Community Rainbow Waves

Queer

I knew I was apart of the community my freshman year of highschool when, no matter what I did I couldnt take my eyes off the girl who sat one seat up and to the right of me. It was something I couldn’t fight. I barely knew her aside from her name, but when she wasnt in class I noticed, when she didnt laugh at my jokes like the other 25 kids it didnt seem as funny to me anymore. I couldnt get her to laugh and I was determined and honestly I never did, what made her laugh was out teacher telling me to “leave the poor girl alone” that make her laugh.
When she smiled, I knew.
I grew up in church my entire life, and when I spent weeks thinking about her and trying to come up with jokes, I also spent weeks beating myself down and praying.
I wouldn’t come out for another year to my friends and they all accepted me and I was happy, I felt free. Two years later I was successfully making that same girl smile but now I had to grow some and ask her out. Two years later and she ended up sitting one row up to the right of me again in history class our junior year. I remember just staring at her the entire period, and then pretend I wasnt looking and blush really hard.
A year later I guess i finally said the right thing because we started to date. Yes ive been out for sometime by then, but being with her made me feel invincible. I felt comfortable walking down the streets of nyc holding my beautiful girlfriends hand still telling corny jokes.
All that would dissipate when I went home. My mom found out a year later and she hasnt seen me the same since. We’ve physically fought, she barely talks to me.
When I am home I am a shell but as soon as I am out of those four walls I am a giant of pride and happiness and alive.
Honestly the only reason I really survived it was because aside from being “home,” I get to be myself. My home is with my (still going strong) girlfriend, my amazing friends and the amazing lgbtq+ family.
Im just surviving and one day ill move out of here and then can I fully start to live my life to the fullest.

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

Kiwi TomBoy

I am a cis female, Lesbian/Queer she/her
When I was very young I always knew I didn’t fit in or feel comfortable with what I was starting to learn was “normal”. I didn’t know why though. I liked sports and I preferred bring with boys, not because I was attracted to them, whatever that meant, but because they got to do all the cool stuff. I was the classic Tomboy. Over the next few years by the time I got to high school in the early 80s in conservative Christchurch NZ , I began to realize there was something else going on, but without the knowledge to figure it all out fully. I went to a very formal all girls school, but only wanted to be friends with a select few. I was an introvert who only came out of my shell when playing sport, and of course I chose softball and cricket, two stereotypically sports dominated by gays. Yeah I know right! Read the room girl!
There had been early crushes but by the time I was about 15 there was one girl who was so different who grabbed my attention right off. Soo baby butch, the older me of course later realized. I just knew I wanted her but also her confidence. However everywhere I went I encountered homophobia even in the sports I played, which to me was scary and confusing, considering how many gays I knew in those arenas. Homosexuality was still illegal in NZ until 1986. Internalized homophobia was looking back at me in the mirror. I always was fighting my mum over my hair and clothing, as I hate dresses and skirts and still do. Even today she hates my short hair. That simple aspect of identity meant it took me too many years to be able to say out loud and proud what I had always suppressed – that I was a Lesbian/Queer and that is my biggest regret. I let the fear rise higher than my bravery.
Once I came out after University and left home, it was like a huge weight had been taken off my chest. I could finally breathe deeply and just be my true authentic self.
Would I do things differently if I could, of course, but cest la vie since I ain’t a Time Lord. I have learnt to live in the moment and be kind firstly to myself, and then to others. I am grateful I took that jump off the metaphorical cliff knowing I would fly or at least glide smoothly to a safe landing and I thank my friendsfor their support. The waves of fear no longer crash over me as I learnt how to run instead. Love of the outdoors gives me peacefulness and mindfulness, the tools of which I am still learning, but I am now happy, healthy. I am definitely still a Tomboy, hopefully a bit more dapper and stylish than the young 10 year old version of me.
Ps I wish I had a show like Wynonna Earp when I was that young teenager but I am so grateful it is there for this generation of queers.

I am a free loving,heart guarded, til the end friend

I knew I always liked woman a woman’s eyes the stories their lips tell I am just in awe of it. I am one of those old fashion people when I am with someone I am with them strong morals. Been through hell but got gonna give her hell life that is I am not ever gonna let my rainbow fade love all

Freakin Awesome

I’ve always knew I was not like other girls when I was little. Never really got into barbie dolls and all the girly things. I always liked what they boys liked. It wasn’t until high school that I realized that I liked girls and it really threw me off. At that time is when Prop 8 was getting introduced and people were fighting for their right to marry their partners. Something about seeing that and being devastated because that’s how I felt. One day I want to be married and have kids but people saw someone marrying someone of the same sex wrong, so I suppressed who I was. Then 2016 came along and I was really fighting my demons on who I was and who I loved. I looked myself in the mirror and finally came to terms that I love women and that I’m normal and like everyone else. I told my siblings and they support me 100%. I haven’t told my parents and probably never will but it is what it is. I don’t need that negativity from them. My name is Jenell and I’m proud to say that I’m a lesbian and I love women

#OutIsTheNewIn

Stefanie, proud to be gay

When I found the „Start The Wave“ page and read all the coming out stories I knew I wanted to share mine too.
When I think about it, I have been gay my whole life. Growing up in the 80s and 90s in the middle of nowhere Germany there weren’t many gay couples that I knew of. The first time I saw 2 women kissing was probably in Xena. I can’t remember the exact year but I think I was 10ish. Knowing that there was something other than straight relationships was confusing.
Since I was a baby I had to fight with eczema (Neurodermatitis). I had good times and not so good times. I started playing soccer at the age of 13 (I know… very gay). In the girls team we didn’t have gay girls that I could remember. Some of the older girls on the women’s team were gay and I remember that my mom was very afraid that I would „end up“ with one of them. Most of them were not really my type anyway. She said I should be very careful. Everything I had been told was that being gay was not right. My grandma even thought that gay people were sick and needed help.
As I got older, my skin condition degraded. The changes to my skin were and are still a very slow process, so I don’t realize how bad it is until it becomes unbearable.
With puberty and all those hormones kicking in, my skin got really bad. I got laughed at, more than once, even by my „friends“. So I hid my emotions as well as I could. I knew that people couldn’t handle looking at my skin, or maybe they just didn’t want to. People would get a certain look on their faces that said “I feel sorry for you”. So I tried to talk less and less about it. It is not a fun topic to talk about, so I faked happiness as often as I could. Don’t get me wrong, when my skin was not too bad, I actually was happy. But the older I got, the worse it got. From experience I knew that no matter what I tried to make my skin better, it wouldn’t help. Because of my experience with my skin, I wasn’t really interested in having a romantic relationship with anyone. I didn’t like to be touched because it would feel uncomfortable or even worse, it would hurt.
I don’t think I ever had a real crush on a guy. I got along with them and played soccer with them, but I didn’t want to be with them romantically.
I switched to another soccer team and made some really great friends. They were really worried about me. That was the first time that anyone really cared about me outside of my family.
By the end of 11th grade, I was 17, and my skin was so bad that I had to do something about it. So I finally went to the doctor. He tried different medications, acupuncture and God knows what else. Nothing helped. Finally he gave me steroid shots. They helped. That was the first time that my skin was actually acceptable in a very long time. I think I got those shots till the end of High School. I was 19 when I graduated. I was so done with life and school that I didn’t know what I wanted to do going forward.
That was the first and only time that I was with a guy. I am still thankful that I had my period that day because I didn’t want him to touch me. It was only a fun time for him… When I went home I felt weird and just not right. I thought that he wasn’t the right guy and that I needed more time… I was so wrong.
When I started my apprenticeship I thought I could do my job and focus on the fun things in life. I was wrong again. My bosses were cruel people and treated everyone inhumanely. I felt so powerless because I did the best I could, but it was never good enough for them. When you get yelled at almost every day you just internalize the verbal abuse and feel more and more worthless.
After a couple of years on the job, at the age of 22 I think, I developed a skin condition again. When it got bad, I went back to the doctor and got another shot, but this time it didn’t help. We don’t have good dermatologists in my area, so again I did nothing. I still was suppressing my feelings because I didn’t want to deal with them. And I didn’t want other people to feel sorry for me. That is not a nice feeling. Everyone constantly gave me advice on what I should do or try for my skin. Which I had already tried and it hadn’t help. My skin got so bad that I just barely existed for a very long time. I did my job, played soccer and suffered, mostly in silence. I really enjoyed the company at soccer practice and the games. When my friends would invite me over I would always go so I wouldn’t lose touch with reality. I would force myself into uncomfortable situations. I always enjoyed music and when I think about it, my friends, music and my dogs probably saved my life. I thought that things would never change. My skin was so itchy that when I slept, I would scratch so badly it bled, so on top of everything I had extreme pain. I had to work standing because I couldn’t sit down for long periods of time. I even thought it would be easier to end it all than to suffer through it. I still cry when I think about that awful time. At least I had great friends who didn’t laugh at me.
A friend of mine recommended a dermatologist 1 hour away, so I thought I would give it a try. By the time I finally went to the doctor appointment, 95% of my skin was covered. Even people in the waiting room at the doctor stared at me. And I assume that they all had problems with their skin and should understand because they were at a dermatologist. The doctor told me that I had psoriasis and that I could do PUVA treatment (phototherapy). I did the treatment but it meant that I had to go an hour there and back plus treatment time 3 days a week for 35 sessions. The treatment was so strenuous. Despite this, I had no time off work and continued to put in at least 40 hours. My skin did get better. After I was done with the treatment, it was ok for a while and then the psoriasis would come back. Half a year later I had to do it again. It was very exhausting. On the one hand, I had the therapy and on the other I knew that the psoriases would just come back. I still refused to deal with my feelings because at this point it was too painful. After the fourth time, my doctor gave me medication for my skin. This helped but the side effects in the beginning were unpleasant. I became overheated after taking the pills and they didn’t always agree with my stomach. During all of those treatments when my skin was actually a little better, I still thought that nobody could ever want me like that because my skin still wasn’t good and it always got worse. So I still suffered through the verbal abuse at my job, but with my skin improvement I thought „why are you not interested in guys?“ And then it hit me. YOU ARE GAY. Great. That’s great. My whole family has very strong negative opinions about that. But because my skin condition leading me to suppressing my feelings, I was already 24 by the time I realized it.
My best friend at the time realized that something was very wrong with me, something beyond just my skin issues. She often talked to me but I couldn’t tell her I was gay, because when you say it, it is real. She was close friends with a gay girl at the time whom we both knew from soccer. They decided they wanted to go to Pride. They asked me if I wanted to join and I said yes. They probably wanted to go so they could take me somewhere where being gay was normal. We had a good time and on our way home my friend said „I had a phase when I had crushes on girls… how about you?“. All I could say was „I don’t think it is a phase…“ I thought it would be easier to say it after the first time but it was still difficult. I am shy and introverted and my past experiences with people whom I thought were friends didn’t make it easier. One night when we went out for dinner with my closest friends, someone shared great news and my friend said „Now we just have to find a girlfriend for her [meaning me] and everything will be great“. Everyone looked at me. They were all cool with it. It still didn’t free me. I was so afraid to tell my family. At some point my friends said that I had to tell my parents before someone else accidentally let it slip. I waited another few months to tell them. It was right before my mom’s birthday. I thought it is now or never. My dad was watching TV. A very German movie with many happy straight couples and weddings. Perfect timing. So I told them and I was crying; my dad said he didn’t care and my mom said the same. That was a little shocking to me. I thought that they would never accept me, and to be honest I don’t know what I would have done if they hadn’t.
I wanted to have a better life and I was so unhappy in my job, so I decided to get a new job and it worked. After nearly 8 terrible years, I started my new job. It was very stressful, but the people were so much nicer. It was such a relief. I started in January 2015 and in April I had my first date. That was awesome and weird at the same time because I am not good at small talk but it went ok. We met 4 times. She was too attached to her Ex to let go and all of the sudden she was dating somebody else. That was unpleasant but after a few weeks I had another date, however it wasn’t so great. We just didn’t connect so we didn’t meet again. A few weeks later I again started texting with another girl. We were texting all of the time. We met but she was also too attached to her Ex so that was a dead end too. I was very depressed and thought I didn’t want to meet new people for a while… It is so difficult for me to open up to people and meeting new people all the time seemed too stressful.
During my dating phase my friend went to the U.S. for her college degree and she met a girl at a party. The American girl (AG) had some Germans living in her house who were about to move out so my friend ended up moving in with her. The AG happened to be gay and single and asked my friend if she knew any fun and maybe even gay Germans. My friend hesitated but finally asked me if it was ok to give her my email address. I said yes but was very nervous about it. My English was ok but I was afraid I would embarrass myself. We started emailing, and then we switched to texting. We texted all the time. After 4 months she suggested we should meet in Ireland because I told her how much I love it and that she should go. She told me before we met that she was interested in me and that my skin wasn’t an issue at all. We met there in April 2016 and fell in love. She came to Germany with me and stayed for 3 months. Her job allowed her to work from anywhere as long as she had internet connection. When she went back home it was terrible. She went back and forth from U.S. to Germany and at the end of January 2017 she proposed to me. My mom is active in our church and she asked the minister if we could get married in the church too. He was thrilled about it but we had to ask everyone involved in the church administration if we would be allowed to marry as a gay couple. Only one person was against it. We had a ceremony for our civil union in the municipal office. After that we had the church ceremony. It was the best decision of my life. We had to wait till October to actually have a legal marriage because the laws changed then.
My skin was not really great during that time either but it was ok enough. At the end of the year my wife suggested that I should try to go gluten free. I wasn’t super happy about it but I thought I could try it at least. So January 01st 2018 I started to go gluten free. After 3 months we could see the changed. Probably after 9 months my skin was almost clear. I have never been happier. I could even stop taking the pills which was a great relief. I got so comfortable that I forgot for a while how miserable I was. I got 1 ½ awesome years out of it. At the end of 2019 it started to come back. Very slowly again so I didn’t realize how bad it was getting. My wife changed her diet because she has PCOS so I supported her and ate the same way. The program involved exercising, yoga and meditation (The meditation didn’t really work for me though). It helped a little with my skin but not enough. So in November 2020 I went back to the doctor. I am stuck in the treatment again. I only have a few sessions left and will be done by beginning of February. I forgot how exhausting the treatment is because I am still working normal hours. I am in an emotionally unstable phase right now, so I knew I had to do something else. I found the Start The Wave meditation, read some about Chakras and thought I would give the heart meditation a shot. I am meditating every day and I have to say it really helps my skin. I know I have to really work on my mental health too. It is so hard to admit that I am not ok. I have a long road ahead of me, but I am hoping that I will be strong enough to make it. We also changed my diet again. I hope that the combination of all of this will make a big change. I know I have the best wife by my side. She is so supportive and drives me to my treatments every time. She always tells me how strong I am. I mean I do adult every day even when I don’t feel like it. But she still loves me even on days that I don’t like myself very much. She makes me feel good about myself. There is always hope…

No More Pretending

Funnily enough, when I was about 6 I told my sister that I was gonna grow up to be a lesbian. It was naturally laughed at by her and the rest of my family. Fast forward, looking back at high school, my friendships were all close with my female friends, particularly touchy, and I would occasionally be jealous of their relationships (even when in my own). I played it off though, just me being a needy friend. When I got to college, everything changed. I met out queer people, one of which was my roommate and one of my favorite people on this earth. She introduced me to media and the community (and funnily enough, Wynonna Earp nearly a year ago now). And it was like my entire world opened up, and I realized I was bi. And that was crazy to me, how I had been missing this huge part of myself. How everything finally clicked into place.

I was opened to the community and all of the beautiful people in it. And I finally put myself out there. I was out to everyone at school, and nearly all my friends at home as well. But it took me even longer to come out to my family. I told my brother first, his response (and my favorite by far) was “Well, I also love women so we have even more in common now.” Coming out to my mom and sister was harder. It was immediately met with “Are you sure?” “Don’t label yourself.” “I thought I liked women at one point too.” and many other cliche lines that I never thought I would actually be hearing. Eventually, my sister came around, and even my mom to an extent. They both support me and love me, and that is something I am very grateful for. However, my coming out was met with a “But play it straight around your father.”

And finally, after coming out to them, I started dating my first girlfriend, and I was absolutely in love with her. But it also led to probably one of the worst experiences in my life. While planning a trip home to see her, my mom decided that after months of telling me to “play it straight” that she would take it upon herself to tell my dad about my sexuality. Only 5 days after I had left for my third year of college. Which led to the absolute worst phone call of my life with a very angry father and some of the most hurtful words I had ever had spoken to me, with the phrase “You’re not gay.” Yelled over and over.

The sarcastic person in me so badly wanted to reply, “You’re right, I’m not gay. I’m bisexual.” But I don’t think I could’ve landed it with confidence over the way I was feeling in that moment.

Eventually, the relationship ended, and me and the girl went our separate ways. The response from my father being “Thank god that’s over”, while I was experiencing heartbreak for the first time. Luckily, by that point, my mom had learned a lot and was there to have my back and reaffirm that I am who I am, regardless of my relationship status.

And now, nearly a year and a half later, I am proudly out to anyone and everyone in my life. Whether they accept me or not, I have no care in the world. I love men and women and I decided that I wasn’t going to hide it for a second longer than I already had. I am proud to be bisexual and a part of this incredible queer community. I love you all. #OutIsTheNewIn

I’m queer, black, an aspiring filmmaker and modest cinema buff.

My name is Rashard. I come from the great state of Maryland.
I came out as bisexual to myself when I was in my senior year of high school. It was slightly difficult, as I went to an all-boys Catholic private high school.
It wasn’t until college that I joined an LGBTQ student group. I went to my first Baltimore Pride in 2018, then went the next year.
I’m out to some parts of my family, including my parents and siblings.
I came to the conclusion of being queer around this time last year.
I want to be an actor and filmmaker, and I really love film so much.
I have a DVD and Blu-Ray collection damn near so vast you could probably mix it up for a small-scale movie store.
I graduated from CCBC in June of 2019, and now I’m taking classes at Towson University to get my Bachelor’s.

In conclusion, this is me and I’m learning to be proud of myself.

Kier – dreaming Big in Big Sky Country

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

I was raised in a very strict, fundamentalist “Christian” cult, so many of my liberal values were viewed as wrong and shameful. My father was bisexual, but he was also very abusive to my mother and I. So my association with any kind of sexual ‘other’ was tied to difficult emotions. I was sexually abused by my father when I was of a tender age and again by a cousin when I was 14, so coming into womanhood and sexual awareness was met by fear and instant repression. I simply shut myself off to the whole experience.
Now, at the ripe old age of 29 😉 I have left the cult, separated myself from abusive family members, and am discovering who I am. It feels so good!
Just since turning 29 in April I have come out as gender queer and am flying the asexual flag (though I may truly be more demisexual). I have never felt so free or so confident.
It has always been easy for me to love others, but I find it’s even easier as I learn to also love myself!
I am inexpressibly thankful for Dominique Provost-Chalkley for her bravery and her representation. Positive representation really does change lives, and sometimes it even saves lives!

Came Out at 30- CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT SUICIDE.

Where do I start ? My childhood. I was a quiet, shy and lonely girl, raised in the middle of two siblings so nobody cared about me. I was not old enough to be heard and not young enough to be understood. So I just did what I had to do : nice girl, be graduated, find a job and live with a man. Typical hetero-normal life until I met this woman at 28 years old. She was so beautiful, so gay, so engaged and so not interested by me. But it was too late I was hooked.
I spent so many sleepless nights asking myself why… not why this gorgeous unsensitive woman… no, why NOW ??? Why not 15 years earlier ? Why not with my Best friend ? Why at the worst moment of my life ? So many why-s for one obvious Because : because life is a constant challenge, it sucks, it is hard and complicated all the time. Life is such a journey, you don’t understand everything in the moment. Life is also full of joy and beautiful people if you know where to look.
And because of course you felt for other girls and women before but you didn’t know what it was…

A couple of years before I started to question about my sexuality, my cousin died. We grew up together, he was my other half, we were different and similar at the same time. I played sport, he played music. I teached him sport he teached me music. He was gay, I was straight. He killed himself. He could not stand to be different.
I spent all my energy to be angry, to feel guilty and sad, i was a wreck. With a useless boyfriend who thought I could grieve for one month and get back to normal. But normal never came back, I miss him every freakin’ minute, and I am about to meet a woman who will make a mess with my life.
I am still grieving and now I am gay ?? What’s next win the lottery and lose the ticket ?

“You must give up the life you planned in order to have the life that is waiting for you” (Joseph Campbell) the sentence that changed my life. So I gave up my sooo booooring straight life to focus on me and only me. Life gave me the opportunity to meet bunch of people who really looked like the Earpers community. A safe, non-judging and very gay-friendly group with whom I travelled the world. I didn’t want to in the first place but I felt home with them and it was so gooooood !!!!! So good to finally speak to someone who listens.

I came out at 30 to my Best friend and she is still the best. I didn’t came out to my parents, my girlfriend did. She thought she was the one so obviously she made decisions for me. I kept my family but not her, she was so wrong !
My family agreed with only one sentence : “if it is your choice it is okay.” That was it, we never talk about the “room-mate” sensitive subject. It is taboo even if they truly think it is not.
I know it takes time to deal with it.