Community Rainbow Waves

LOUISE

OK and wow… I first came out in 1974…a long, long time ago, in a world so unregonizable and foreign. After this teenage romance died I scurried back into the closet. I tried so hard to make it in the straight world. Now please remember in the 1970s there was no positive role model. There was no Melissa Etheridge, no Ellen. Representation of our community was nil. If we were represented on TV or film we were either killed off violently or we were freaking physcotic. At the lowest point I did consider harm to myself. I was alone and frigjtened
As hard as I tried I could not fit in with my straight friends. There was no positive space in universitys. Then… Ta da… Life threw me a life line. 1978 I met a woman who saved, who changed my life. She taught me gay was good. Being a. Lesbian was just fine. I was free. I was exhilarated. I was finally happy with me. I was going to be OK. With a lighter heart I embraced who I was. I came out to family–go figure, they weren’t surprised. My parents, etc were and have been extremely supportive. 1980…i met my sweetheart and this year we celebrate our 40th anniversary. Whew. Each day, each year has been an exciting adventure. Watching the LGBTQ grow, flourish. So… Moral of the story… Be, true to yourself, be true to your heart. Most of all be kind to yourself… Support one another and celebrate our pride.

Transgender (FtM)

I havent come out yet, but i will. I found out i was trans around the summer of sixth grade beginning of seventh grade, after i thought i was just gay. I am currently in eighth grade, i know my coming out will be okay, but i know people wont like me for who i am and people who will leave because im trans, and im okay with it. My journey is just starting, and i will be the best me of all. – Ryan

I don’t identify, I’m just me.

I’ve always known I was part of the community, I’ve always thought other girls were pretty and that eventually I’d fall for one and that’d be it. What was shocking to me was that it wasn’t common to feel this way. At a very young age I’d thought, “But girls are so pretty! How can you not like girls?” I never felt a need to come out, I came home one day and said “Mom, I have a girlfriend!” I could tell she was surprised but she was calm and hugged me and told me how proud of me she was. Our community can be such an accepting place, that’s one of my favourite things about it. I’m still very young, I don’t exactly have very many years on me, but I’ve always known who I am and what I want.

Queer!

i first realized that i wasn’t quite straight when i was 12. it was the scariest thing that had ever happened to me, and i tried to suppress my feelings for a couple years before i realized that i couldn’t live my life like that.
a couple months before i turned 17, i decided to stop pretending and stop hiding. it was both the most daunting and most relieving thing i’d ever done. i was extremely lucky to have friends that graciously welcomed me into their arms, and i am so incredibly thankful for them.
people that i grew up with were forced to see that lgbtq+ do exist, and that their existence is normal. my coming out may have been uncomfortable and scary at the time, but now, i’m so proud of myself for being open and true to myself, as well as opening the eyes of people that had previously held negative ideas about the lgbtq+ community.
i’m here, i’m queer, and i fucking love people.

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.

Christine

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

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

Except, of course, it wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It. Was. Terrifying.

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

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

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

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

Skylar Counts

I think that an internal battle with yourself is one of the hardest things.

I’m sure we’ve all been there. What do you do when your heart is telling you one thing, but your mind is telling you another?

In my case, my internal battle with myself was my sexuality.

When I was in middle school, I had my first girl crush. I didn’t really think anything of it. I was just like, “Oh, whatever, this will go away.” But it didn’t. The feelings persisted and I found myself in a situation I had never been in before — I had feelings for a girl. I remember being so confused and so scared to be myself. Those feelings resulted in me pushing the girl away and ultimately ending our friendship.

After that, I tried to focus on liking boys. And I did like them, even dated a few. I suppressed the part of myself that liked girls and did what my family, friends, and society told me to do — I liked boys.

When I would get a crush on a girl, I would ignore the feelings and focus on a guy that I thought was cute. That continued in high school. I hid a part of myself from everyone I knew and even from those I didn’t know. I was scared, alone, and struggling. Coming from a family who doesn’t talk about feelings, I suppressed what I was feeling even more. As long as they were happy, I didn’t have to be, right?

Wrong.

My suppressed feelings turned into anger. I was angry that I couldn’t be myself, angry that I couldn’t love a girl because of what others would think of it. How could I be living my truth when I was lying to myself? I was in a constant battle with myself; in a constant battle with what my heart was telling me and what my mind was telling me. My heart told me to take that leap and be unapologetically me, but my mind told me to push those feelings so far down to the point where they would become nonexistent. I had to decide if I was going to let society win or if I was going to let my truth win.

And then, when I was a Sophomore in high school, I stumbled upon a show that changed my life — Wynonna Earp. You’ve heard of it, eh?

I fell in love with the show at first glance. The writing, the cinematography, the acting, but, ultimately, Miss Waverly Earp and her being bisexual. I related to her right away and instead of fear, it brought me comfort. For the first time in my life, I was comfortable in my own skin. I wasn’t scared anymore. I was, dare I say, proud.

From that point on, I looked forward to Friday night’s. I could watch Wynonna Earp on the TV in my room and be myself. When I was watching the show, I didn’t have to be the Skylar who only liked boys; I didn’t have to be the Skylar who did what everyone else wanted; I didn’t have to be the Skylar who was scared to be herself. Wynonna Earp gave and still gives me the courage to be myself.

Shortly after I started watching Wynonna Earp, one of my best friends texted me one night and said that he had something he needed to tell me. A few texts later, he came out to me.It was late at night, maybe midnight or one o’clock in the morning, and he asked if he could come pick me up so that we could drive around and talk. So I sneaked out of the house and got in his car.

I remember feeling so free when driving around with him. We were both in a safe space and we had a new sense of comfort with each other. Before we ended our night, we went to Walmart and bought Fruity Pebbles. We ate them in his car and talked, laughed, and made a memory that both of us will remember forever. I almost came out to him that night.

But fear took over again and I pushed those feelings away yet again. It felt like all of my progress flew out out of the window. I was at a loss. I was 17 and, once again, scared, alone, and struggling.

What to do, what to do, what to do…

I lived in that fear for the rest of my high school career. When someone speculated that I was queer, I just shrugged and shook my head. When my mom looked at me weirdly for wearing skinny jeans and a baggy t-shirt instead of more “girly” clothes, I turned away and hung my head. When my family made jokes of me potentially being queer, I laughed along and cried when no one was watching.

I felt defeated, like I was never going to find the courage to be out.

But then I started making friends who were out and proud and that made me feel peaceful. I started being more myself, more my beautifully queer self. And, boy, did it feel good.

I’m 19 now. I’m no longer scared. I no longer have an internal battle with myself. Through my journey so far, I have realized that love comes in many different shapes, sizes, and genders. And with that realization comes the beautiful fact that I can now live my truth. I love humans. I love love. Ultimately, though, I love being queer.

It’s been a long time coming, but all those moments with my friends, family, and society full of fear, uncertainty, and struggle helped shape me into the person I am today. And that is a queer woman, out and proud.

With all of this being said, I want those reading this to know that it’s okay to be scared and confused. Your feelings are valid and you are not disposable. You’re not alone. If you ever need anyone to talk to, you can reach me on Instagram and Twitter @sky_counts.

Here’s to being here,

To being queer,

To being unapologetically you.

Spread your beautiful, colorful waves and remember that in light there is love and in love there is happiness.

#OutIsTheNewIn

Young rainbow happily out and proud

I have two coming out storys, one from coming out to my family and the onther to my mom.
My coming out story to my family is kind of funny, but for me to explain it, i have to go a little back in time to my childhood.
Since i was a kid i have always known i liked boys and girls, it was not a big deal for me at all. When i became a teen i realized that the world doesn’t gave the same view as me, so i started to hide myself and try not to be “as gay”.
To be honest, i have no idea why i did that, because since small my parents were always really accepting and had a lot of gay and trans friends ( literally the suns and daughters of the two best friends of my father are openly gay).
Till today i think of why i hide my queerness from my parents. I came to the possible conclusion that it was because i didn’t have any good representation to confirm that i was a queer ( all of the midia representations were from people completely diferent than me) and i didn’t want to tell then i was a lesbian because i was not, i am a bisexual/queer.
On a day in july when i was 15 years old i was having a existential crisis because i had a big crush on a girl and just had to tell someon that i was gay, so i decided to call my cousing ( a bit of info about this cousin: she is 9 years older than me, she is my only cousing and im her only cousin. She is really open minded and its basically an older sister to me).
I called her and heard a music in the background so i asked her to turn it down, she asked someone to turn it down (i tought she was on her room and the other person on another room) and i started talking to her. First i asked her to not say that to anyone and then i told her that i liked a girl and i was gay and started crying really hard.
After that she YELLED “YOU ARE GAY?!?!?!? WHAT!!??”
i kept talking to her and explaining and asking what she thinked of it. She was completely fine with it but seemed stressed, so i turned off the call and went crying because i tought i losted my only cousing.
About 30 min later, one of my aunts called me. ( a bit about my family: i have a really small family, we are 10 in total and we are really close. They are really open minded too and since i can remember they always had gay friends and loved the gay community. Again i dont know why i didnt say anything to then).
My aunt was really quiet and talking slow asking me to go to my grandmas house, which was really weird for her because she is loud as fuck. I stopped crying and went there.
When i got to her house i realized that i forgot that the family was having an “festa junina” ( a traditional party from when i am) and everyone was there. From the moment i got there everyone was weird and looking at me and it was weird.
I went inside and was trying to find my aunt when she came to me and yelled ” HOW THE FUCK YOU ARE GAY AND IM NOT THE FIRST ONE TO KNOW?!”. at that moment i stoped and my heart started beating really fast. On that moment my cousin got in with a sorry face and then i realized that she YELLED “YOU ARE GAY” TO THE ENTIRE FAMILY AFTER SAYING I WAS ON THE PHONE CALLING HER.
My entire plan of coming out one by one went down and i wasn’t prepared to that, so i ran to the bathroom to cry without saying anything. When i got to the bathroom i saw a giant pile of rainbow ballons on the floor of the bathroom and then the YMCA song started on the living room ( thats their lgbt song basically), i opened the door and my aunt, cousing and grandma were ate the door smiling to me and with open arms to hug.
They told me that this doesnt mean anything to then and they love me.
After that i realised that i didnt like the girl and life went on. I have always been really shy and have never dated, so the subject of beeing gay didnt came out anymore. Until i was 19 years old and fell completely in love with a girl.
We started dating and i realized that i had to tell my mom about that but i didnt know how. (A bit about my mom: she is really loud, really stubborn and really funny. We used to fight a lot because im really activist about stuff and she didn’t care at all. After i came out i we realized that we were fighting because i was not in a happy place crushing down feelings and that made me really stressed and basically a really easy target to a fight) .
I had no idea what to do and was desperate. So to my surprise and luck the movie “love,simon” went to the theaters and we went to watch (we went to the cinema every week). In the middle of the movie, simon came out the his parents ( spilers lol) and after that i told my mom that i was like simon and she said ” its ok, i love you, i dont care if you like girls or boys”. I started smiling really hard and went to a giant hug. The lady behind me started clapping really loud and i looked at her,she was smiling really hard and asked me in a low voice if she could say it, i didnt understood what she meant but i said yes, just because i was really happy. She stand up and said really loud ” this girl just came out to her mom and she suports her, lets clap to this please!! And after that the entire movie theater started clapping. I think it couldn’t be better than this.
My family is really close to my girlfriend, we even went to pride last year and my family was matching colorsto make a rainbow. My coming out story is so surreal even to me that i sometimes think im dreaming all of it. I wish everyone could have a coming out story like this too.

I don’t put labels on myself.

Labels make me feel as if you’re putting me into a box to which is yours to stereotype or criticize. I like being free. Being me.

Eleven. That’s when I started to question my sexuality. I wasn’t attracted to boys yet but I found girls so intriguing. I was on a softball team with beautiful girls which made this even worse. I met a girl online that I so hopelessly fell for. I didn’t know that at the time. When I did tell her she ghosted me. Ouch. I decided that it wasn’t real feelings so I pushed it down. Twelve. I found my best friend most attractive than my boyfriend. I didn’t think anything of it. I never thought I was bi or gay. Well I did. I took those “Am I gay” quizzes and chose the obviously straight answers. I was lost. It was really hard to deal with this and hormones. I cried a lot, screamed, pushed the closest people away. I was scared of what they would think of me. A little bit later the girl I was more attracted to than my now ex boyfriend said she thinks she’s bi. I have never been more relived. She reveled that she liked me just as much as I liked her. And three years later and I still call her mine. It was a very long journey to get here. I used to not hold her hand afraid of the looks or whispers. I would cry at night because of that. but now i want to live my life. I want her to be happy and I want to be happy. I put others people’s opinions behind me. Not everyone is going to support it. Her mother. Her mother outed me to my family. I live with my grandmother because my mother died when I was born. My grandma didn’t comprehend when she outed me and still didn’t until the third time her mother decided to out me. My grandma asked me if I liked girls because my mother died. Not the reason why. I hate being different but I am. There is no one I was destined to be other than myself. I am me. I like girls. I know that for sure. I like anyone. That’s me. The messy, crazy, sad, and happy, me.

This is me

I love being happy

I’m going to be with who ever makes me happy

#OutIsTheNewIn

The Sovereignty

Trigger warnings: physical and emotional abuse, suicidal thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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