Community Rainbow Waves

Alya

I knew I was gay when I was in 5th/6th grade. A year later I came out to my best friend, the same month I got in to psychiatry because of depression. There they forced me to come out to my mother because “it would help me”, she just said its just a phase and she didn’t believe me, while I sat next to her crying. 2018 I was on my first CSD and my stepsister picked me up. As she saw me she was like “oh but you’re not one of them, right?” and I just started giggling. Thats how I came out to her. 3 Months later my stepsis, stepmom an my dad sit in our garden and my sis told them I wanted to tell them something, which I definitely didn’t because I wasn’t ready yet, I was the whole time like “no I don’t” so my stepmom starts to ask “did you smoke” “hell no” I replied, “did you got a tattoo?” “no” are you a lesbian?” and I instantly started to cry. Thats how I came out to my Papa. One and a half year later on new years eve 2019/2020 I came out to my mom(again) my stepdad, my foster mom and dad, friends of them. Now I am OUT AND PROUD 🙂

ANONYMOUS

Ever since I started high school right through near to the end I never came to terms that I liked girls I tried to push it away and not think about it because I was scared of what others thought about me. In this society many people don’t agree with LGBT+Q and I’ve seen how people are some people are loving and accepting but some aren’t which we don’t have the power to change their minds everyone has the own opinions. But back to coming out I always liked this girl and her smile was just wow I was speechless. I didn’t want people knowing about me being bisexual so because these feeling became so strong for her I distanced my self from her so I’d stop loving her but because I did that they became even more powerful all I ever thought about was her. I came out not long ago and all my family and friends are accepting well the ones I told. But since coming I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been less anxiety and the girl I always had a crush on isn’t just my best friend but my girlfriend now and I’m proud to call her that , I’m proud to walk down the street and hold her hand , kiss and hug her and gives her compliments without caring what others think. This is me and I’m proud of it my confidence was never the best but now it is thanks to thinking more positive and for people being accepting and showing me it’s ok because it is ok to be you.

Forced out, still proud

Ive known since i was young (around the age of 12) that i wasn’t straight, however it created an inner conflict because i was not yet ready to face it or accept it. This conflict and struggle of acceptance was something i used write about, in a ‘diary’ and through poems. Slowly, by the age of 17, i had got the courage to come out to my nephew (hes a year younger than me and my is like a best friend to me), and that feeling i got after telling him was so incredibly freeing, not to sound cliché it felt as though a huge weight had been lifted, though he remained the only person i was out to for a few months. Not long after coming out to him i started getting closer to a girl at school, we had me that october (i had came out to my nephew a few weeks prior) and by december we were officially dating! (yay!) but the situation isnt that simple, less than a month after meeting this girl, my best friend at the time admitted to having feelings for me (she was also a girl) but i just didnt feel the same way about her, she was my best friend and i’d never thought of her as anything more (it’s also worth mentioning she identified & continues to identify as straight, so perhaps she’s going through/went through her own journey of sexual identity?). After a long conversation with this friend we attempted to go back to normal despite her telling me she had a crush on me & me not liking her back. I didn’t tell her about the girl & i talking or getting together because i didnt want to hurt her feelings (i realise this was absolutely not the right thing to do, had i told my best friend about it then maybe what happened next wouldnt have happened at all). During sixth form (i think this is college for americans) my best friend somehow found out from literally the only other person we told that this girl & i had been together for around a week…i dont know if this next part came out of jealousy or spite or just pure hatred but my best friend went & outed me to all of my peers in the common room…only 1 or 2 of my friends new & i hadn’t even told them, my girlfriend did. people i had been friends with for 6 years didnt even know yet because it was something i was still finding my way through & feeling out…yet i was forced to be okay with what my ‘best friend’ did. i feel guilty in this situation for being a rubbish friend and not yet telling her about the girl & i but it was all so fresh and the news about my best friend liking me had come as a shock to me so i was having to deal with so many feelings at once. not an excuse, but i dont feel as though i deserved to be outed….as someone that had struggled with being gay and coming to terms with it for YEARS (just like so, so many other lgbtqia people) being outed was the worst experience of my life but something i have to live with & move on from. On a more positive note, this happened in january of 2018 (just over 2 years ago) and i am still with the girl in this story!!! We’re moving in together in September because we’re both heading to university (she’s studying to be a midwife, what an absolutely angel!).

It will be okay.

I guess if I really think about it, I always knew I was bisexual…. But growing up, it would be either “you’re straight or you’re gay”, there’s no in between…. And I liked both genders, so what did that make me? I was really scared and didn’t want to be different, so I focused on the “straight side”…
But it wasn’t until last April that I started to really find myself. I guess what I really needed was to have the right people by my side, and I can’t express in words how thankful I am for them. They made me question what I really want and who I really am. I guess I was always so scared to think about it, but when I talked about it out loud for the first time, I felt so relieved…. So free… So myself… And since then it has been a journey. It still is. When I told my high school friends I didn’t know what they would think. They had questions (what I was expecting) but they took it really well.
I still haven’t told my family. I guess I’m still to afraid to do so. I know my mother would be really cool about it, and it wouldn’t be a surprise to my sister (I think she already knows..?), but I don’t know what my father would say… And my grandparents don’t really like queer people… And my family means the world to me.
So I guess I’m still finding my way, but at least I feel so much more confident in my own skin. I think coming out is a journey, one I’m taking at my own pace, but I know I’m gonna be okay in the end. And in the end, it doesn’t matter if I make it with a man or a woman, as long as I’m happy it shouldn’t matter what the otheres think.

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

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

I don’t label/identify. I’m a girl who tries to be confident with being me every single day.

I came out to my family in a three page word document in 2006 or 2007. It felt easier than face to face. To this day I still express myself better or shall I say more openly, more honestly, and more in depth via typing, texting, writing. Honestly, After coming out to my family back then, I spent many year’s slowly coming out to people. Through college, through work, etc. I knew most people knew, but there is a huge difference in assuming someone knows and informing them yourself. I can’t recall the last time I “came out” to someone. Now I guess I “come out” in different ways. I don’t explain things or nervously back into it. I will just say this is my ex wife, my girlfriend, my kids other mom. Sometimes I still feel uneasy but generally I’m adapting much better. It took me over 10 years to finally take a chance on cutting my hair short like other friends had and like how I, I repeat “I”, wanted it. I not only love it, but it has created even more confidence.

I have supportive friends, family and coworkers. There will always be people who judge, but I would consider myself to be one of the lucky ones.

I am a Gender-Fluid Queer

My story is one that never ends, its an endless cyclone of fear and misery, a tale is old as time. Living in a religious Hispanic household restricted me from, well.. being anyone i wanted to be. Being the youngest of seven siblings i didn’t have much choice in the matter when it came to expressing my true self, at an early age i knew i was different. Well so did my favorite Aunt, she was more of a mother to me then my actual one, she looked after me when my parents were away for years working in the city. But my first coming out story began in the summer of ’04, when something inside me awakened. I couldn’t turn to my family with it in fear of instant rejection or judgement or even isolating me from the world, so to practice I told a lie to my best friend at the time to see her reaction to the news, i said ” i was playing with the girl next door and some how we ended up kissing, I didn’t know how I felt about it but I might try it again, what do you think?” her response was priceless, she asked if I was gay now, I said no of course not I’ve had boyfriends in the past, she went on to say its ok if you are, just live your life ill support you and what every you decide. Now mind you we were like 9 years old, they stuck to me. from then on, I became a little more confident and bolder in my social surrounding such as school and eventually work. until one day my aunt asked me, “Kay do you like girls?” I was utterly shocked, for I thought no member in my family suspected it, I turned red with embarrassment first rejecting the question, but I looked at my Aunts face which showed nothing but kindness and I finally had that courage and said it out loud YES! An honest to goodness Wave of relief washed over me I felt flushed, but she said shes always known but waited for me to come to her but my fear was too deep she knew I never would. We sat up that whole night talking about every minut detail, she helped me feel accepted, loved and supported. I became a little bolder a few days later my older sister called me to ask if I was Gay I said I was a lesbian yes, but being called gay or lesbian never sat right with me I mean I like girls so being called lesbian insinuated I was only female, I knew I was born a girl but I also liked when strangers would mistake me for a boy, so i sot the advice and consul of others like me to put a name to who I was as a person, coming across label as “Gender-Fluid Queer” it described me to the “T” so thats how i described myself to my brothers and friends and yea stranger to if asked. Now the dark part of all this, my dearest loving Aunt passed, and my father left us, I was left with the one person I was most terrified of. My religious headstrong Mother, I alone watch over her none of my siblings want nothing to do with her I am all she has, til this day she still does not know or is in denial. She is now a fragile woman, so in fear of hurting her I say nothing, cowardly I know, I’ve tried many times over they years to tell her but just when I finally think I have the nerve to fess up , I chicken out. Its a fear that paralyzes me from having a social life anymore, going out on dates or meeting anyone. I’ve lived with this weight on my chest for 20 years, so to take care of me and separate myself from her negativity I have taken up therapy to cope with this weight. Hopefully in due time I can work on my true authentic self and have the courage to tell her as I’ve done many times over!

Hopefully you can find a silver lining in my story and if you have a similar story just know your not alone!
Thank you for reading
Much Love!

Love is universal, kindness is beautiful

Now when I think back, I realized that I always felt this way, but growing up in a heavily religious country I didn’t know this was normal.
The talk was always “when a men and I women love each other” (fill in the rest). This construct of what love and partnership is supposed to be, leaves no room to be truly open and explore feelings.
I thought I was weird, I thought something was wrong with me and so I didn’t say anything to anyone.

On top of that, the message that everything outside heterosexuality as “unnatural and sinful” was present in society and even school. There was no reference to same sex couples, gender fluidity or anything else.

I remember having feelings for girls and when they became friends (that is how I explained it) is friendship and nothing else, but it also happened with boys, which added to the predicament.

Then around grade 8 news about violence against “those people” were more visible (or maybe I noticed more) stories of rape and murder with no one being brought to justice.
I can’t like girls it is dangerous…. fear really intensified in me!
So I concentrated on the boy part of my feelings, pushing my feelings for girls way, way down!

I didn’t want to admit it but I still felt not quite myself, there was more to me. I didn’t take the time to understand what my feelings really were, there was no language I knew about how to express what I was feeling.

Fast forward and I came to Canada, I wish I could say that I felt free to explore all sides of me, but
A new country – culture shock and feeling lost
High school while learning a new language
Wasn’t a citizen – fear of being turned back

My mind was so busy with, learn the language, pass classes, make money to survive, help mom in everything needed – calls, translation, doctors etc., I didn’t have time to be a teen, let alone revisiting my feelings for people, because no matter how much I pushed them down, these feelings were always there.

I was lucky and towards my final year I made really good friends and things started to look up.
Even though there were instances in which I wanted to come out, I felt it wasn’t the time yet.

Eventually my mom started the conversation “Maybe you can find a nice guy to marry and have kids with” I told myself “this is it, this is how I’m going to come out to my mom”
I turned to her and I said: what if I fall in love and it is not a guy, what if I fall for someone else?

She looked at me, paused for a couple of seconds (which felt like an eternity) and said “As long as you love and respect each other, is all the same to me, I just want you to be happy”
I cannot explain what I felt at that moment
I will carry those words with me forever!

Since then I’ve come out on different occasions depending on my comfort level, I know the people who truly care about me will have my back.
Coming to terms with this part of me has filled me with a warm sense of community that I didn’t know I could be part of and opened up some amazing opportunities to form new friendships.

Fear can be strong but LOVE is powerful!

I am glad I finally let go, because loving openly brought life to a new level where essence matters more! I now know love is more complex than the narrow narrative I was taught.

Love is universal and kindness is beautiful
Let us ascend to new heights together

I am queer and happy to be in this journey
I can’t wait to see what life brings!
Mace

Lesbian-Gender Warrior-Relationship Anarchist-Eco Rebel

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT SELF-HARMING BEHAVIOUR AND SUICIDE.

I usually do not write on any type of website like this but found myself encouraged to do so here.
I knew I was different since I was 6 years old. I did not have a name for it, and I grew up in a strict Catholic environment so forget asking any type of questions. It was not, until high school that I was exposed to the concept of gayness through homophobic remarks toward someone who had graduated. As I realized I might be gay the local college library became my haven for information or should I say misinformation. There were no role models or mentors. All information stated being gay was a mental illness. I did not see myself anywhere in the world, my home was not supportive, and I felt alone in the world. The result left me depressed, isolated, and feeling ashamed of who I was.
This left my young adult years coming out as a lesbian fraught with self-doubt and battles inherent in the cultural norms of the 70’s. I suffered the wounds of alcohol/drug misuse, suicide attempts, rejection from family, dysfunctional romantic entanglements as well as harassment and discrimination from the world around me. One of the worse being the murder of a friend for being LGBTQ.
And yet these experiences built a resilience in me that offered a guide to my own awakening. To remember who I really was and discover my voice. After Charlie was killed the dam broke and I came out all over the place. It was then I became an activist and educator around LGBT+ and diversity issues in higher education. I did not want anyone to experience what I had as a young adult. Thank god for gay bars and dances, as I found sanctuary in the only places to be out and safe.
As the 80’s and 90’s went by it was during my work on college campuses that another layer of my closeted life peeled away. Supporting young adults would in turn give me permission to acknowledge I am a non-binary queer woman. All along, I had thought since I was clear about my sex as assigned by birth, I could not be trans. This was my mistake and the personal work I had done prior assisted me in stepping into the acceptance of a deeper awareness of who I was. Gender queer.
So here I am a 64-year-old lesbian gender queer woman continuing to stand in a place of opening to the soul of who I am. All those years impacted by trials of the world’s norms and judgments contributed to a lack of confidence in my ability to know love and I longed desperately to experience it. During the last twenty years I became a Druid Priest of nature and dived into the guidance of my dreams as a path to healing and wholeness. To find and heal the darkness which clouded my access to feeling love. The land is so forgiving and calls to all of us to remember the heart of who we are as one planet, one being, and we need each other to survive and thrive. In listening to spirit I have now been guided to creating Dreaming Back to Earth. This is the gift of opening my heart.
Unexpectedly along the way of remembering I have become a relationship anarchist believing there is no hierarchy, state of control, or norms that drive loving and being loved with others and in community. It is a beautiful reflection of how to live within this earthly planet. And my dreams have offered the guidance to remember this within my soul and body. The key is to be willing and open to challenge my beliefs, face my traumas and open my heart to love in all its forms. This is some of my story.
Every day, I learn and shift. I am not perfect in the process and have made mistakes. I am not done, never will be. What a life. Thank you.