalkley, you are a beautiful person!
I was unable to read your statement and remain silent.
Thanks to your delicacy I wanted to write …

I am OUT. (and also a ACE “demisexual” brazilian person)

#OutIsTheNewIn