Community Rainbow Waves

Bisexual

My coming out was not the best. I was forced out by an ex’s parent. I was 18 and was in a complicated relationship with my best friend at the time. Unfortunately the future would show me she was neither my girlfriend nor my friend, but that’s another story. She had wanted furniture for her room so I told her I could give her some of mine because I didn’t really use my drawers. Of course that caused commotion at home so I lied and told my parents I was going to move in with her. That way they wouldn’t think I was just giving her my stuff. My mom drove me n the furniture over to her house and I was going to bring the furniture inside. Her Father and my mom started talking while I went to her room to figure out where to out everything. Next thing I know my mom comes up to me and says ” el dice que quieres a su hija.” (Meaning he said u love his daughter) and my heart dropped but I didn’t want my mom to know I was freaking out so what I said was “So”. After that my mother broke down crying and we ended up not leaving the furniture. What followed was being ignored and getting kicked out a number of times. The good thing is now that I’m 30 my mom has become more accepting but I would have loved to have told her when I was ready.

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.

“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.

Gay

I’ve know I was different from such a young age, but I couldn’t put a finger on what it was.I thought looking at girls and thinking they were so cool and so beautiful was normal. I idealised my friends and would do anything for them. Till I was 13. I met someone at school and thought she was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Oh shit. Am I gay? No I can’t be that’s wrong and perverse. No she’s just a friend. I like boys right….

And there started and 8 year long battle with my sexuality. It was and is the hardest battle of my life. In high school I couldn’t tell anyone for fear I would be judged, disliked, stared at or maybe even assaulted, so I kept my silence. As the years went by slowly fading into darkness and depression over something as simple as being who I was. Having to act a certain way so my friends wouldn’t find out and pretending to like boys just tore me up inside. I didn’t think I was going to survive.

But I did.

Fast forward into 2020 I’ve come out to most of my friends who all except me, who love me and say I deserve happiness. Saying those words “im gay” was so hard. My body would physically shake and my throat would choke up. I remember the first time I come out. I drove to my friends house because I was just bursting at the seems and had to get it out. She took me on a walk and I was just completely silent the whole time. Till she turned to me and asked if I was gay and I just nodded. I bursted into tears then she hugged me and said it was going to be alright, and I will be alright. I’m not out to my parents because I’m quite certain they will not except me and kick me out of my house which gives me so much pain. So at the moment I feel I have to choose between them and my happiness. I hope over time I will be strong enough to be who I am and have the support I need to get through it when the time comes for me to tell them.

My sexuality has been the hardest thing in my life. It has come with sadness, anger, guilt, depression and a suicide attempt, but I am still here, fighting everyday for my life, and I’m winning. I hope that our world will change. Where we don’t see black and white, we see colour. A rainbow. Love, everyone loving who they want and being who you want to be.

My Name is Tracy, and I am me

It is only when I look back that things really become clear. For example, it is obvious now why I had a crush on my P.E teacher (but then who didn’t!). But at the time I was just a confused teenager trying to make sense of all that I was feeling. I guess that is the same for everybody when they first become aware of themselves as sexual beings, regardless of their sexuality. I don’t know how old I was, I’m guessing around 15? There was a Lesbian couple living opposite my family home, and I remember asking myself if I was like them, but then thinking that even if I was, I wouldn’t know what to do about it. This was the early 1980s, and things were not socially like they are now.
I left school in 1984 at the age of 17, got a job, and was happy just being me. I had no desire to meet anybody but I was aware that getting a boyfriend was the next thing on the list of things that were expected of me by society. I must add here that no pressure came from my family. So I conformed, and had a couple of boyfriends over the next couple of years. Looking back I actually feel sorry for them, they clearly wanted more than I was willing to give. Subconsciously I would never put myself in a position with them where things could progress physically. To me, they were friends who just happen to be male – end of. That’s why they never stuck around long I’m guessing.
Then in 1987 I started my Nurse training in the NHS. Six months into my course and my path crossed with another student who was to become my first girlfriend. We started out as friends. I knew she was gay, she never hid it. But I still wasn’t out, even to myself. Over time though the penny finally dropped and we got closer and closer. She would go on to say that she was just waiting for me to realise for myself, she apparently knew already.
That was when I started living the double life that will be familiar to a lot of people reading this. Luckily I was living at the hospital in student accommodation. It certainly made it easier, but hiding this part of me from my family didn’t feel right. My girlfriend, even though 7 years older than me, was also not out to her parents, which in a way made it easier for me to take the easy way out and keep my sexuality hidden from everyone but her.
Around the same time, when my world was rapidly changing around me, my sister passed way from Leukaemia. She was 36 years old and had only been ill for a few months before she died. My Father had died a couple years before this, and then for my sister to die….. I don’t know how my Mother and family (I am the youngest of 5 children) got through it, but we did. As for me, I didn’t want to add to the mix by coming out, so I stayed very firmly in. I can’t in all honesty say that had my sister not died I would have come out because I don’t know. Maybe it was just another reason for me to take the easy way out.
Life settled down, and I was happy, but still living a double life. I kind of found it exciting in the beginning, but as I got older, it became tiring. My girlfriend was accepted into my family, as I was into hers, but nothing was ever said. The more time that passed the harder it got to think about coming out. As it turns out, our families had guessed anyway and were happy for us. They were just waiting for us to say something. We didn’t know this at the time however.
In 2000 the unimaginable happened. My Mother passed away. And for me, devastated as I was I knew the time had come, there was no more procrastinating, I had to come out to my brothers and sister. I was 33 years old, and my girlfriend and I had been together for years. Even then, the thing that made my mind up once and for all, was that I wanted my girlfriend to travel in the funeral car with the husband and wives of my siblings. I remember the exact moment. The others were downstairs in my mother’s house and my girlfriend and I were upstairs talking. My sister-in-law then came and joined us. We chatted about other things to start, then I simply said that my girlfriend and I were a couple, and that I wanted her to travel in the family car behind my mother’s coffin.
That was it. I was out. The relief was immense, but mixed with nerves and grief for my mother. All my Sister-in-law said was “Well about damn time” and hugged me, before going back downstairs where she was of course going to tell the others.
A short time later my girlfriend and I also went downstairs. All my family were in the garden, and when I stepped out there to join them I was mobbed. I found myself in the middle of a huge group hug filled with love and reassurance. It was such a surreal time, grief for my mother, together with the relief of coming out and being accepted by my family.
There was only one negative. After the funeral, my sister’s husband came up to me. I had only seen him a couple of times since my sister passed away a few years earlier, and he said something along the lines of “There’s my perverted sister-in-law”. I’m not sure if he was serious or if he thought he was being funny, either way it wasn’t the time or the place, and he was dragged away by one of my brothers and told to go home.
And that is my coming out story.
The relationship I was in then came to an end after just over 17 years together. However, I am now married to an amazing woman, my real soulmate, we’ve been together for 11 years. I sometimes think my family like her more than me.
I am now 53 years old and I only have two regrets in life. The first is that I never allowed my dear Mum to know the real me, because I was scared to come out to her, and the second is that my Wife never met her. Or my Sister. Or my Brother who also died from Leukaemia 14 years ago.
Apart from that, life is wonderful.
Thank you for listening.

BeKindNomad – Jude

While this might be a little lengthy I assure you, it’s the truncated version of the story. I’m always open to speaking further about my life and experiences for anyone interested and especially if it may help someone else.

Let’s do a little travel back in time. Before Ellen’s famous coming out “Puppy” episodes in 1997. Before AOL went unlimited and allowed the first wave of people to surf the web and access information in a whole new way. Let’s go back to the 1980s where a young girl so desperately wanted to hang with the boys. A young girl who played with He-Man instead of Barbie. A young girl who felt like her skin was crawling every time she was forced to wear a dress. It was a “dark ages” because there was no information about anything LGBT+ anywhere around. Fast forward a little and the only time a gay or “trans” person was seen on the screen was a prostitute, druggie, or some other evil or mentally deranged type of character. But I kept finding myself drawn to girls and even those a little older than me but I didn’t know what this “draw” was because I had no vocabulary for it.
I wasn’t overly religious but I was asked to be a godmother to my cousin who was born in 1991 so I had to get confirmed and that meant I had to do confession as part of the final “classes.” I told the priest I was confused and didn’t know what was going on but that I was finding I was attracted to other girls. The priest turned to me and asked how I thought I’d look black and blue and unless I wanted to find out I should leave the confessional. I was surprised but as I wasn’t overly religious to begin with I didn’t feel “betrayed by my faith” as many others might have felt.
I was constantly tormented and teased in school as the “weirdo” and the black sheep in general. There was a small, dark phone booth in my middle school that I would often hide in to avoid the tormentors. In the tiny room were a little bench built into the wall and a little rack where a little newspaper-type booklet was placed in the slats. I would flip through it often just to have something to read and noticed a section for gay and lesbian. What are these words? What do they mean? I wasn’t entirely sure but, at the same time, I felt like these were incredibly important words. There was a listing for a local support group for youth. When squirreled the booklet away but was too nervous to call.
I was distracted by constantly being beaten up at school, beaten up at home by my father, and feeling like I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I fell in love with the Phantom of the Opera in middle school because I felt a kinship with Erik (Phantom). I felt like my attraction to the same gender was like his deformity. I felt grotesque and shunned by the world and so I started to turn away from the world in kind. I retreated to my mind and turned to writing. I’d write all kinds of stories but the recurring theme was a female “hero” always rescuing some female “damsel” – really likely the same old stories everyone else told except same-sex based. When I discovered that my parents were breaking into my writings I felt everything and anything I did was violated – I had nothing! No one to speak to, no one to trust, and I couldn’t even “speak to myself” through my writing. I retreated even further into my mind – opting now to just keep my thoughts to myself and never write anything anymore because even that was being violated. The more I retreated into myself the more I became “odder” to others and the more I was tortured and beaten up by my classmates and at home.
I spent the summer before I entered High School as a freshman just riding my bike. I’d get out of the house first thing in the morning and would ride anywhere and everywhere all day so I wouldn’t have to be home and deal with my father. High school started and I went to classes and joined the drama club because I always had a passion for theater thanks to my grandmother (who passed back in 1992) and the love I had for Phantom of the Opera was still strong because it was “my story” too. He was deformed on the outside and I was deformed on the inside because I liked girls. There was a boy in drama that was gay and said I should check out a support group. I remembered that booklet and eventually called and spoke to a lovely young woman (who I believe was about 18 or so) who told me all about the group and “coming out” and told me when the next meeting was going to be. I felt that maybe I wasn’t crazy or disgusting and maybe it was okay to like girls. I told a senior girl I was crushing on at the time that I liked her…
…Apparently, I was wrong…
She told the school principal and before I knew it I was being kicked out of school and being mandated into a mental hospital for “observation” for a month. It was true! Something was very wrong with me. I was a filthy disgusting creature just like I always knew I was! In the hospital was a girl and a boy, both around my age (maybe a year or two older) and they were lesbian and gay – the girl was discharged within the first few days of my being there but the boy was very friendly and told me about this local support group that I should check out when I got released. It turns out that it was the same group I called about and planned to attend a meeting before I got tossed in the loony bin. We got out around the same time and he agreed to meet me at the next meeting so I wouldn’t have to go alone.
When I got there it was a small, dark room with just a couple of chairs. There were a couple of older kids (18 or so) who ran the group and then a couple of others around my age and so. I was instantly attracted to one of the girls there and so I reached out and we went on a date. We wound up dating (in secret – I didn’t come out to anyone yet) for a little while when her mother kicked her out so my parents said she could stay with us. My sister and I were hanging out on her bed while she was in the shower and I fell asleep so my sister left to go to her room and my girlfriend just crawled into bed next to me. The next morning my mother walked in and saw us sharing the bed, both sound asleep, and started screaming. She grabbed me and pulled me out of the bed and started beating on me and screaming for my girlfriend to get the F— out of the house. My mother then proceeded to out me to my entire family and, thankfully, most of them said they weren’t too surprised and didn’t have much issue with it overall.
Unfortunately, that girl wound up cheating on me with someone I was on a volunteer ambulance squad with and that was the end of my first same-sex/lesbian relationship and I was thrust out of the closet. From then on I decided I would beat everyone to the punch and just introduced myself as “Hi, I’m the lesbian…” and while it startled people it also took away the power many would have over me. Most of my relationships wound up ending because I was cheated on. Around 2005/2006 I was working in an animal shelter and a woman (6 years older) saw my MySpace and we started chatting. We agreed to lunch and hit it off instantly. We were together for 4 years and my family was very accepting at this point. I started to talk to her about feeling like I was in the wrong body. For a long time I thought maybe I was just a butch lesbian but – once again – I had no vocabulary to understand what I was feeling – only that I was feeling something wasn’t right with how I saw myself in my head versus what I saw in the mirror. So, I stopped looking in the mirror. Despite her being married to a man previously and my telling her I think she’s bi versus lesbian she was adamant that she was lesbian – to the point where she told me if she wanted to be with a guy she would have stayed with her ex and that she didn’t want me to keep talking about this “wrong body” nonsense. I proposed to her, she accepted, and at one point a bunch of friends of mine planned to gather in the city (NYC) for dinner. I was excited to have everyone meet her and so we went. I introduced her to one guy and his live-in girlfriend and several other friends. Not long after I found out she went out to hang out with the two friends and they wound up kissing – before we knew it – she and I were breaking up and the guy kicked his girlfriend and her kid out of his house and now my fiancé and he were suddenly dating. I started online dating almost immediately after and hooked up with a girl from TN so I hopped on my motorcycle with everything I could manage to fit into bags strapped all over it and rode for 22 hours straight until I reached Nashville. She told me about Drag Kings and that I might be interested in that since I kept feeling like I was in the wrong body. We went to the gay clubs in Nashville where I saw Drag Kings for the first time and learned about transitioning for the first time. A month later we moved to Raleigh, NC where I started to do my own drag (dressing up as a male) and thought maybe I’m a “male-identifying lesbian.” I still didn’t have a grasp of what being transgender was or even that was what I wanted to do. I was clueless.
When I talked about “doing drag full time” as my mind understood it, my new girlfriend gave me the same old story. “If I wanted to be with a guy, I’d be straight and I’m not.” Okay, I will put the relationship ahead of my fulfillment. I wasn’t even sure what to do so why risk a long-term relationship on a “who knows what?” When I found out that she was cheating on me for some time (including one of them being with a GUY!!!!) I was done putting others ahead of my happiness. We split and I immediately went into full research mode about transitioning and March 22, 2014, I started my first shot of testosterone. But… my sister was getting married in August and I very quickly grew facial hair and my voice dropped – I needed to come out to my family quickly.
I spoke with a couple of cousins (I’m an Italian New Yorker, I have a lot of cousins) who I knew would be supportive and they said the same thing – “we’re not really surprised.” With support of some form, I told my family and they were confused but also gave me the “not really surprised” kind of response. Oh, but could you still shave and wear the dress for the wedding? I once again suppressed myself and did it so that my sister’s special day would go off without a hitch.
I’ve not dated since 2014 for a variety of reasons. I’m tired of being with people who would physically beat on me, who kept repressing me, and constantly being cheated on. I have been treated so badly by so many, including so many who claimed to love me that I didn’t believe that there were any people with genuine kindness or love in them. I got so tired of being told someone loves me “in spite of” this or that quality of mine. I have since been split from my family and have found myself to be incredibly alone and heartbroken but, at the same time, I feel like I’ve been stripped down to the barest form of myself so that I can rebuild myself better and stronger than ever. To be honest, I still wonder if there is any genuine kindness in people but having come across Dominique who seems to exude this incredible light of beautiful kindness from deep inside her soul I find it gives me a little touch of hope that there are beings out there with true love in their heart. That someone out there will be willing to be patient with me as I cleanse my scars and love me BECAUSE of who I am instead of the dreadful “in spite of.” I know that I have so much to give as a person, as a human, and surely there must be someone out there for me. It’s just very hard because I’m “too female” (ugh) for straight woman and “too male” for lesbians – or so I’ve been told multiple times. Finding someone who seeks to love me for my soul is perhaps the hardest journey of my life but I’m open to the universe guiding me and that person together. In the meantime, I continue to learn about myself and grow and learn. I may have “come out” twice – first as a lesbian and then again as a trans man – but I find that life is constantly about growing into yourself and all the many ways we come to embrace and express ourselves. So, until the person who will love my soul comes along I will keep on living and learning.

Woman, lesbian, polyamorous

When I was 14, I met a new girl in town. She was lesbian and has came out a long time ago, she was 18. We see each other during one year, I taught it was friendship first until the holidays (June-August) where I miss her so much. So we see each other again, run and kissed in a public place. I didn’t came out to my parents at this moment, but two years later. My parents just says “OK” when I say it. But they don’t know that I’m polyamorous (saying that is much difficult that saying that I like girls.)

Katrina, 29, queer- CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT DEPRESSION.

I was thirteen when I first remember becoming aware that I was in some way different to my female friends. While they giggled and whispered about which boys they liked I noticed that I did not feel the same. I reasoned that it was likely because I found the boys immature and annoying; or perhaps I was too focused on my learning to pay them much attention, or perhaps I was a late bloomer. Whatever the reason I chose not to think too much about it.

At fifteen the devastatingly crushing realisation that I might be gay hit me. I say devastatingly crushing because up until then my understanding of the term gay was that it was only ever used as an insult. It was a label thrown around by bullies against the bullied, and it was something you actively avoided being called. I did not want to be gay. However, here I was at fifteen watching a channel 4 documentary about a family based in the city I grew up in, and it was while watching this documentary that I realised the only reason I watched every week was because I thought one of the family members was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. This realisation forced me to reflect on past behaviours and I quickly realised that when watching TV or movies I paid all my attention to the actresses rather than the actors. When idolising singers, I favoured female singers more then male. All this time I convinced myself that it was because I found them talented and relatable, and although that is true, I also couldn’t deny that I found them ridiculously attractive, something I never thought about when it came to men. So, at fifteen I realised that I might be gay. At fifteen I also realised that I needed to hide this part of me at all costs.

I had nobody in my circle of friends or family that were gay, nobody I could look up to as a healthy and real example of what it meant to be gay. The only thing I had was childhood insults and barely any TV/movie representation. Even as recent as 2005/6, LGBTQ+ media representation in the UK was viewed as a salacious thing, something for post-watershed TV that guaranteed to draw in hundreds of complaints if shown and so hardly ever was. I was petrified of what it meant to be anything other then straight, and so began the years of secrecy, self-hatred and nightly prayers for ‘straightness’. It was during this time that I resented the phrase “people choose to be gay” because it was bullshit. I actively chose to be straight for all my late teenage years, I chose to date men, I chose to kiss men, I chose to ignore the screaming voices in my head and feelings in my body that told me that kissing boys felt unnatural and forced. Everything in that time of my life felt unnatural and forced and the constant lies about who I was and what I really wanted started to take its toll.

I remember at seventeen my dad asking me whether I was gay and the reaction my body had to that question was overwhelming; my heart began racing and I started sweating as the fear caused me to adamantly deny that I was anything other than straight. Later that night I cried myself to sleep because in lying to him I had once again closed that door on my cage when there was a chance of being free. I vowed that the next time somebody asked that question I would be honest, I was too afraid to just come out and say it but next time I was asked I’d not lie. I didn’t realise it would be another four years until I was asked again.

By the time I was twenty-one the weight of this burden that I’d been carrying since fifteen (even earlier in retrospect), was so heavy that it had started to affect my mental health. I was dealing with depression, anxiety, deep shame and self-hatred. I still didn’t want to be gay but six years of pretending to be straight and praying to be straight had shown me that this identity was sticking around whether I wanted it to or not. And so, at 21 years old, and while stood in the kitchen with my dad, he asked me again whether I was hiding anything. I think he had sensed my unhappiness in the way only a parent can and was trying to find out what was causing his eldest daughter to be sad. He asked me again whether I was gay. It was clear to me then that my dad likely knew for almost as long as I did about my truth, why else would he ask me the same question twice four years apart. This time I ignored the racing heart, and dry mouth and choking sensation and I said “yeah, I think I am”.

I can’t put into words the relief that moment gave me, as adrenaline coursed through my body I immediately felt lighter. Somebody else knew my secret and the weight of it was shared. My dad was amazing about it, told me he loved me and that it never mattered to him who I loved as long as I was happy and healthy. I always knew deep down that this would be his reaction and I was relieved to find out I was right.

Regardless of whether we think our parents will be accepting doesn’t necessarily matter. It’s the fear that what if you misjudged them and their reaction, what if unknowing to you your parents held strict views against LGBTQ+ people and were disgusted and disappointed in you. The fear that I didn’t know my parents at all was what kept me closeted all those years, the fear of losing their love was enough for me to hide who I was if that’s what it took. I’m lucky that my family were accepting and loving, i know of others that weren’t as lucky. I’m almost 30 now and it’s been 9 years since I came out. I won’t lie, I’m still not fully free from the shame of being gay, I still have trouble coming out to new people or openly showing affection with a partner in public. This shame is something I recognise and that I’m working on overcoming and it does get easier as time goes on. I’m just happy to be free from that cage.

Gay cis gender woman

So… growing up being gay was never a thing. Nobody ever talked about it, or at least not that I remember. In like 6th grade we briefly discussed different sexualities but 6th grade me didn’t think anything of it.
Flash forward a few years and all the girls in my class have crushes on boys and start dating. I was never interested so remembering the 6th grade discussion I just thought I was asexual. Problem solved.
And then I started watching Ellen and figured out she was gay. It took me a while to get the internalized homophobia (and hell I don’t even remember where that even came from in the 1st place.. probably that my dad hates everyone who’s not “normal”) out of my head. But once I realized that people are gay and that’s fine I realized that that’s an option for me to. And there was this big ohhhhhh… Moment where I finally realized.
I then ignored that for another few weeks or months and then wrote about it in my diary. Immediately after I sent it to my internet best friend. She was the only person I trusted enough to tell and I knew she wouldn’t be very judgmental. And I guess the whole internet friendship aspect helped too. It’s easier when you don’t get a response to a text for a few days than it is being ignored irl.
So I sat there anxiously waiting for her response… And she didn’t read it for a while. But when she did read it she responded in the best way imaginable. And that meant a lot. It still does.
Months go by and I wanna tell my friend group that’s around me in school as well. But that involves 3 people. If you tell one.. you gotta tell everyone.
And it was a bunch of times that I was almost at this place where I thought I’m gonna do it. But then one friend (we’ll call her Sally)made some slightly homophobic comment or whatever that most likely meant nothing to her and I was back at zero. I did that a few times.
Finally, summer 2018 after 10th grade I was on vacation with my family. It was the last day of pride month and the next day was my birthday. So that day I gathered all my courage and over WhatsApp told the friend out of the group that I knew the longest and trusted the most(we’ll call her Lina). Her response was positive too.
2 weeks of vacation go by (yes, tactic that in case she reacts badly there’s time ’til we next see each other) and I’m back home. During the following week we met at the pool with another person from the friend group (we’ll call her Anna, not the judgy bitch). I was joking about this one guys hair bc he was relatively small but he had dreads which made his head look huge in comparison. She then asked me if I was into him or something. Both me and Lina giggled. Anna then asked what’s going on as she was very confused. Lina pushed me to tell her but I just couldn’t.
After we got home that day I took to WhatsApp to explain. I know I’m a coward but I can’t handle that much rejection. I get enough from my dad. Lol.
So I explained and she was very cool and understanding about it. So then it was time to tell Sally. Also over WhatsApp. And although she seemed accepting and all… Looking back hell no.
A few days later I met up with her at the pool and we were just laying in the sun talking when all of a sudden she asks me if I could really imagine fucking a girl. I at the time was totally flustered bc baby gay but looking back.. that’s such and inappropriate and dumb question.
Starting 11th grade I was out to my closest friends and so I felt okay about maybe slowly but surely telling other people. Meaning basically everyone but my parents and anyone who’d tell them.
Classes changed and I met a bunch of new people. It didn’t take long and I had queer friends. And that was amazing. Because all this time I thought I was alone… Yet to realize that wasn’t true at all.
One of them (Nick, if you for some reason ever read this, Hi) moved away after 11th Grade but he’s still one of my best (queer) friend.
In 11th grade there was this incident where Sally was showing me a chat with her boyfriend where he basically said he wanted to punch Nick because he’s gay and wearing makeup. She found that funny. And for her it was weird that I didn’t. Then she explained the back story which was apparently supposed to make it funny. Spoiler: it didn’t. It only made it more disgusting and horrifying to me. She never understood why I was offended by her boyfriend being homophobic. And her too.
I’m still very uncomfortable around him. Even tho I barely ever see him. Luckily. And she’ll be the 1st person I’ll cut off when I’m done with school.

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. 🙂