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I knew I was a part of the LGBTQ+ community roughly at the age of 7 it was definitely hard for me to come out since both of my parents are religious, (babtist & Apostolic) I had came out to my mom at the age of 10 and never came out to my dad cause I would get thrown out of my home. Luckily both of my siblings and mom accepted me and I felt really validated but sadly I am never able to tell my father which gives me horrible anxiety and other thoughts (as well as other stuff). I am now 13 and I have helped many of my friends through coming out as well as figuring out who they are.

Kaleen’s Journey

Your personal journey to finding yourself¬–whether you’re queer or not¬–is a universal thing we all experience. As unique and individual those journeys may be, the feelings and emotions are something we all share, and I find that to be so beautiful!

Love is love, hurt is hurt, heavy is heavy, hard is hard, joy is joy. Remember we all experience these things together and no one should judge anyone’s story and compete over struggles, but rather find connections and how much we all share as people. Let’s all continue to grow, love and support each other and continue this wave of self-love and discovery!

So that said, I would love to share my experience publicly for the first time, in the hopes it helps someone else find their truth. <3

I’m Kaleen and I identify as lesbian, queer and gay. I am 28 years old and I’m an art director and actress in San Francisco. For me, and I’m sure many of you, finding myself and accepting myself are two very different things and came at very different times in my life. Next week, I proudly celebrate my 4 year wedding anniversary with my amazing wife (we’ve been together for over 8 years) so my story has a very happy ending! But it definitely didn’t start that way.

For most of my life, I did not realize I was gay. I didn’t even consider it as an option. I grew up in a religious household with a mother who I believe after years of therapy to have Borderline personality disorder (BPD). It was not a healthy or emotionally safe environment for me. I truly believed that I was just an amazing Christian who was waiting till marriage (for you know)… but waiting was super easy for me because I had ZERO desire to be intimate with a man. Even when I had boyfriends and would kiss them, I would find myself counting down the seconds till it was over. I truly thought everyone felt this way and it was something I would learn to like and we all just have to get over that hurdle of disgust. I would see my friends falling head over heels for their boyfriends and wonder how they got over that hurdle, and think I’ll get there soon too… that day didn’t come for me.

Knowing myself now and looking back, there were so many “clues” that I was gay, but it still did not cross my mind. I remember watching the show House and there was an episode when Olivia Wilde’s character, Thirteen, came out as bisexual. The scene where she kissed another woman, I remember rewinding and watching it a few times. This was one of the first times I’d seen this on T.V. and it was the start of my eyes opening into what is possible. This is why representation is SO important!

Fast forward to college. This is when my life flipped on its head! I found myself in a relationship with a man and we got engaged (for his privacy, I will call him John). He was a wonderful human, and I truly thought I was “in” love. I did love him, but just not the way he deserved to be loved, and not the way I deserved to experience it. At this time, I also built a wonderful friendship with a girl and we became best friends. When I got engaged to John, something in me snapped because my mind knew that eventually I will have to have sex with this person. This tossed me into a deep depression and in doing so, also opened my eyes to a past I had bolted shut. I realized all in one moment, that I was gay, in love with my best friend, and I also had PTSD with memories of being sexually abused by a family member for half my childhood flooding my mind, all while going to school full time and holding a job to pay rent. It was a lot to discover all at one time and I felt completely overwhelmed and alone. The only person I felt comfortable sharing all these pieces of myself with was my best friend Kay. Little by little I had to confront and try to accept all these things happening in my life.

At this time, I asked John to give me space. He understood that I was having trouble with my PTSD and needed to distance myself from him. We were fully separated for over 3 months with no communication as I worked to find myself again and heal from my past.

Kay was patient and helped me heal, and through all this we became unbelievably close. At this time, she was not out as gay either. Funny enough, we did not even realize that our relationship was different than other girl/girl relationships because it felt so natural to the point we didn’t stop and ask ourselves if this was “normal”. Needless to say, we figured it out together. At this point, I still wasn’t sure if I was going to allow myself to live an authentic life because I knew in doing this, I would lose family. Before I said yes or no, I gave myself one day to openly (in the privacy of my home) love Kay and acknowledge how we felt for one another. We spent the day just holding each other, laughing, and enjoying how we felt. As the clock drew near to midnight, our hearts began to sink as we knew we only had this moment. To this day, I can’t watch All Dogs Go To Heaven because that was on in the background. We shared one last amazing kiss and then walked into separate rooms. Oh, did I not mention we were also roommates! Yeah… that made things even harder!

Days turned into weeks of me pretending like I could live without her, till I just couldn’t take it anymore. I decided I would let myself be gay if, and only if, my sister could be ok with it. Lucky for me, she was open to trying to understand. It was at this point I officially ended my engagement with John. I returned the ring and we had a wonderful moment of thanking each other for all the good times and wished nothing but happiness and healing to one another. A few months after this, I began my first true relationship with Kay.

I came out to my family and my father and stepmom were amazingly supportive and even helped pay for my therapy during all this, but my mother would not accept my truth. She said to me “I would rather you be unhappy in this lifetime, but forever happy in the kingdom of god” and asked me to deny myself love and live alone. I gave myself the best gift I could and will ever give and decided to fully embrace my love for Kay regardless of what this person thought. It was hard, it’s still hard to think about, but it’s what was best for me. Years later when we became engaged, my mom officially removed herself from my life and we haven’t seen or spoken since.

Like I said in the beginning of the story, Kay and I have now been together for over 8 years and we are about to celebrate our 4 year wedding anniversary on April 2nd. She is my absolute best friend and I don’t have words for how much I love her. She is the first time I have experienced unconditional love, and I value her with everything I am. Deciding to accept myself and live an openly gay life is the best decision I’ve made for myself and it’s a privilege I will never take for granted.

I wish everyone who reads this love and acceptance within themselves. You are love, you are here and you stay. Xoxo

I am a transgender man.

I grew up very clueless about anything lgbtq+, but even then I got lucky enough to have a mother that didn’t push me to be or feel any certain way, so when I was old enough to form my own sense of self I 100% knew-or at least I though I did. From the age of 11 I identified as a lesbian and felt confident in my identity. I had used YouTube and tumblr to find out things on my own and come to a firm sense of “yes this is me.” I told my mother not long after and, she to no surprise, was loving and supportive. I lived, identifying as a lesbian until I was 16, but something never felt right. I began high school at 14, kept most of my childhood friends, and even started a relationship with an amazing girl! But not long after, the discomfort in myself grew and grew until I was so uncomfortable in my own skin that it left me locked in my bedroom. The discomfort had always been there ever since I was a child, but I had always ignored it-so it confused me as to why it was getting unbearable now. I once again turned to YouTube and tumblr for help. I did my own research, and heard people’s stories-they gave a words to put to a feeling. It was a realization of “I feel like that too.” I wasn’t a lesbian, but a man. All of my discomfort and hatred of the thought of looking down in the shower, and fear of going out in public finally had a word, transgender. My girlfriend was the first to know, she loved and supported me. She was patient when there were days when I couldn’t be touched. She helped me test out a few different names. A couple months go by and I come out a second time to my mom. She was again loving as supported (and also not surprised). She bought me my first binder, and she tried(s) her very best to use he/him or gender neutral pronouns. I am now 19 and starting my journey to hormone replacement therapy. I got so lucky to have such a strong support system. My story is a very positive one and I am forever grateful for my mom, my friends, and my girlfriend.

Thank you for reading my story 🙂

A hopeful wanderer in search of ways to better myself and the world around me. And yeah, I also happen to be a gay girl.

Growing up, I had these weird attractions towards female leads of a couple of shows. At the time, my 13 year old self thought that maybe I respect them a whole lot and that is the only reason I feel this way. And even though I did respect them, I always knew at the back of my mind that it wasn’t the whole story.
I was fundamentally different from the people around me when I was growing up. My environment was somewhat of a rigid structure. It still is. Where I live, there is only one way to be a girl and one way to be a guy. You wander off from those norms and you’re considered weird and forced to act and put up a face that’s ‘normal’. I was a tomboyish kind of a girl, always into sports and wearing jeans and tees instead of proper lady dresses with makeup and jewellery. And for that reason, I was always made fun of. It did bother me but thankfully I never let it destroy my identity.
When I was around 15, I realized that I had a crush on my best friend. That my attraction to her was more than a friend. And at the same time, I realized that I was not like the girls around me crushing over guys. Because I had been crushing over girls the whole time.
This led to me focussing a little more on what my heart was saying. And with some introspection, I realized that i had been pushing down a huge part of me for very long. And now I had a concrete proof that this was not just a one time thing with a movie character, I had actual feelings for an actual person.
It took some time to understand that my sexuality is an essential part of me that is not meant to be hidden away.
It’s been 5 years since I accepted that I am gay. It is a hard journey since the environment around me is not one that is supportive. But even though I can’t come out and be open with other people, I am still glad that I was able to be open with myself. Because for such a long time, there was no direction in my life and I felt there was something missing. But when I accepted who I was, I truly started on the path of self discovery for the first time.
I am now more open and loving towards myself. I am still trying to practice patience with my journey. But I am happy. I feel complete. And I hope that the people around the world who haven’t given themselves a chance yet to be open with themselves, find a way to peace and happiness. Because it is worth it. Because we are all worth the love.
We deserve to be loved and respected by ourselves and others.

A special bean called the lezbean

When did I know?? I had inklings and moments of suspicion that I was not like other beans in my teens. I was never into the boy beans. But my upbringing was very Christian influenced, enveloped in values that made it really hard for me to grow. It took leaving home for university, going to Vancouver, to open my eyes. I met a lot of queer beans and attended ClexaCon it’s first two years. I started consuming a lot of queer media. Eventually, this gay bean accepted herself for who she was at the age of 21. It’s been two years now and I can honestly say nothing else has ever made me happier than loving women and accepting myself for it.
When did I come out? You don’t come out once in your life. You come out over and over and over again. The first person I told was my dad in the car, on the way to lunch. Then gradually, I told my friends- most of them had a hunch anyway. Everyone I’ve told has been seriously loving. But I’ve consciously kept some people in the dark, like my mother, her being the source of the religious influences in my life. Recently, I moved to Europe. I still go to church and only three of my friends know my sexual orientation there. The first, is a bisexual girl who came out to me drunkenly at a bar. Bless her. The second, is an intern at the church who I asked for advice because I had fallen for one of the girls in our community. I specifically asked, was a relationship with her realistic? And the third person, was the aforementioned girl. She was becoming my friend and if we are to talk about love, romantic relationships, and past experiences openly, then I wanted her to know the real me. She is in fact, not queer, I’ve established. That’s okay. There are other rainbow beans out there.
Being out and openly queer in my country in Europe is very much allowed, but not common, I’ve learned. I’m going to keep my orientation to myself from now on. I fear I’m not strong enough to take on the social obstacles that I might have to face, should my orientation be widely known in my social circles. That’s okay for now. My hope is that… I can live openly one day because I’m not good at pretending to be something I’m not. People like Dom inspire me, of course. I know, in turn, I’ve inspired others as well. If I can keep that going… this nice cycle of receiving and giving, I have a lot of hope that I can get through anything life will throw at me for being “different”.
– a lezbean

Queer!

I grew up in a very conservative environment, where women are taught to aspire to have good grades and a good job just to impress people and lure the right man in to have a big jolly family… And that’s alright and fair… If it is what you really want, which is never true for most. These sort of expectations have one BIG thing missing… Where is the part about knowing thyself? Well that was basically me for the first half of my life.

All I knew was that I should be on the look out for this boy who would sweep me off my feet, lift me up from the ground and took me on his horse to a shinny happy ever after. And for that to happen I needed to be pretty, and girly, and not play ball with the other boys or act silly after a certain age, or speak out when I saw or heard something that I disagreed with… Basically be a slave to stereotypical standards… And I was great at it! Straight A student, shy and proper, church on Sundays’ great! (with the exception of Barbies… I still have no idea what’s the point of them)
Since I didn’t know anything else, I was OK with this reality. It was not until my bubble got burst, that I realized I was missing out.

In my early 20’s I had the chance to travel, and soon enough that shy, insecure girl started blooming. I was fortunate that life aligned the right people on my path, understanding, brave and genuine, that helped me grasp that all that I had conceived as “wrong” it wasn’t… It was just unknown.
It was incredible how fear was replaced with curiosity once those walls started to come down… I make it sound quite romantic but really my process was: go party, get drunk, have existential and trivial conversations at stupid hours of the night… But the important bit… It was all with the right people, with people different from me. That’s when I understood that everyone has a different path, essence and meaning, for themselves and for you.

One of these people was a girl… Chan Chan Chaaaaan.
At this point I had have relationships with boys, serious and… Not so serious (let’s leave it like that haha), but I was always looking for reasons not to stay with them, even if they were amazing; but with this girl I was instantly hooked, and it was not because of what she could give me (marriage, kids, economical solvence… whatever that means) it was because of her beautiful smile, stupid but histerical humour, her support, I even found adorable when she was being a brat… Yep… I was done…and somehow… she felt something for me too… And the rest is history…

Not the right kind of history because we didn’t end up together haha Buuuut that was when I realized that I didn’t care what the wrapping was, I loved the content, I love discovering what is inside of people, what drives them and motivates them and more importantly, finding that satisfaction for discovery in myself, the more I learn from people, the more I know myself and the more is to learn. We are in constant change, evolution and flow.

Today, I am not in a good spot, I have fallen again into trivialities and vanities that don’t make me happy. But writing about this, makes me smile, and I am motivated to continue this journey that brightened my soul.

I am a Queer woman. I fall for passionate and calm, for intriguing and simple, for silly and mature, for anything that knows how to love.

Hannah

When I was 12 years old, I had realized that I had been an oddball for the entirety of my schooling. I was different, almost like an outcast and I didn’t like it. I had realized that I like girls. My parents along with the rest of my family are incredibly homophobic, so I decided to internalize everything. I had done so for 6 years until I got to my senior year of high school. I wanted to start being myself, but I knew I couldn’t as long as I was under the same roof as my parents. Summer 2019, I moved in to college and within 3 days of being there, I had already met a girl. I could finally be myself. My parents didn’t have to know about it, everything was okay. People at college really accepted me for who I was and it was so different compared to high school. However, both my parents ended up finding out along with the rest of my family the day before my 19th birthday. A lot of my family are now hesitant to talk to me. In this period of time, lack of acceptance from them made my motivation decline. I had stopped going to my classes, I stopped eating, and I stopped taking care of myself all around. I ended up having to drop most of my classes as a music therapy major due to failing grades. I lost scholarships and money, but worst of all I had lost myself. When 2nd semester came around, I was excited for a fresh start. However, my mental health hadn’t gotten any better. I ended up having to drop out of college on a full ride in which I had been studying for my dream job as a music therapist. I live at home now with my parents and never stop getting to hear the homophobia. I’m doing my best to try and support myself as well as my girlfriend. I’m trying to get a stable job so that I can move out before the end of 2020 and plan to apply to a 2 year paralegal program so I can have a somewhat stable career. Currently, I’m a full time musician trying to record music and get my name out there for people to hear. All I have ever wanted to do was make people feel good with the music that I make, whether they relate to it or not. I want to make music for people like me, but also for people who aren’t like me. Anything to bring more positivity and awareness to the world.
I usually label myself as a lesbian, but I just want to love who I love and have it not be an issue to others that I just so happen to be attracted to women. I know that good things are to come for me, all I can do is be patient. But I’m proud to say that I like women. I had never had this much pride for something since I started playing music and it’s such a beautifully bizarre feeling. I’m happy to say that I am a 19 year old raging homosexual female.

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

Bisexual (I think)

I developed my first ever crush on a girl October of 2019, in my second year of high school. I’ve only ever had one crush before, and it was on a boy. Liking this girl scared me more than anything else I have ever known, and I still like her. I didn’t really know what to do, but I eventually told a friend who it was and I felt better. What’s weird is that I ran away before I could see a reaction. I guess I thought she would be disgusted. But she wasn’t. I then told my best friend because I felt like it was eating me up inside that she didn’t know. We were hanging out and she was talking about this boy she liked and the whole time I was thinking it’s now or never. I told her I like someone, and of course she wanted to know because I never like anyone. I almost started crying trying to tell her, hoping it wouldn’t change anything between us. I finally told her the name of the girl and she just smiled. She wasn’t mad. I was terrified. But she was okay. And I am okay. I told another friend a few weeks later. I was insanely nervous about this one because I honestly felt like she would become immediately uncomfortable. I was with the first friend I told and I kept avoiding it. But I did it.
Last week however, I decided to tell my sister. This TERRIFIED me. My sister is not at all homophobic but I felt like I couldn’t breathe just by thinking about telling her. She kept asking who I like, and I finally said it. It was weird. It still kind of is. She doesn’t treat me different or anything, I just thought we would talk about it a bit more. But it’s okay.
And that’s it. I am out as a bisexual to the 4 people closest to me.

MJ — One label at a time

My coming out story isn’t much different than the next person, I suppose. It boils down to the fact that I grew up thinking that being a straight cis-woman was the only option. While I wanted a family, the idea of fulfilling the role of Suzy-homemaker never appealed to me. I didn’t want to be a brainless baby making machine. I wanted an education, a career, and a partnership. I didn’t want what my parents had and it made me sad thinking that I would never get what I wanted, simply because I didn’t think it existed.
Fast-forward a few years and I was a High School Junior with a best friend (I’ll call her L). A best friend, who I thought would stick with me through thick and thin for the rest of my life. Oh how I was wrong. Anywho, through a long series of events L took a chance one night and kissed me. She was more shocked by my lack of negative reaction than I was. I remember thinking “wait, that was it?” and wanting to try it again. And try again we did.
For a little bit of background, I grew up in a Mormon household where I was taught that homosexuality was a sin. I knew that I had an uncle who was gay but I also knew that my Grandma had disowned him back in the 80’s at the height of the AIDS epidemic. So what I knew at that point in my life was being gay was wrong and I’d definitely go to hell if I was gay. So I never said that I was. When friends started to figure out that L and I were dating, I would say “Oh, I’m not gay. I just like L” or “I’m only like 5% into girls, so not really gay”. I was wrong, but I thought I was in love so labels didn’t really matter to me.
As most High School relationships go, our relationship only lasted about 6 months before it was over. I was devastated as she moved on to college and I was left to navigate the rest of high school by myself, without a best friend or a girlfriend. In hindsight I don’t think my devastation was caused by the loss of a relationship but rather with the mountain of questions she left me with. Was I gay? Was it just her I loved? Am I going to hell? Will I ever find someone who loves me? It wasn’t just the usual post-breakup mountain of questions I had to deal with. I was also left questioning my identity. Who I was, down to the core. So what did I do? I tried to get “rid” of my gay feelings and dove head first back into the world of heterosexuality, which didn’t last for long.
I went to college in the very liberal, LGBTQ-friendly state of Massachusetts, where I told my first college roommate that I might be bisexual. I think I chose that label not because I couldn’t pick a side (obviously an incorrect stereotype), but because I never had even kissed a boy before so I felt like it was “safe” to identify as someone who could go either way. So I gave it the good old college try and dated several men during my four years at school. Through many hookups and short lived relationships I kept finding myself saying “Hm, I’m not into him, maybe it’ll be the next guy”. I was always left with an empty feeling in my chest and the thought that maybe I was broken. I couldn’t understand how so many of my peers were able to find a partner and find happiness with that person. Maybe it just wasn’t my destiny?
I never dated any women in college despite all of my friends encouraging me to try. It didn’t feel right to me, probably since my 4 year experiment of dating men wasn’t quite finished yet and a part of me didn’t want to potentially skew the results by adding the gender I knew I had a connection with into the mix. I do have respect for the scientific method after all. It wasn’t until a cold night in October, as I was about to have sex with yet another man who’s name I never bothered to remember, did I realize that this wasn’t for me. I’ll spare you all the graphic details that helped me come to this conclusion, but ultimately I left that guy’s house at 2 A.M., without my socks and the newfound realization that I am, without a doubt, gay. I finally felt free.
I told my friends the next day and I was met with overwhelming support. I waited several months to tell my mom and again, nothing but support. A few months later I told my extended family, and to my surprise once more, full support! I felt a profound sense of relief and also guilt. Why the guilt? Well, I knew I was one of the lucky people in the LGBTQ community and I was thankful for that, but I realized that I just spent the last 5 years of my life battling internalized homophobia. Could you imagine how utterly disgusted I felt with myself? I never had a problem with homosexual people so long as I wasn’t one of them. Here I was with complete support from my family and friends and I felt like a fraud. I felt awful for identifying as part of the LGBTQ family all while I had feelings that it was wrong. I blame a lot of my internalized homophobia on my Mormon upbringing, but I also knew it had something to do with the fact that I’m a perfectionist and wanted a life that was normal. I had a life plan to get a college education, get married in my early twenties, and have children before I was thirty. In my mind, being a lesbian totally derailed that plan and it made me angry. All I ever wanted to be was “normal” and it took me until I was 24-years-old to realize that being normal, is totally fucking overrated.
So, I had officially come out to my family at 22-years-old, but something still felt off to me. I was out, I had gotten over my internalized homophobia and guilt, AND I was actually dating women. What else was missing? I didn’t figure it out until my job had moved me out to Northern California, just outside of San Francisco, and until I had met my best friend. H is a beautiful straight blonde woman and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t totally have a crush on her. But life isn’t like some of the movies out there and as much as I’d wish she was secretly in the closet and would one day fall in love with me, I know it won’t happen. Oh well, I’m over it. Mostly. Anyway, what I love most about this woman is her confidence to be her authentic self. She doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks about her and does whatever she wants simply because it makes her happy. My mind was blown. Who actually lives life like that!? I certainly didn’t.
Eventually, after months of internal debates with myself, I decided to take a page out of her book. I was going to do something because I wanted to do it and I didn’t care about what anyone thought about it. I cut off my long brown hair. I went from having hair halfway down my back to using a buzzer. It was fucking liberating! It took a few haircuts to get the style that I wanted but once I did, damn I looked good. A few months later I went through my entire closet and donated all of my dresses, feminine shirts, and shoes. I started shopping almost exclusively in the men’s clothing department and even bought a custom tailored 3 piece suit. I went from a shy tomboy to a semi-confident soft-butch woman. I was starting to feel a little bit better about myself, but I still wasn’t quite there yet.
Shortly after my extreme makeover, something weird started to happen to me. I was getting misgendered. A lot. But something even weirder caught my attention. I didn’t mind getting misgendered and I never corrected anyone who referred to me with male pronouns. What the hell did this mean now!? I had just gotten comfortable with my sexuality and now I was questioning my gender identity. Was I ever going to find a label that I actually fit into? I felt full of questions again.
I wish I could say that I’ve figured it out, but I haven’t yet. Do I think I’m trans? No, probably not. Am I non-binary? Maybe? Androgynous? Possibly. Am I just a soft-butch lesbian woman who doesn’t give a fuck about labels and loves women? Could be. Will I ever figure it out, who knows? What I do know at this point in my life is that I don’t really care. I don’t care what gender people think I am. I don’t care if the woman who I will eventually fall in love with has a sexual past with partners of different genders. I don’t care what people think because I finally, FINALLY feel some sense of peace within myself. I don’t have all the answers and I don’t think I ever will, but I’m finally living my truth. I don’t hide who I am anymore and I do the things that make me happy. Some days I can’t believe that I spent 24 years of my life living in shame and other days I’m so happy that I’ve spent the last year of my life embracing myself. I know my journey isn’t complete and I know I have more things to discover about myself and my goodness, I can’t wait to see how this goes.
If this ever gets published, and it’s okay if it doesn’t because quite frankly this was cathartic for me to write, but if it does, I hope someone can identify with my story. I hope this helps someone else realize that we are all on our own journeys and there is not one specific timeline you have to follow. It took me 24 years to live my truth. It took my brother 17. It may take someone 5 years or another person 75 years. All that matters is that you are true to yourself. If labels make you happy, use them. If you don’t care for them, that’s okay too! There is no right or wrong way to be yourself so just do it. You’ll be amazed at just how brightly you can shine.