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.

Still figuring this out

I’ve never admitted it before, ever, to anyone… I’ve spent 15 years feeling like there is something wrong with me! I am brand new to this world and to earpers and I’m blown away by the community feel. I was introduced just a few weeks ago after reading Dom’s birthday post and after reading it I related so much. I was so inspired by her words. I related to the feelings of suppression and putting the part of me I knew to be true to the back of my mind to pretend it didn’t exist. The part of me that I know is also attracted to woman. I’ve got that feeling where my tummy is doing flips by even just typing it. Because I’ve never faced it until now.
I’ve been in heterosexual relationships my whole life and have been in my current relationship for the last 10 years. I have young children who are my everything. This is part of the question that runs through my mind, how can I be in a long term relationship with a man, be a mum and still know that I do have an attraction to woman too? Does it make me a bad person? Or a bad mum? My partner would also likely feel betrayed that I never talked about this. I don’t even know how he would feel about it. There are so many scenarios in my head.
I’m still not ready to verbalise what I am but at least I have finally admitted it to myself. Maybe over time, meeting the right people and continuing to be inspired within the STW community I will one day be at my bravest. But for now, all I know is that Dom sparked something within me to be true to myself. I’m a thirty year old bisexual.

Lili

A part of me always knew, since I was a child I had a class of attention for women, I always liked to be helpful with them, to take care of them, to be for them.
But I had never seen this kind of relationship until I was 13 – 14 years old, that’s when I realized that this society and my family would not receive me with open arms. And I struggled for years to stop being myself, it was a very difficult time, where I hated myself. I told myself that this was going to happen and that I wasn’t really a lesbian.
It was that time with that girl, that only by the touch of her hand with my hand I knew that this was not a stage that was totally wrong.
Then I met someone like me who lived her life freely, we became friends. I filled her with questions because I wanted to know why this had happened to me, was it normal? Why couldn’t I get the woman I liked out of my mind? Should I tell my parents?
I am grateful that she helped me to find myself and not wish for death, I know she went through her hell too.
And I also discovered that it was not just her and me but that a very large community was supporting and encouraging us to go and get these colors out.
Now I am proud of who I am, I have no doubt. I know it’s still hard for me, I have no support in my family. But that doesn’t stop me, if I have to walk alone, I will do it.
Thank you for this space, Dom, you also had a hand in finding out where I belong.

Sunsets on Mars are blue

I’ve always liked science and reading about anything and everything I could. I grew up as a very curious kid, and was mix of sporty and bookworm. I loved structure and the sense of control that sports gave me. But what I was never able to achieve was to be feminine enough to be seen as a traditional girl and of course I was not a boy either. I was once again a dycotomy, and that mix in my gender expression translated for over fifteen years in being a loner. I love learning and as much as reading about society and history makes me passionate, I came to recognize that I had been avoiding knowing about myself, my truth self. For years I tried to model my behaviour and looks to fit into some image others had created of me and I was so thirsty to fullfill, specially what I thought my parents wanted me to be. I admit now that I was scared of the knowledge that was already deep inside me: I liked girls. The simple thought of it felt to me like I was flirting with something that was out of my reach. I tried to numb it during my teen age years until I relapsed into an episode of severe depression. Now I wonder how many years of deep sadness I could have avoided if I had listened to myself instead of letting the outside noise damp my own voice. I have always known I am gay. Proof of that is how many times I had crushes with female superheroes (Hallee Berry as Storm in XMen was maybe my first) and how many times I craved to be more similar to certain strong female figures (like Ronda Rousy). The knowledge was always there, waiting for me to open that chapter of my own life. My self-acceptance felt like washing my worries away while getting soaked in pouring rain: cleansing and comforting. Then came my very first real relationship with some girl I met in college that quickly morphed into a psychologically violent relationship. It still stings to think of myself as an intimate partner violence survivor as well as a sexual assault survivor. I failed to protect myself because I focused on filling an image that wasn’t my own. Now as I work as a therapist and have made peace with my past I wonder, how many other queer kids like me are in a greater danger to be hurt because they feel the need to hide? How many adults grow up as broken humans because they get denied the chance to shine in their own light? I mourn for the queer kid I was. For that little girl who loved sports and to dress like a boy, who loved climbing trees and wanted more than anything to be able to be the red Power Ranger instead of the pink one. I mourn for all the queer kids like me who are still waiting to shine. If one of you is reading this I can tell you, it gets better, you are loved and wanted just as you are. I finally made peace, I am in a relationship sith a wonderful woman who showed me her acceptance and love to my truth self when she looked for sciencey facts that she knew would make me happy to know. Now in my ribs shines my tattoo with the first fun fact she looked for me: Sunsets on Mars are blue.
I am not longer afraid of knowing myself completely: I am a therapist, still love science, I love sports, I still dress a lot of times more masculine. I am a gay woman and proud. I am loved. I am valid. I am wanted. I belong.
So if you are still seeking, still waiting, if you feel alone I tell you this: I got your back, always, I am your family now. You are wanted, you are loved, please keep shining with your own light.

The woman in Compartment C, Car 193

I didn’t come to terms with my sexuality until I tried to be everything else but myself first. Even today, I shy away from receiving love. I remember feeling myself let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding at Electric Forest on June 26th, 2015. I remember the day before not being as colorful. It was in Nashville years prior that I took my first big step to come out. It was midnight and sleep was impossible those days. I slipped out through the back door of the second story entrance down a long staircase past the window of my sleeping roommates, and I would get into the car and drive down the rocks of Battlefield Drive. I drove alone on the streets of Nashville past Sevier park, past Belmont University, and I would hear the clash of live bands outside of the bars off Broadway. This was the only way I could quiet my anxieties. Sometimes, Abigail and William would pick me up in their wagon and take me to East Nashville. We would walk into their bare house and go to the back yard and start the fire pit. William would turn on Delta Spirit, and they would let me talk about whatever it was that was keeping me up at night. It was always the same thing, but I wasn’t brave enough to talk about it. So I talked around it, and they let me. They gave me the space I needed to talk circles around my sexuality until I felt safe enough to talk about it directly. After I did, I was able to come out to my friends one by one. I flew to NYC to have dinner with a friend and to tell her I loved her when we were in high school. At JFK, I called my mom and started crying as I told her what I confessed to my friend. I asked her if that was okay and if she stilled loved me (which she said of course). Coming out wasn’t hard just the first time. It was hard every time, and even after coming out and moving to Los Angeles, I still found myself hiding behind terms that didn’t fit me, like bisexuality. I spent the first couple years in Los Angeles testing the waters, but still feeling like I wasn’t confident enough to be myself. Even today, I have to remind myself to let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. And this isn’t always the same breath. We are constantly restricting ourselves in different ways, oftentimes unnoticed. The times that I am the happiest are the times I didn’t even realize I was letting go. I was just being me at that moment, not for anyone else, and not for any other purpose but to be.

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.

Thompkell (she/her)

I have a vivid memory of walking home from school when I was 13 years old. Where my steady footsteps on the pavement, the soft weight of my backpack, and the gentle warmth of afternoon sunshine created the conditions for my mind to wander to romantic curiosities about one of my best friends – a girl (like me). The memory doesn’t stay with me as a milestone for my first gay thought (which I’m not even sure would be accurate), but it hovers because of the innocence that emerged when I remember telling myself afterwards with a playful shrug – “I’m sure everyone has thoughts like this.”

Whether or not more people ever do feel a pull to kiss their same-sex friends, my experience was that it was unsafe to consider – so forget talk about – that this desire could be any part of my truth. But there was something enchanting about the tension that I then began to experience as I felt called to acknowledge this part of myself.

I had to make a choice.

So instead of pulling myself together – I split and divided core facets of my being to maintain an illusion of a “normal” life and to hide the pieces I was not ready to accept.

The division, as one might expect, led to secrecy and a dynamic where I could only find true happiness in controlled, private, and hidden spaces. Escapism and disconnection. And, as if to further confuse my inherent sense of self and intuition, my friend – who I had imagined kissing – ended up playing in these shadows with me. We “dated” in the later years of high school – a secret we kept from literally everyone else in our lives. But where we were each coming from, at our cores, wasn’t aligned. She would cycle through boyfriends and force a hard separation from our day life and our shadowed life. I started living a life so empty on the surface – craving the time in the shadows – that I became numb to who I was spending time with when it wasn’t her.

I lost my centre.
I lost my own personal sense of who I was since I was craving to exist in the only one place I permitted and allowed myself to connect to what I was truly feeling.

Eventually it became too much to maintain the separation between the two lives. When I had approached her with the confession – that what I felt in the shadows was something I wanted to share with the light – I was met with hostility and denial. This would start a dysfunctional pattern of dismissing my own needs for those I love. How can you develop any sense of confidence in yourself when the person you care about most and feel you can be your truest self with is ashamed of who you are? Can look you right in your eyes, speak directly to your heart and tell you that who you are and what you feel is wrong?

But perhaps the biggest hurt was to realize that we did not feel the same way about what we were experiencing. That the space we had created together was starkly unsafe for me to feel the way I felt.
My world began to collapse.

I had separated an incredibly significant piece of my identity from the rest of my experience, and since I had defined my happiness based on how worthy I was in someone else’s eyes, my core became a void. Who was I? An emptiness emerged from the gaping hole that I had been filling with validation from others – validation I did not recognize I needed to be seeking from myself first. And when the sadness shifted to numbness it became an exceedingly difficult vibration to move out of – especially when fear and shame took control.

Then in the swirl of sadness, shame, confusion, loss, and uncertainty – the emergent realization that maybe I am gay snapped any remaining stability out from under me. To be this way wasn’t safe, especially if my love won’t be reciprocated, wasn’t enough, or was to be used as a weapon to demonize me. I couldn’t trust myself if this kind of happiness also meant so much harm.

But what is a “coming out story”?

I would love to say that this was the lowest point of my life through this journey – but that isn’t the case. I would also love for this to have been the moment that I accepted and acknowledged my place in the LGBTQ2IA+ community – but that isn’t true either. It would take many years to get to where I am today, and maybe I will always be going through the process of coming out and deepening my self acceptance.

What is the case though, truly, is that as I have found more self acceptance, the people in my life and the world (I believe) have also been finding softer hearts and raising their levels of acceptance, awareness, and love – consciously and subconsciously. And I genuinely believe that we will only get better. We will only love more. We will only build on and grow our collective kindness and compassion.

And, at least based on my experience, I deeply believe all of this is possible through the simple, challenging work of each of us turning inwards towards ourselves – first – and lovingly embracing all of who we are.

Change doesn’t need to be a light switch – but trust that lights shine their brightest in the dark.

Thank you for creating this space for us to share. Thank you for starting this wave of change and inspiration. Thank you for your sincerity and courage.
xo

They’ll Never Stop Shining

Stars have always been present somehow in my life. This may seem like a weird way to start off, but trust me; it’ll make sense. I always would take a moment and pause when getting out of the car at night to look at the stars, even if there were barely any in the sky, I’d try my hardest to point one out. My first and middle names are named after my grandmothers names, which in greek translated to “shining star”. To me, it connected the stars to who I am and my roots. For me to have this weird connection to them, it was only fitting they’d be there in the moment.

It was the day after new years, 2017, and I had only just turned 16 a month prior. I was worried about going into my senior years of high school, who I was as a person and so many other things a 16 year old would be worried about. Turns out I wasn’t the only one, so two of my friends at the time, one of their mothers and I planned a small trip to one of their grandparent’s alpaca farm for three days to ease off some of the stress before we started one of our last years in high school. It was spacious and cozy, the alpacas’ fleece had just been cut a few days before and they all ran around along with the dog.

It was on the second day we were there that the three of us decided to set up a tent outside of the house and camp out. We talked about the most random things. A lot of it was me randomly interrupting conversation because I would mistake the noise of a wild kangaroo for a person, but that’s besides the point. We were all comfortable in our company and relaxed. One of my friends got tired and left the other and I outside the tent as she went to sleep. We continued talking for about everything and nothing till 3:30 in the morning. I don’t leave Sydney much, and when I do it’s usually to other cities;

I had never seen a sky so clear. I felt like I was looking upon galaxies, I’d never seen colour in the sky like I did then.

So, as the conversation naturally flew into the topic I told my friend, “I don’t think I’m straight.”

It was odd that I didn’t feel scared as I thought I was going to, I don’t know if it was the fact my friend was also queer that calmed me or the fact I was looking at a sight I had never seen before but felt so connected to. In that moment, even though I felt like there was still so much of me to figure out, I knew that was my truth and I was finally comfortable and confident to let someone know.

That whole conversation under the stars remains one of my favourites. I’m not as close wth the girl I told anymore but she told me it was one of her favourite conversations as well, which brightens a special place in my heart.

Since then, I’ve come out to all my friends and my sister. Though I still don’t know it all, one thing I know for sure is that when I pause for a moment to look up for a star in the sky- I’ll know even if I can’t see any, they’ll still be shining a light, somehow saying they see me. All of me.

And they see you too.

– Styliana | 19 | Queer | AU

Anonymous – Pansexual

I knew I was part of the community when I was 7 because I had crushes on both genders but I was scared to tell anyone and specifically my family. And I am still scared to tell my family to this day. Unfortunately, because of this barrier / secret I have, I became emotionally distant from them since I was around 13. I told a couple of my close friends when I was 15-16 and they were all accepting of it. Luckily I lived in a diverse city but my immediate family / community are very close minded. Growing up, although my friends knew, I didn’t really have a community I can rely on. So, I’m so glad to have found Wynonna Earp because Earpers and the community helped me discover and accept who I am. I was scared to even say the phrase “I am queer” to anyone before Earpers. Now, I say it quite often and hopefully one day I will have the courage to say it to my family. So, thank you Earpers and Wynonna Earp for the community.

A proud lesbian

i knew i was a member of the lgbtqia + community when i was around 12. i had no idea what it meant to be gay or to like women. but i knew i was different. I knew that when i looked at girls i would get flutters in my stomach. and i knew that i would see myself with them. a few years later i found a webseries called carmilla. and all my sexual and emotional connections to woman came flooding out. after i finished the show i came out to the first person. it was rushed and i was scared and i had no idea if the way i felt was even real. but i told my friend ‘ i’m gay’ after months of fighting with myself i finally told someone. and it wasn’t the great relief you think of. it was horrible; i felt anxious and scared and i wanted to take it back. but i couldn’t. and after hearing that my friend supported me; it gave me hope. so the next few months i came out to more of my friends. but not yet my closest. as i knew it would be scary. but when i came out to my best friend at the time, she told me it was all ok and nothing i could say would change our friendship. so then i thought it would be ok to come out to my parents. i first came out to my dad on new years eve. i didn’t say the word gay because at the time labels scared me. but i told him i like girls. and he said he knew already and it wasn’t a big deal. and i was so happy. but i knew my mum was next, and i knew she was religious. and coming out to her would be a whole different experience. so when i saw her next i sat her down and told her i likes girls. she told me she already knew because my dad had told her. i was so heartbroken and hurt that my dad could out me when i wasn’t ready to be outed. i felt this hurt running through my body. and 3 years later i’m still not quite over him doing that. and my mum hasn’t been the best. she doesn’t like labelling me as as a lesbian. even though i told her i am comfortable with the label. it’s still a battle everyday to fully expect who i am but day by day it’s getting better and i am proud to call myself a lesbian after years of suppressing it. i am a lesbian.