I need to start by saying that my story is a cliché, I usually refer to it that way. But I think the good thing about clichés is that they reach people with a lot of truth, because it’s also the story of a lot of people. So come on.
I am the daughter of separated parents and grew up in a poor community in northeastern Brazil. My parents split up when I was months old and my mother ended up raising me without my father’s help. I lived until my adolescence at my maternal grandmother’s house together with my mother and an uncle. And after that my mother had a partner with whom we went to live for a few years.
It started when I started walking. My mom says that when I started taking my first steps I started going to church. At less than two years old I started going to church. I just went in there and sat down, nobody took me. Even my mother, my grandmother and my uncle I lived with, nobody went to church and in fact they didn’t even like it very much. As it is very hot here most of the year, I would leave the house wearing panties and flip-flops and enter the church at any time, all that was needed was for the door to be open.
The first person I attracted me romantically was my Bible school teacher, I must have been about 8 years old. I didn’t know what I called that feeling, I just know that I wanted to be close to her, touch her, watch her and try to somehow look like her or imitate her in some things. In parallel, I was absorbing and learning about sin, guilt and hell. As I grew up, both things became part of me, and as a teenager I had my affective experiences, both with boys and girls. And then at that time I stopped attending church.
From there, I started to get interested and research about possible theories and explanations to understand this concept so complex that it is sexuality. I consumed materials from both psychological science, biology and the animal kingdom as well as theories of the Christian segment. Despite feeling trapped and suffocated in that search, I really believed in God and wanted to find positive answers in all of that.
When I turned 18 I went back to church, got baptized and tried my best to get close to God. I started to be part of that community. I joined the music and communication group, made myself available to help with various activities, dedicated a part of my salary to deliver to the church every month and help with other campaigns. Sometimes I arrived before the doorman and left with him. I read the Bible a lot, the most complex and contradictory texts, I searched for the original language to understand the most accurate possible translation, I bought several study bibles and biblical dictionaries, I read books and everything else you can imagine.
In parallel to that, at the age of 20 I entered the faculty of Psychology, and then I thought: now I will learn and discover many things about the human being, his interactions and his behavior. So I will seek to study and learn about God in the same way, in an attempt to balance things out.
But, before talking about everything I lived and learned in college, I need to talk about my faith. I really believed in God. I really enjoyed being part of the church and belonging to a community. I learned many good things there and many of the things I learned with faith helped me to become what I am today and of whom I am very proud. A lot of that universe is really part of me. I met people that I can say that made a lot of difference in my life and helped me when I had several problems and difficulties, and who are by my side today.
Despite these things that I see as positive, there were so many others that hurt me too much. There were so many jokes, comments … I saw people being removed and expelled from their activities and positions in the church because of their sexuality. People who had to undergo various rituals and procedures of deprivation of so many things so that they could participate again. I was really reflective on how this topic was always prominent in the church. I heard several messages about it, so many damn jokes that even today I can clearly hear the pastor’s voice in my head with so much irony. It hurt, it really hurt.
I started to think about these parallel universes that may exist, like the one in the church, that managed to make me feel small and insignificant, because it seemed that I couldn’t be part of it, even though it seemed to be a very big place, it didn’t have a little space for me. Maybe this sounds familiar. This environment, ideas can even look like something very sophisticated and sometimes I thought that there was only this universe and that I needed to fit in some way, because it was the only one I could see.
Unfortunately environments, like churches, companies and even the family can compose an environment that is not good for us and then we need to find ours, because trying to fit in can hurt us and collaborate so that we become someone else or the worst, let to be who we are. And if there is no such place, we may need to create one. I will not lie, it is not easy. But we can find people and many other resources to help us. I found many things, I will tell you.
So in college, as you might imagine, it was a long way, from learning, acquiring repertoires about various ways of existing and living. I developed the ability to listen and observe and so many others that promote health and well-being. In my profession I learned about welcoming, understanding and caring. I realized that feelings like guilt and all the actions that can increase this feeling lead to psychic discomfort, mental disorders like depression and even suicide. I learned about relationships and so many other contributions that helped me understand social movements and other such interactions. I learned that the human being is powerful and that there is a potential for transformation. I learned concepts like equity, empowerment, autonomy, and that these being present in the logic of social interaction
can bring so much freedom and quality of life to people and result in changing paradigms and transforming worlds. Ah, I learned a lot that made me and still has made me more human, too human.
At the same time that I was learning so many things about what was human and what makes us human, I was looking for God. I searched, searched and searched. I looked in the bible, in the church, in retreats, camps and vigils but I didn’t find Him in any of these places. And then I started to arrive at the following conclusion: that the relationship with the divine is something so personal that it is certainly within us. I started to search within myself for the relationship I was looking for and approached an idea of spiritual independence. Gradually and with a lot of reflection, therapy and self-care I have sought to improve myself as a person and in my relationships and to reformulate my faith.
But it is in fact a conflict. A conflict occurs when two opposing forces point in the same direction, such as: I have a desire for women, being a woman at the same time that I do everything to make sure that doesn’t happen, because I believe I can’t or that it’s wrong. It’s confusing and it hurts a lot, I know. This can be a sexual conflict, and there are still many others. But we can overcome them.
I learned and I am still learning that life is almost never a dichotomy, it is almost never right and wrong, good or bad, black and white, it is diverse, it is colorful and it is infinite. I usually say that since there are more than 7 billion people in the world, there must certainly be more than 7 billion possibilities and ways of being, of existing and of loving. Among so many possibilities, we don’t have to choose between two. I believe that we will not always need to choose one over the other. It is possible to find a middle ground, a balance. I did not leave my faith to live my sexuality nor the other way around, I am working to find a way to live with both of them because these two instances of life, like so many others, make up who I am and made me get here. We don’t need to deny or renounce who we are since this does not hurt us nor does it hurt others. There are several parallel universes, we will all find one. My faith also consists of this, being part of a possible universe for all forms of existence and it also helps me to produce a sense of life and living.
Now start the process of sharing with my friends about who I am and have already found a community here where I am accepted. Gradually and gradually, in my time I have gone less to the church I have been attending for almost 8 years and integrating into another community. I have been practicing spiritual independence. Also therapy, yoga and many hot baths. My wish is that everyone can find in themselves infinite reasons to be proud and sensitive and positive ways of relating in an identical way, so that from then on they can start transforming the place they live in into a proper environment for our identity and as these relationships and interactions.
My best hug!
My journey started 9 years ago and is still going on now. Looking back, it may have even started years before that? But 9 years ago, my sister got pregnant at 16 and kickstarted my mother into giving my younger sister and I the dreaded “safe sex” talk at age 11 & 13! Being the smart ass that I am, told my mother I didn’t need the “talk” because I was a lesbian. We all had a good laugh and left the conversation at that. Except that became a running joke within my family… “when you get a girlfriend she’ll be my favourite daughter” my mum would say. It’s kinda the reversal of 90% of queer stories, rather than feeling like i was being putting in this heterosexual mould that society expected of me, I was constantly being called gay by my family. sometimes fondly, sometimes not so fondly. It lead me on a journey of confusion and frustration. For years I was a walking, human-shaped, lump of utter confusion, sometimes I still am. It started making me question everything; interactions I’ve had, friends I made, people I avoided. I had a fear of talking to new people, mostly boys. In 23 years I can count on one hand the amount of relationships I have had (spoiler alert: it’s absolutely zero)… But I like to read stories, fanfiction, comics and 99% of them are queer. Most times, I can’t watch a tv show if it doesn’t have at least one rainbow community representation.. it’s been 9 years and I still don’t know what I am or what I like.. however, I’ve always felt more connected, safer, with females, I can remember meeting a couple when I was like 7yrs old (because that’s what I liked to do when I was little; assert myself into strangers life if even for a few minutes) at the beach and introducing myself and staying with them for hours. The woman was so nice, Jill was her name, and they were trying for a baby of their own. I held her hand, she make sure I had sunblock on, that I was fed and not thirsty. In retrospect, that’s kinda weird for someone to do for a random kid but I remember crying when I had to leave. I don’t remember her boyfriend, nor did I have any sort of connection with him or any other male (though that may be a result of some early childhood trauma? Idk) what I’m trying to say is that my journey is still going on now and I am looking forward to wherever it may lead me; my mother may get a future daughter-in-law or a son-in-law or someone in between or maybe I’ll just get a whole bunch of cats? Either way, I am loved. I adore Waverly and her bravery to go after what she wants and I aspire to be even half as brave! I am trying to absorb some of Waverly’s Bravery to explore what could make me happy…. also, Ive watched Gentleman Jack (several times; Sophie Rundle is adorable!) for an appreciation of just how far we’ve come!!
Growing up, I didn’t need to look into a mirror to know that I was different. I never needed words like Tomboy, gay, or Freaky Freshman Asian to know that I didn’t belong in a crowd of one million. But people would always feel the need to remind me of this everyday. Whether it was the moms who would cram their daughters into a bathroom stall if they saw me come in or the adults who would kick me out of locker rooms, all I could assume was that I was disgusting.
Indecent. That was the scent that followed me. A smell so pungent that it would only worsen if one tried to wash it off; A fragrance that’s been rubbed into society since the beginning of time. So I wore a mask called shame made out of lies. The more lies I smeared onto it the harder it was to breathe. Until I met a teacher who asked me to strip away the 40-ton shield I was holding. And even as my hands were shaking she managed to pull off that mask; extinguishing the fear that laid beneath it. Taking in a breath of clean air, I realized that I slowly stopped smelling this indecency and in turn, others did too.
We are told growing up that “different” meant imperfection. Imperfection meant ugly. But I want this to serve as a mirror for those like me who grew up without one. I want people of all identities and backgrounds to read this and understand that it’s okay to stand out, it’s okay if you don’t know where you stand. Because far worse than being oppressed for your differences is knowing that you’ve spent your life pleasing people at the expense of your happiness. Happiness we all deserve.
It takes a lot of courage and strength to come out, it really does. It’s not as simple as just blurting it out with a smile on your face. I’m not saying that all of us have had a tough time coming out. Not at all. I’m just speaking on my own personal experience.
Coming out was hard for me. I was 15 years old. Even though I knew my mom would be extremely supportive, I was terrified. Not because of my mom, it was everyone else and the scrutiny that I was going to potentially be under. I had to take a deep breath and just say it, or so I thought. But for the first little while, I went to say it and nothing came out. I was truly terrified to say anything. My anxiety spiked. I was scared. Scared to say anything. Scared that I liked girls because I was told there was something wrong with me and to get help. So, I was scared to speak my truth.
I woke up one morning and thought to myself; “Surely it can’t be as bad as I thought!”. Well, I got up and I told her. I said “mom if I like girls, will you still love me? I like girls.” My mom smiled, hugged me and said simply this….”Katie I am so proud of you!”. I was so relieved and her approval was all I needed. So, I thought I am going to be accepted by everyone!
That’s not the way it went with everyone. I was told I was disgusting, gross, taunted, teased, bullied, told it’s wrong and that I really wasn’t and that I should marry a man. I felt so ashamed of myself.
I told my mom what had happened and that I will never be accepted by anyone. I cried. She told me I wasn’t the only one, hugged me and said we are going to go out. She took me downtown to Pride. There were so many people and couples that were actually happy to be seen together and so many colours. My head was spinning but deep down inside I had never felt more alive!
I am proud of who I am. I am a lesbian. I am into girls. I am my authentic self!
When I was really young, in kindergarten and elementary school, I used to wear whatever I felt comfortable in. I had no concept of gender and no concept of sexuality. As I got older, into middle school and high school, I started realizing that I was somehow “different” than everyone around me. I didn’t look like other girls in my class, and while I did try my best to wear what everyone around me was wearing, I never felt like I was “pulling it off”. I would try my best to be as feminine as I could, but it never really stuck and it certainly didn’t feel like me. I never cared if the boys thought I was cute, and I always got super self conscious around my girlfriends.
It wasn’t until high school that everything clicked. I realized like a flip of a light switch I wasn’t into men, but rather women. For a long time I tried to suppress that side of myself because the idea of forever being “different” terrified me. Many nights I spent awake, thinking of ways to undo it or talk myself out of it. Unfortunately, a few of my peers caught wind of my realization and soon I was outed to the entirety of my high school. At first I was absolutely terrified, but there wasn’t anything I could do at that point. I made the choice to claim it and own it (which I know is way easier said than done in some situations). It felt like a silver lining to me that everyone knew and I didn’t have to say the words, because I still hadn’t accepted it truly and I still wasn’t okay with it deep down.
It wasn’t until I made it to college and found a safe queer space that I realized just how truly incredible all of these amazing people around me were. After so much sole searching and simplifying of my life, I was finally able to genuinely accept who I was. Half way through college I started struggling a lot with the idea of gender. I thought, by being gay, it would make sense that I had more of a masculine demeanor (you know, stereotypes and all).
Oh how I was wrong.
These incredible people around me, coupled with amazing representation online, helped me to understand that even though our society genders absolutely everything, it doesn’t mean you have to label yourself as one. See it never felt right for me to call myself a “girl” and it definitely didn’t feel right calling myself a “boy” either. I was so confused thinking I had to put myself in a box so everyone around me felt comfortable. But the truth is, I don’t need to be either male or female, that being a person who is kind and honest is far more than good enough.
It’s incredible spaces like these that bring me so much pride and make it so much easier to say that I am apart of this beautiful community. That sexuality and gender can exist in all their fluidity, or they can not exist at all. That labeling yourself is an option in this world, but it certainly doesn’t have to be a requirement. Mostly, I’ve realized that being gentle with the world and the people in it, no matter the struggle, is far too under-appreciated.
I hope each and everyone of you, no matter how hard or easy your journey has been (or is currently), find nothing but love and support.
With all my love, Casey (KS, USA)
I am gay. I am genderqueer. I am here.
I knew I was a part of the LGBTQ+ community when I was 13 and met my best friend. My best friend is genderqueer and showed me what the LGBTQ+ community is. At first, I was amazed that I had spent so much of my life not knowing about this fantastic community but then, I got to thinking what if I’m a part of the LGBTQ+ community? So being the person that I am, I spent hours upon hours of researching and learning everything I could about the LGBTQ+ community. And after learning and researching until my brain felt like it was going to die, I came to the conclusion I was bisexual. The next day I came out to my best friend and she was accepting. I then proceeded for the next couple of months to come out to friends; they all were accepting. In late December of 2018, I came out to my parents as a lesbian. I didn’t come out to them as bisexual because I knew deep down I was lesbian. Nonetheless, my parents are accepting of my sexuality. The next day I came out to my brother, and he was accepting and then later that day came out as gay to me and my parents; my parents are accepting of his sexuality as well. I then spent the next year coming out to my aunts, uncles, and cousins; and they all are accepting of my sexuality. Overall, I am just so grateful to have an accepting family and friends that I can truly be myself around. I couldn’t ask for a better coming out story.
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.
I don’t remember the first time I figured out I was not straight.
I only remember a series of moments along the way.
I remember playing the Sims on my Dad’s computer and having my Sim adopt a daughter on her own and keep a close female best friend around. She had a beautiful garden and a swimming pool.
I remember being obsessed with some girls in primary and middle schools. Girls who were pretty and intelligent and popular. Girls whose blogs I could recite by heart. Girls I would have on the phone to ask them what colour their bedroom wallpaper was.
I remember being obsessed with Naomi and Emily when I began watching Skins in high school. Watching and rewatching their episodes and never being able to put my finger on what it was that I could relate to.
I remember my second trip to England, being in my exchange partner’s bedroom at night and reading her diary entry about having a crush on a girl.
I remember watching Brittany and Santana in the first seasons of Glee and being confused by their definition of friendship.
I remember noticing girls in my high school. The way they dressed. The way they talked. But I also remember noticing boys in my high school. And having crushes. A lot of them. I remember hugging him in the cafeteria and feeling like my heart would explode out of joy. But I also remember my friend’s voice when she ventured to say that maybe, just maybe, I had crushes on boys that were out of my league so that I would not have to date them for real.
I remember seeing my best friend falling in love with someone else and getting closer to them and my heart would break a little. I remember telling her how I felt. We grew closer and closer every year and we would tell each other that it was only a phase we would grow out of to eventually marry men, have children, and buy houses next to each other.
I remember spending hours and hours writing in my diary: I know I am not straight. But I know I am not gay. What am I? What am I?
I remember watching Faking it and finally being able to relate. Thank you to Dana, Julia and Carter for developing the character of Amy Raudenfeld.
I remember being on a bus to Clifton in Bristol and seeing that girl and thinking that maybe, just maybe, I would not mind dating a girl after the phase with my best friend was over.
I remember being in my bedroom with my best friend. Looking at each other with heart eyes and speaking of spending our lives together. I remember her telling me again that it was all a game. And I remember telling her that I was tired of playing this game and that I deserved better.
I remember creating a profile on a dating app for the first time and being faced with the preference choices. Show me boys. Show me girls. Show me both. I remember the answer being instant : both. What. Oh wait. I’m bi. I’M BI.
I remember going on my first date with this boy a couple of months later. How it felt wrong from the get go, but I couldn’t understand why. We were the exact same age, had a lot of things in common, listened to the same music. He was kind, respectful, good-looking. And yet, all I could think of was “please, don’t kiss me”. After this date, I remember changing my app preference to “show me girls” only.
I remember coming out to my mum on a beautiful afternoon in Spring. We were holding cups of coffee, sitting on my sofa. I was nervous. I chose the words : “I like boys, but I also like girls. I’m bisexual”.
I remember breaking off all ties with my best friend because I realised that I could not be happy living in a world in which she was dating someone else. I remember crying my eyes out for months and wondering how I could be happy living a life she was not a part of.
I remember watching Wynonna Earp because I had been told Waverly was a positive representation of bisexuality and be happy that a relationship could be so natural and uncomplicated. Thank you to Dominique, Kat and Emily for imagining and developing the Wayhaught relationship and giving me hope.
I remember coming out to my dad over lunch on a beautiful summer day and deliberately not using the word bisexual. I chose the words : “I like girls, but I could also end up with a boy”.
I remember my therapist frowning when I would tell her that I liked girls but invariably precise that I didn’t mind boys either. I remember being angry at her for making me question my sexuality. I remember her telling me I could be a lesbian and that it would be just as fine. That day, I left her office and felt as if I had grown wings. But I was not a lesbian : what about all those crushes I had had on boys?
I remember being with a male colleague in my car at night. I had just given him a lift to his apartment. We had spent a lovely evening. Instead of leaving the car right away saying good night, he lingered a little and was looking at me. I knew I had feelings for him. But a voice in my head was also screaming : “please, don’t kiss me”.
I remember her sitting on my sofa. We had met the week before, at a party. I remember my mind going blank when she went for it and held my hand. How when we walked back to her car, the voice in my head was screaming : “please, please, kiss me”.
I remember coming out to my grandparents and telling them about my new girlfriend. My grandmother said : “I knew”.
For a while, I was obsessed with labels. I wanted to embrace my new identity. Be proud and loud. But I constantly outgrow the label I choose. I claim I am bisexual, and then cringe when I have to admit that I can’t quite picture myself dating a boy. I say I can only picture myself loving a girl, and then cringe again when I have to admit that I am developing a crush on a male colleague.
I don’t know if I should identify as a bisexual, pansexual, queer or lesbian woman. I don’t mind people assuming for me, and I don’t correct them when they do. But I no longer use these labels anymore when I come out to a new colleague or a new friend.
The only thing that I know is that, sometimes, I bump into other human beings who are so beautiful inside and out that it makes my heart beat faster and my eyes glow. And I feel lucky to walk this earth and meet these people and love them and lose them and feel alive.
