Community Rainbow Waves

A transwoman, finally able to be herself

I first realized something about me was different when I was about 14. All the boys in my religious private school, which was gender segregated, started noticing girls. I noticed girls, and boys, but more importantly I wanted to be the girls. This was during a time when it was very much not acceptable to be trans. And in the religious community where I lived, even more so. I was told, “a person can either be queer, or they can be Jewish. They can’t be both.” And the Jewish community was my world, my life. It was everything I knew.

Over the next few years, I struggled with myself and my identity, up-and-down and up-and-down. I tried to pray the gay away. I tried being hyper masculine, to offset what I knew was the real person inside me. Nothing worked, nothing made the pain of living a lie go away. And I would spiral up-and-down and up-and-down. And then I couldn’t take it anymore.

I sat my spouse down, and I explained to her how I have been feeling and how I was not the person that she thought she married. I had my bags packed, and I fully expected her to throw me out. And to my utter surprise, and as I started sobbing common she didn’t. She hugged me and said “OK. Let’s deal with this together.”

Since then, I have come out, I’m living my truth, and I could never be happier. I’ve met family members who I never knew before, and found the family of my heart. And I could not possibly be happier. My wife accepts me for who I am, my children accept me for who I am. And that’s all that’s really important.

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

Bi

I fell for the first girl in grade 9, had my first girlfriend last year and am in my last year of high school . I came out to my friends and then my family . Sometimes I feel like I have to choose a gender and then worry that I’m not being true to who I am . In a way , I fall for connections more than anything as it is one of the most important parts of a relationship to me (and friendship) . I thought I would have it figured out by the time I turn 18 , but I guess the universe hasn’t aligned my stars just yet (no I don’t read horoscopes 🙂 ) but I’m slowly working on it and truth be told , there is so much time to figure out who I really am and it doesn’t happen without experience and patience. I hope to help others going through the same doubts and worries. There’s always gold (or a queer) at the end of the rainbow.

No Labels, Just Love

As a young child, I was kind fascinated by lesbian relationships on tv; Bad Girls (UK), All Saints (Aus), The L Word (USA) etc. etc., but this was all on the downlow. I’d watch the shows with little to no interest during the day and devour fanfiction stories about them by night. I had some instances of “experimentation” with a friend or two, but that didn’t mean what I thought it meant, did it? I went to secondary school, had no boyfriends, stuck with my fanfiction, and found “hot male celebrities” to “have a crush on” to balance the “girl crushes” I had. In my mind, I was totally chill with this me who ~has crushes on men and women~, but in person? I didn’t talk about it with anyone; I was scared because I didn’t want to hurt people, upset them, lose them.

In year 10 (UK age 14/15), my social circle expanded and grew to include a girl my best friend had met in another class, L. She and I quickly became close friends and it was great, until I heard that L and her childhood best friend had ‘messed around together’. Here my brain was like “wowww, another non-straight girl like me!”. I became slightly obsessed, I’ll admit. L was my best friend but she’d flirt with me; call me sexy specs while having a boyfriend, snuggle up with me then go and see him. I thought I was in love with her. I eventually grew a pair, picked my self respect up off the floor and walked away from that hot mess.
After a while, I met a guy friend at work and we became really close, like brother and sister. One night we were chatting and he came out to me as bi, so I did the same back. It fit at the time, but it was also the easy way out; it was a label and not a label. He helped me to be open about not being straight in a way I’d never been able to before and I’m still so grateful for that. We eventually found Tumblr and it gave us a place to “be honest in a sea of strangers”; it changed my life, quite literally.

On Tumblr, I met a girl. This girl became my friend, then my best friend, then so much more. She was like nothing I’d ever met before, made me feel things in technicolour and UV. She taught me it was okay to be me, to be different, to be honest and feel the things I felt. She was the reason I came out, the reason I wanted to come out. The day we met in London, I left my mum a letter explaining about me, about us, and that I had made arrangements for somewhere else to stay if she wasn’t okay with me any more. Half an hour away from London on the train I received a text from my mum telling me that we were okay, she was okay, and that she loved me. That was now eight years ago, and that girl is currently sitting next to me on our sofa, in our home, the day after our eighth anniversary.

Coming out is something I do every time I meet someone new, but it doesn’t have to be a huge declaration. I used to be petrified about it; my heart rate would spike, I’d get sweaty palms, I’d be all stuttery and lame about it. But now? “Yeah, I live with my girlfriend.” “Me and my girlfriend went there”. “I went to visit my mum with my girlfriend”. The other day, I was asked at work if I was a gay woman (due to my rainbow lanyard, not out of the blue!). Even a year or two ago, that question would have sent me into a panic. But this day, I held my head up, kept eye contact and said “yeah, I am”.

I still don’t really like labels or definitions but: I am a woman in love with another woman and that is okay.

Feel free to exhale homosexuality

For me, understanding my sexuality has meant going through several mental chaos. Before understanding my sexual identity, I had to first understand my sexuality. In my adolescence, while everyone was talking about girls, boys, sex or kissing, I only thought about playing sports and going to the movies. I was not attracted to anyone, neither boys nor girls. And that made me feel like a freak, because everyone was already having a partner or, at least, a taste for someone, except me. I went out with a couple of guys and those have been (until now, 10 years later) the most boring dates of my life.
Also, before discovering my homosexuality I discovered sexual pleasure through masturbation. The first times I felt guilty about doing it because everybody knows that men masturbate, but what a horror if a girl does it. And so, for a couple more years, I was still not attracted to anyone, and did not need to have anyone.
It wasn’t until I entered college that I met the love of my life. This girl stirred up each and every one of my hormones that, until that moment, seemed dead. Unfortunately, it was an unrequited love, because she was suffering for a boy who did not pay as much attention to her as I was suffering for her.
The first person I told about my possible homosexuality was my best friend. His words of comfort (because yes, for him that confession was comforting) were “Relax, you’re not gay, you’re just confused. Let me tell you, there is nothing more confusing than when you are told you are confused. His consolation created a (other) mental chaos for me: how do I know if what I’m feeling is real or if I’m making it up? How do I know if I’m one hundred percent sure of something or if I’m confused and haven’t noticed? Furthermore, what does it mean that I am confused?
With those doubts in my head I entered my first relationship. The first month was a mental chaos because it was my first time (in every way), and it was with a girl. Because of the macho and conservative country I live in (Peru), being gay was seen as something negative. (Level: the same police officers assaulted both gays and lesbians) So, for someone like me, who has always tried to do the right thing and be a better person in every way, the idea of being gay made me ashamed. I mean, I knew it wasn’t a bad thing per se, but I was embarrassed that I wasn’t “normal. I was embarrassed to be something that was seen in a bad light. That’s why I didn’t tell my parents about it. However, as the days went by the mental chaos became more acute, so I thought it would be best to talk about it, maybe I could lean on them to understand me…. The reaction they had was shocking. You definitely don’t really know your family until you come out of the closet. From my mother I expected some rejection for being Catholic, but there was only silence. Not a single word for several days. Until she came over one night and told me to be careful because I could get AIDS. Yes, AIDS. It was the middle of the 21st century and I still believed that you get AIDS just by coming out of the closet.
On the other hand, my father is half relaxed, to the point of letting my brother smoke marijuana in the house. But it seems that drugs are not as serious as homosexuality. As soon as I finished telling him that I thought he was gay, my father started crying. There is nothing more ridiculous than seeing a big, loud person cry because his daughter is a lesbian. He started crying because it turns out that homosexuality is a disease. It turns out that homosexuality is a product of some childhood trauma. It turns out that homosexuality is an impediment to marrying and giving birth to grandchildren. And, in between cries, she began to apologize for whatever she did to make me believe it was “it”.
So far, when I think about that scene, I am aware that my departure was not tragic, it was just disappointing. At that moment I realized that I was alone in all that mental chaos. And I accepted it. You’re not always going to have someone to lean on, so I decided to raise myself to be my own source of support. But, of course, going through that chaos alone is not easy. It took me several more years before I could stop feeling ashamed of myself, and feel truly comfortable in my own skin. And it is only now, at 28, that I feel free to breathe out my homosexuality.
Now, because I’m half antisocial, my story hasn’t inspired anyone (because I don’t talk to anyone), but, if anyone keeps reading this far, what I can tell you is that, it’s not about forcing someone to accept you, it’s about how, as long as you love yourself, little by little things and people around you are going to shape up to you. And, one more thing, Respect. Even if someone lowers himself to the level of disrespect or seeks to harm you, as long as you hold your head up high, little by little you will be the one who wins.
Thank you very much for reading this will. Much love.
Ariana.

Bi

Last year when I watched Wynonna and ever since then I have watched girls and wanted them as muck as I wanted boys but I not out yet as I am still in school and scared of what people think as my friend is out and gets a lot of hate and I am scared

I am me.

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

Since I was a little girl I felt so confused as to why I saw the girls the same way all of my friends saw the boys, I could understand why they thought the boy looked cute, this only added to my confusion. I struggled silently until the summer before high school, my best friend asked me to meet up with another girl who she liked, that was the first time I realised I was not alone. We went to the city and her friend joined us there, she too had come along with a friend, I remember seeing her and I knew instantly I was attracted to her, I didn’t just think she was pretty, there was so many more feelings going on in my head than that. We spent the entire day just smiling at each other, we both went incredibly shy, I dared to think maybe she felt it too. This was back when msn was the in thing so we spent hours upon hours talking to each other every evening and we met up a couple of times with our friends, after the third time we met up I confessed to her I liked her and how confused it was making me feel, luckily she was understanding as she felt the same way. I was so excited to have found someone who understood me for me but I was terrified of what my family and friends would think, how could I possibly tell them I had a girlfriend? The first person I turned to was my sister and she was so supportive, she still helps me to remain positive even to this day. She told me she loved me no matter what and that my family would say the same, but I was still terrified to tell my parents, especially my mum, I come from a Catholic family, church every Sunday, Catholic schools. I decided to wait a bit to tell the rest of my family but my friends started questioning me when we returned to school, so I decided to tell them, I was unapologetically out and proud at school and honestly no one even battered an eyelid, in fact a few other girls and one boy in my year also came out a couple of weeks later, which was incredible. When I eventually told my parents my mum told me it was a phase, I had been dreading hearing that, it broke me. I left my girlfriend and became seriously depressed, my mum was and still is my rock, I needed her support the most. I completely lost myself after that, all of my friends started meeting guys and going to parties, I decided I needed to be ‘normal’ and so I did the same, I was getting attention and so decided to just go for it but although I enjoyed the partying and even the attention, I was missing something, I felt so empty inside. High school was over and I had spent 4 years of my life battling against my heart to be ‘normal’ and I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, I had been to prom the night before and it just all felt so fake, this wasn’t me and I didn’t want to be here if I couldn’t be me, I took an overdose, my mum found me and rushed me to hospital, I wasn’t in a good way but I pulled through, I had to agree to go to councilling before the would let me go home, so I did. I went along and told them what I knew they wanted to here but it was all a lie, I was hurting so badly inside. I decided to go on an online forum for lesbians and just talk to people in the hope it would make me feel okay being the real me, I met a girl on there and we really hit it off. We met up and she was my first true love, after a short while I moved away from home and lived with her and her family, we eventually got our own place and I felt like I could be me, the real me. Unfortunately she wasn’t the loving person I thought she was and she did a lot of very bad things, she broke me to pieces but my mum was there to pick me back up. She told me she understood and it was okay, she loved me no matter what, she loved me for me, the real me. Every part of me wanted to believe her but the voices inside repeatedly screamed ‘it’s just a phase’ and so I drank to numb the pain of a heart break and the feeling of rejection, of being a freak. I spent two years working to go out and drink and/or do drugs, my world was spiraling out of control and I knew I needed help but felt the only person I could turn to was my sister and so that is was I did. I turned up at her door in tears, she held me and her husband called my parents, within 15 minutes my parents, brother and his wife had all come to my sisters home, they told me it was okay to be me, they just wanted me to be okay and to realise my worth and how much I meant to them and from that day I never looked back. I haven’t touched drugs in 6 years, I have a pint or 6 if the footballs on but supporting Norwich City does that to you! I don’t smoke. I am out and proud again, at home, with my friends and at work. I am currently planning my wedding with my Fiancé for 2022 and my whole family will be there and hers. Sometimes the road is tough, really relentlessly tough but stick it out. Find your person, find them and talk to them, always, tell them your fears, your worries and allow them to reassure your that you are perfect the way you are.

Queer all the way

I realised when I was 29. But this was a cognitive type of realising as my heart already knew for a long time. I grew up watching straight couples in movies and tv-shows. These were the characters the viewer was supposed to identify with. I tried dating men and everybody around me just assumed I was heterosexual. I dated men who I thought were intelligent, attractive and kind. But my heart always said NO. One day a bisexual woman told me about her journey. Her story liberated something inside of me. I opened up… to myself, to the world and to new ideas. How could I not have seen that I was into women all the time? Yes, I like girls! This is me!

Let’s make a better world by showing our true colors

I think I always knew I was queer. However, when I was 12 I fell in love for the first time, just like you see straight kids do… and it was so beautiful, so truthful and so right. I never once though it was a bad thing, it was all so natural, so pure… And I didn’t even know what homossexuality was, I just knew I liked that girl so much it made my stomach hurt, in a wonderful way, so never questioned myself and I always fully accepted who I was because, at age of 12, we don’t really understand what prejudice and homophobia was and why people would think our love was wrong.

But then I started to grow and realized that society abhor who I was and it was when I started being untruthful with myself and hide the Real me for years… that felt like centuries.

At that time I believe I was bisexual, so I dated a few guys, but I never felt anything and never understood why… if I was bisexual shouldn’t I be also attracted to people of the opposite sex?!
As the years went by, the doubt inside of me grow stronger, it was like I was suppressing the answer unconsciously.

And then, in 2018, my mom found out about me, she had read the messages my (ex) girlfriend and I shared and I had never felt so disrespected in my life. She seemed so okay with who I was, but at the same time I knew she was lying and only trying to make me feel safe.
However, the past year we struggled a lot, she didn’t accept my True Self, she accepted all the parts of me BUT one. For a year my heart was breaking and breaking, in times I could even hear my heart shattering inside of me… and I still don’t feel like she fully accepts me, she keeps denying that part of me.

Nevertheless, we became closer this year and, in a way, I am grateful for that year of suffering and questioning because it forced me to look beyond the surface. I had to engage in some introspection and I finally had the courage to truly accept who I am. I finally had the courage to admit I wasn’t attracted to men at all and that it was okay.

Despite all the hate and prejudice that the world insists on throwing at us. I am really proud of who I am and I will walk in this world with my head held high because there is nothing wrong with being my unapologetic self.

The darkness and pain never ends

Am a bisexual who haven’t come out to my family, but told my close friends
I know my family will never approve and I don’t want to lose them. They the only thing I’ve got.