Community Rainbow Waves

Jenna

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

I have never posted anything serious on social media and I do not like to post for all to see, but I wanted to get my story out there somehow. When I saw the video that @dominauep_c uploaded I thought I might be able to help others with my story. I understand there is a certain limit on characters with these social media outlets, but I think my story is pretty crazy and actually inspiring for anyone willing to listen. Some days I don’t even know how I am still here and still sane. The story I am about to tell isn’t for sympathy or pity but it is for hope. It’s for others to realize that things can get dark but there is always that glimmer of hope at the end.

I was born in an upper middle class family. I was the middle child and probably the cutest out of my siblings. From what I can recall I had a great childhood and a loving family. When I was 13 my family decided to take one more camping trip before the school year started. Little did I know then, but that day my whole life would change.
My mother ended up having a heart attack on the vacation and would never come back home. My father being the man that he was ended up remarrying 3 months after my mother’s passing to a abusive drug addict with 6 kids. With my fathers decision to remarry our extended family fell away. My life went from a loving family of 5 to a family of 11. Life was terrible for me and my siblings. I was constantly physical and verbally abused for years by my step mother with my fathers knowledge. At the end of my ropes, I finally fought back. My father choosing his new family kicked me and my siblings out. My grandparents took us in but only to a certain extent. We lived in their garage and could only bathe in their pool. My sister during this time was to young and had to move back in with my father and my brother ended up moving away to college, leaving me at the hands of my grandparents. Once again physically and verbally abused, my only escape was to go to college.
Going into my freshmen year of college my father decided he wanted me back in his life. He divorced his wife and got a small apartment for us to live. On my first semester break from college, I went home to his apartment to find it abandoned, no note nothing, my dad once again left me and moved in with his new girlfriend. With no where to go, I moved into my car.
When the semester break was over I returned to college and actually became good friends with a girl from my hometown. Telling her my story, her family took me in. I had a loving family again. It was great and awesome until one day I fell in love with that girl. We hid this relationship from her family, and our closest friends for 11 years. We played the straight life in public, but behind closed doors we were in love. Through those closeted 11 years together we went on dates with men to keep rumors of us together at bay.
At the age of 25 I finally saved enough money to buy my first house. My hopes were to have my girlfriend move in with me and actually come out to our friends and family. Like everything else in my life things did not go as planned. We immediately became estranged from my girlfriends family and also mine. It was hell for 2 years for us. I was getting death threats on the regular from her family that I ruined their life and I turned their daughter gay. I was an abomination to society and shouldn’t be loved for what I am. Despite what we were going through we got married in those two years. My wife’s father did not show and her mother the day before decided she would come. My family ended up coming but only a handful and our wedding was mostly celebrated by our friends who supported us.
We bought a house shortly after our wedding and in hopes of starting a family. I am going to fast forward three years and cut out more heartache of miscarriages to current day.
I am 33 now, I have my own family. I am married to the woman I fell in love with 14 years ago. We have a beautiful 16 month old spitfire and one on the way. We have a beautiful home and finally some hope of happiness and peace.I no longer talk to my family for they believe being gay and brining children into this world is cruel. My wife’s family accepts/tolerates us/ me.
I am telling my story to bring hope to those going through dark times and for those who feel alone. We are not alone and we can bring change and we need to bring change. It is important to fight and keep fighting for what we believe in no matter how dark times may get. Fight for yourself and fight for love.
I will end on words that have kept me going “happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn the light on” – Dumbledore

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.)

An unhappy story with a happy beginning

I was 12-13 years old

I started to really notice that I was not like my female friends ( talking about boys they liked, how they dressed, how they presented themselves). I always just attributed it to being a “tomboy”. I mean, I didn’t even really know what being a lesbian was at that time. So then their was 13 year old me, finding out that the real reason I would always develop feelings for all my female friends and never feeling that same way towards any of my guy friends was because I was in fact gay.

At the time of that realization, being gay was alway talked about in a negative light; that it was something to be teased and made fun of for. Even my closest friends and family were always making “gay jokes”. Not necessarily at someone else’s expense, but definitely in a way that would scare me more and more into the closet. And to make matters worse, during this time was also when I learned about Mathew Shepard.

I distinctly remember watching an episode of the Ellen degeneres show. On the show that day, she was talking to Mathew’s mother. She talked about her son and the horrible things that were done to him because he was gay. I remember weeping and shaking in fear. Fear that if I ever came out that I might be faced with the same cruelty. So I kept it a secret.

Cue the many years of anxiety and depression.

Being a 13 year old girl was hard enough. So now add in my crippling fear of what might happen if someone found out I was gay. I tried so hard to convince myself that I was actually attracted to men. but it seemed that every time I would tell myself that being with a man wouldn’t be so bad, I would get so sad. Like all the color in the world was obliterated and I was left with this dark, cold world that I felt I didn’t belong too. And unfortunately those dark feelings lead to dark thoughts. I remember always telling myself that I would kill my self before I’d tell anyone. I hated myself for who I was and I hated myself even more for not being able to change who I was.

I couldn’t understand why I felt so scared for so long. Times were changing and I could see all of the progress that was being made at the time. Granted, their was still some work to be done, but progress nonetheless. Looking back on it now, I was actually one of the lucky ones. I had amazing parents. My dad who was ever open minded to all walks of life and a mom who would do anything just to see me happy and safe. Neither one of them would turn their back on me for being gay. Instead, they love me unconditionally. But I still always had that “what if” in the back of my mind. What if I’m wrong about them. What if this is the one thing that breaks the camels back. What if.

These thoughts and feelings went on for years. They got so bad that I began feeling physical pain. I could handle it anymore. So at 15 I attended suicide.

I won’t get to far into the details of it, but afterwards I remember just looking at myself in the mirror. I looked for so long. Looking for the reason I was still here.

It dawned on me that I was still here for my mom and dad. But I was also still here for my little brothers and all the people who truly care about me. I was also here for the chance that maybe one day their will be someone who is in the same place I was and the only thing standing in the way them and the same bad choice I made was proof that light will shine on them through the cracks of the dark room they are in for now. Was I ready to come out yet? No! But I was ready to start loving myself.

It took a lot of work, but eventually I got to a place where I was feeling ready to step out of the closet. I had it all planned out too. I was about to graduate from high school and it was going to be my graduation gift to myself.

However.

Two days before graduation, my mother passed away unexpectedly. I was more lost than I was ever before. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t breathe; even getting out of bed was an impossible task. Revealing my truth way put on the back burner for the time being. But time just went on and on and I still just hadn’t told anyone that I was gay. Not because I was ashamed of it or anything but because I just didn’t see the point in it anymore. I grieved for years, shit I still do. My mom was my hero. Out of every one in the world, I was more excited to share this part of myself with her the most. I missed my chance though and I will regret that for the rest of my life.

Now. The day I finally decided to come out to someone, I had not planned it out at all. The opportunity was there and I just fuck it, nothing could be more painful than what I’ve been going through with the loss of my mom. So essentially I really have nothing to lose.

The first person I told was my best friend. This guy really knows everything about me. He always had his suspicions, but he alway wanted me to feel comfortable enough with myself to say anything. But when I finally did tell him, he almost didn’t believe me. When I finally convinced him he said, ” well shit! What the hell took you so long!” He followed it up by saying ” I’m proud of you and I love you no matter what.”

For the first time since I was 13, I felt like I could really breathe again. That first breath I took after telling him brought me to tears. Not to sound cheesy or anything, but I felt alive! Little by little I started telling more people. Once I told just about everyone, the only one left to tell was my dad. I started to feel a little bit of that old familiar fear when I thought about telling him. I just couldn’t get the words out. But on June 26,2015 ( the same day the marriage equality act was passed in Congress) it was like the universe was telling me that now was a better time than any.

I waited all day for him to come home from work. The whole time I was giving myself pep talks. When he finally got home, I instantly started shaking. I was so nervous. He could tell that their was something wrong with me. He asked if I was okay. With tear filled eyes and a shaky voice, I said it, ” dad, I’m gay.”
He rapped his arms around me and said, “I know! And mom knew too.” That was the most comforting feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. He went on to tell me that they could both tell that I was gay, even when I was little. Jokingly I said I wish they would have made me aware of that. He told me that they wanted me to be comfortable and ready enough for myself to say something.

Ever since I have come out, life in itself, has been a million times better. I no longer fear the world knowing my truth. The air is sweeter and the world has color again. My life didn’t end because I came out of the closet. Instead I got a happy beginning to a life I am so eager to live.

Difficult

I realized I was into girls about three years ago, I was fifteen at the time and I didn’t really understand. With that being said I did the most dreadful thing ever I fell in love with my best friend. She didn’t understand why nor did she feel the same way and this really crushed me. I didn’t tell anyone other than her about my feelings I didn’t even tell her I thought I was into girls. She simply told me it was a faze and I even convinced myself that all it was, simply a faze. Months had passed and my friends would talk about how they thought being gay was wrong. This only made me push those same sex feelings even further down. Here I am three years later, eighteen and I know I like girls 100%. I am too scared to come out and I don’t know what to do. I know my family wouldn’t accept it. Please help me.

Gay

I chose to indentify as gay, because I feel like I can use that as an umbrella term. To me the word lesbian doesn’t seem quite right, because it completely rules out men, and though I’ve never fallen for a man before, I don’t think it’s impossible.

Some family members and most of my friends know I’m not straight, but I fear to come out te the public, not only because I’m scared of their reactions but I also kind of feel like it’s none of their business? I’m not in a relationship nor have I ever been before, but I don’t feel like disclosing my sexuality without reason you know?

However, your story did inspire me to at least write my story somewhere, and perhaps, with all sadness going on in the world right now I might as well put this story up somewhere else, to share some colour and be true to myself.

A transwoman, finally able to be herself

I first realized something about me was different when I was about 14. All the boys in my religious private school, which was gender segregated, started noticing girls. I noticed girls, and boys, but more importantly I wanted to be the girls. This was during a time when it was very much not acceptable to be trans. And in the religious community where I lived, even more so. I was told, “a person can either be queer, or they can be Jewish. They can’t be both.” And the Jewish community was my world, my life. It was everything I knew.

Over the next few years, I struggled with myself and my identity, up-and-down and up-and-down. I tried to pray the gay away. I tried being hyper masculine, to offset what I knew was the real person inside me. Nothing worked, nothing made the pain of living a lie go away. And I would spiral up-and-down and up-and-down. And then I couldn’t take it anymore.

I sat my spouse down, and I explained to her how I have been feeling and how I was not the person that she thought she married. I had my bags packed, and I fully expected her to throw me out. And to my utter surprise, and as I started sobbing common she didn’t. She hugged me and said “OK. Let’s deal with this together.”

Since then, I have come out, I’m living my truth, and I could never be happier. I’ve met family members who I never knew before, and found the family of my heart. And I could not possibly be happier. My wife accepts me for who I am, my children accept me for who I am. And that’s all that’s really important.

I’m an out and proud butch lesbian

I could, and regularly do, tell the story of coming out as a lesbian in the age of Section 28. I tell it because, mostly, it’s relatable, and it’s got some funny bits, and has very clearly defined parameters that say “This was the moment I was not out; this was the moment I was out.”

I’m not going to do that; instead, I want to tell you about what was, for me, a much tougher journey, one which took a lot longer and a lot more questioning, a journey which is no where close to being finished. I want to tell you about being butch.

It isn’t a popular word, nowadays, even in the LGBTQ+ community. But it’s an identity that helped me verbalise my own gender when I didn’t know how to, and gave me the comfort that I wasn’t the only woman trying to find her way through the world when the trappings of femininity felt increasingly like a cage.

I had always been a tomboy, more interested in climbing trees and getting muddy than in playing dress up and dolls (the barbie dolls my mum bought me spent more time rescuing each other from hideous fairytale monsters than they ever did swooning over Ken). Which is fine, when you’re young. It gets less fine as you get into adolescence, when the expectations of society become more restrictive, and the struggle to fit in, to be normal, comes to the forefront. I was a shy kid, bullied because my family were working class in a middle class neighbourhood, and my parents were catholic and somewhat strict; the thought of standing out any more than that made my stomach churn. So I wore the skirts, rolled shorter at the end of the road so our mothers wouldn’t see, and applied the colourful eye shadows which we’d be marched to wash off after first period, and I felt like I would never be happy again.

Skip forwards 8 years, and I was living away from home for the first time, in a foreign country, with no one to define me but myself. It was an opportunity, not just for learning, but for becoming. I found myself around people who wouldn’t bat an eyelid when I cut my hair short, or tentatively started adding “men’s” clothes to my wardrobe. It gave me freedom to experiment with my name and my pronouns, and start to uncover the layers of my attachment to womanhood that I had long since hidden in shame. I still felt anxious about it; there were still confusions and unkindnesses as a result of my outward appearance, but more clearly than any of those, I remember standing in front of the mirror with my waist length hair shorn for the first time, the strands lying around my feet, and crying because I finally felt like I was looking at myself.

It took another 5 years for me to exclusively start wearing “men’s” clothes, to stop disguising my mannerisms to appeal to the wider society who still demand performance of culturally mandated gender roles. It helped that I had found, online and offline, a community of women like me who enabled me to map out the words I needed to explain this huge part of my identity, and a woman who made me believe I was ‘handsome’ – not ‘pretty’ and certainly not ‘strange’. It took two thirds of my life and that unwavering support to fully accept myself as a woman, a lesbian, and a butch, and I’m still learning.

No, butch isn’t a popular word, nowadays. For the wider world it carries too many of the negative connotations attached to it by the narrow feminism of the 1970’s, but for me, it’s the key descriptor for who I am. I found an affinity with it, and it helped me – is helping me – on my journey as I dig deeper into what that means. It’s true that labels are just words. They’re just words we use to verbalise who we are, and our feelings towards them are based on our own personal experiences as we travel through life, constantly evolving or cementing as we ourselves grow. To the world at large, I’d ask you one thing: be gentle with other people’s labels, and the words they choose or do not choose to give their identity form. Invalidating them is a form of invalidation for the many roads they travelled to find them.

And to the masculine of centre women – the gender nonconforming women – the women getting called out in the ladies’ loos and receiving the side eyes as they pick up their groceries – stay strong. Stand tall. Keep on holding your own. And hold onto your swaggers – we’ve earned it.

Zo, Birmingham UK

A hopeful wanderer in search of ways to better myself and the world around me. And yeah, I also happen to be a gay girl.

Growing up, I had these weird attractions towards female leads of a couple of shows. At the time, my 13 year old self thought that maybe I respect them a whole lot and that is the only reason I feel this way. And even though I did respect them, I always knew at the back of my mind that it wasn’t the whole story.
I was fundamentally different from the people around me when I was growing up. My environment was somewhat of a rigid structure. It still is. Where I live, there is only one way to be a girl and one way to be a guy. You wander off from those norms and you’re considered weird and forced to act and put up a face that’s ‘normal’. I was a tomboyish kind of a girl, always into sports and wearing jeans and tees instead of proper lady dresses with makeup and jewellery. And for that reason, I was always made fun of. It did bother me but thankfully I never let it destroy my identity.
When I was around 15, I realized that I had a crush on my best friend. That my attraction to her was more than a friend. And at the same time, I realized that I was not like the girls around me crushing over guys. Because I had been crushing over girls the whole time.
This led to me focussing a little more on what my heart was saying. And with some introspection, I realized that i had been pushing down a huge part of me for very long. And now I had a concrete proof that this was not just a one time thing with a movie character, I had actual feelings for an actual person.
It took some time to understand that my sexuality is an essential part of me that is not meant to be hidden away.
It’s been 5 years since I accepted that I am gay. It is a hard journey since the environment around me is not one that is supportive. But even though I can’t come out and be open with other people, I am still glad that I was able to be open with myself. Because for such a long time, there was no direction in my life and I felt there was something missing. But when I accepted who I was, I truly started on the path of self discovery for the first time.
I am now more open and loving towards myself. I am still trying to practice patience with my journey. But I am happy. I feel complete. And I hope that the people around the world who haven’t given themselves a chance yet to be open with themselves, find a way to peace and happiness. Because it is worth it. Because we are all worth the love.
We deserve to be loved and respected by ourselves and others.

Kind

I was 19 when I came out to my parents, I remember we were in the living room and I told them I was gay and my mom was like oh yeah I know and I was like how did you notice, and she was like well you’re pretty and you never bring a boy home lol and she was like but don’t worry we love you no matter what. It was a relief and an awesome experience.

In the sea of my life there are still no real waves but the sea is no longer calm.

I would like to start with a line from a song I love:

Siamo destini
We are destinies

Siamo sempre noi
we are always us

Ma più vicini
but closer

the singer is “Zucchero” the song is “blu”

At the age of 30 I understood that destiny exists, but I also understood that I have to help destiny to come true.
At the age of 30 I realized that I still have to understand what happiness can really give me.
I grew up in a good Italian family, I never lacked love … but they always told me I was a certain way because I had to be perfect in society.
They never asked me what I wanted …. and my fault was never saying what I really wanted.
5 years ago I left my city, moving to Milan for work and this gave me the opportunity to understand
something more about myself.
I was supposed to marry a guy my family loved … but I couldn’t suppress the voice inside me that leads me to love women … and I had the courage to cancel the marriage … I started asking myself what I wanted.
But I do not deny that I am afraid of people’s judgment, fear stops me, fear makes me wear a mask every day, fear confuses me.
For society I am still the girl from a good family, with a good job and a good mental stability but they don’t know that inside I have a volcano of feelings that fight each other.
Last Sunday at a fair in the city, there was a fortune teller in a booth, I was walking and she came to meet me, she looked me in the eyes and told me that inside I suffer but I also have a lot of light to give … it’s was the first stranger to understand this.
In the sea of my life there are still no real waves but the sea is no longer calm.
I just need to have more courage.