Community Rainbow Waves

Lesbian

I first knew I was a lesbian when I was in high school. I was in love with my best friend who was a straight woman. I didn’t know how to tell her. I thought maybe she would look at me and our friendship differently. I thought maybe she would start acting different around me. So, summer before senior year of high school, I started a big fight that ended our friendship. I did that because I was too damn scared to talk to her. We reconnected a couple years ago so I told her this. She looked me and said “you could’ve talked to me. We would’ve been able to figure this out together. I’m sorry you felt this way and I’m sorry you went through this alone.” I wasn’t expecting that response at all. I’m glad we talked about it because it helped me even years later. I officially came out when I was 20. Same sex marriage become legal in Pennsylvania (born and raised in Pittsburgh) so I took to Facebook to come out. I said, “Way to go Pennsylvania! Now, I can legally marry the person that I love someday.” My friends and family accepted me. They support me. I’m extremely grateful and blessed that they do. Now, I’m 27 and couldn’t be more proud of who I am! Out and proud as my friends say! Last thing I’ll say, it’ll get better. If anyone needs to hear that, it. gets. better. I promise you!

One should be free to live as they’re able, and not according to another one’s label – content warning: this coming out story contains self-harming behaviour

I always knew there was something different about me. I didn’t know what it meant, didn’t know what it was called, and certainly didn’t know the emotional battles I would have with myself as I was growing up.

Coming from a relatively small country town was even more confusing for me.

What is wrong with me?
Is there something wrong with me?
Why do I feel like this?
Are there other girls like me? Where are they?
How will I know?
What will people think?
What will my family think?
Will my friends hate me?

The questions just kept coming, but I didn’t have any answers. Each and every day I was struggling with my inner demons.

I remember my first real girl crush like it was yesterday. There was a girl in my class at primary school that just got me. I know she is still out there, and I know she is out. One day our paths may cross again.

I moved away from my home town when I was 19 and headed for the big smoke. By this time I was in so much emotional pain. I developed a very close relationship with alcohol, but the pain didn’t go away. It was always there the next day.

I became close to one of my friend’s mum. I could talk to her about anything. She obviously saw something in me that I didn’t know was ‘visible’.

When she asked if I wanted to go out one night with her and some friends, of course I said yes. What she didn’t tell me was that it was a women’s only club. When we walked in, although petrified, I finally felt like I was not alone. The place was packed, so I definitely wasn’t alone . Finally, I could start being me, whatever that meant.

I guess this was the first time I came out, and I didn’t have to say a word. And I guess that’s when her and her partner came out to me.

When it came time to start coming out to family and friends, I was shit scared, and rightly so. I was cast out, given death glares, humiliated, bullied, publicly shamed, and the list goes on.

I was made to feel disgusted that I was a human being.

Even though I was living the party life, I was now very much alone. Let’s be honest, I was trying to fill a void.

At my lowest point, I just wanted to die.

Slowly, I started to meet people who just saw me, without judgement. I was finally starting to realise that life could be beautiful.

Times were changing.

Or was it just me seeing things more clearly?

Things were very different back in the 90’s.

Along came the internet, mobile phones, and a multitude of Social Media platforms.

May the support, awareness and love continue to grow for the LGBTQ+ community.

My name is Nerea. I’m a non binary/genderqueer and I like girls.

When I was only eight I realized that I liked girls, I didn’t understand the world like I do now and I didn’t know homophobia in it self. So I told my friends when I was something like 9. At the young age of eleven I decided to tell my mother of what I forced myself to be bisexuality, thinking that if she did not accept my homosexuality she wouldn’t be so mad. I am extremely lucky to be in a very understanding and open minded family. My mom said she was very proud of me to have the courage to speak my truth and to know who I was and accept it at only 11. At about twelve a girl in my class literally screamed that I was gay. I thought I was ready and whenever I would come out to one of my friends, it would this time be as lesbian. For two years I was bullied. I started having panic attacks everyday and I didn’t want to go to school anymore. When it became to overwhelming I thought about hurting myself (and I sometimes still do)… I did once or twice but nothing”extra”. At that point my dad knew I was gay and he helped like my sister who is, herself, an asexual biromantic. I had my friends and family to relate on and went to see a therapist. I’m now better and help a lot of my queer friends come out and know that it ok to be who we are and that we shouldn’t be ashamed. For a while I thought I was genderfluid and soon I realized that I felt like using they/them pronouns all the time. It felt right. Although it wasn’t easy understanding the gender confusion I was going threw, people were there and they had my back. I felt safe. I now use the term non binary/genderqueer and the pronouns they/them & she/her. All of that said I am only going to turn 15 in a few months and I still have a lot to learn and emotions to go threw. I am extremely lucky to be surrounded by open minded people. I know some don’t have that particular luxury. And I want to do everything in power to help them.

I hope my story will make a difference somehow. Love and know that you are not alone.

Nerea.

A 30-something year old whose journey took her from bisexual to lesbian to queer to not needing a label at all.

This story starts from the very beginning, so prepare yourself for a roller coaster.

Growing Up

Growing up as an only child, I was pretty dependent on my friends to get me through the day. If there was ever a rift in my group, it left me with a horrible feeling inside, as if I could show up the next day and be shunned from our usual bench at lunch. (My fear of abandonment is still real today, but in grade school, you were a loser if you didn’t bring the type of Lunchables that people wanted to trade you for or share with you. Social suicide at such a tender age. Kids are cruel.) So to keep my “social status”, I practically begged my parents to get me the lunches that the cool 10-year-olds ate, with fruit-by-the-foot and Mondo. After surviving the playground, my afternoons consisted of playing sports. Once I could start trying out for the teams in 5th grade, that’s all I wanted to do. I’d save the candies from my Lunchables and bring them to practice to share…with the popular (attractive – because society shamefully says that attractive=popular) girls. I’d pay attention whether they took the chocolate or the candy, which flavor Warhead was their favorite, etc. all in an attempt to talk to them as much as I could. Back then, I saw this as me just wanting them to like me because they were popular and everyone wanted to hang out with them. I knew nothing at this point other than I got severely jealous of their close friends, boyfriends, etc. Again, an awful feeling. It wasn’t until I got to high school that I started to put the pieces together.

High School

In high school, I continued to devote most of my time to schoolwork and basketball, and my teammates were again my best friends – one of them becoming my first girlfriend my sophomore year. Trust me, the irony is not beyond me. This relationship was my first real relationship, so many “firsts” came along with it: first physical/emotional/sexual experiences with a girl, first love, first breakup-and-makeup, first long-term relationship. We were together for roughly 4 ½ years, on and off, and it was such a whirlwind of a relationship. I was 15 years old, completely immersed, everything heightened and everything intense. The feelings, the arguments, the learning, the growing. It truly was a relationship fueled by the unknown mixed with teenage angst, which needless to say caused tension between me and my family because we were both “in the closet” at the time and I couldn’t tell them all the things I was going through. We went through several breaks and rekindlings, that when we approached the end of the relationship within the first maybe 1 ½ years of college, it grew to be unhealthy for the both of us. This is not to say that the good times we had weren’t really good, because they were, but all-in-all, I had outgrown it and was turning into someone I wasn’t quite fond of.

College

I met my second girlfriend in my second year of college, during my “divorce” period with my first girlfriend. I call this a “divorce” because I feel like it took a few months to “finalize” the breakup and detach myself completely. This proved more difficult than I anticipated because potential-Girlfriend-#2 was a roommate of one of Girlfriend #1’s friends, so we were still running in the same circles. Once I was officially out of relationship #1 and in relationship #2, we moved in together and this took my experiences to a whole new level – cohabitation can either make you or break you and it definitely made us. We didn’t have too many hiccups, until I hit a huge speedbump: my dad confronted me about my sexuality. I was 19 years old. Again, we were both still “in the closet” and it was terrifying.

Coming Out – Part 1

My dad asked me to go to the grocery store with him one Saturday afternoon. This would have been a normal occurrence IF 1) he didn’t tell me to get in the car the moment my mom started running her shower, AND 2) if he didn’t take the absolute longest, roundabout way to get to the grocery store. Once he parked the car, he jumped right into it. He asked who insert screenname here was (he already knew), how long we’ve been together, and if my mom knew. His spitfire questions got my spitfire answers: “Girlfriend #2”, 1 ½ years at this point, no she doesn’t know.” My face never seemed to get the memo from my brain to remain calm, so my panic shined right through. My dad’s response: he immediately put his hand on my knee, told me to look at him, and said “Hey, it’s okay. There’s no need to panic. I just suggest you don’t tell your mom yet because we both know that she won’t be as cool about this as I am. Now let’s get some shopping done.”

With my hands still shaking, we went into the store and went on business as usual. My dad, being the extremely blunt unfiltered person he is, proceeded to randomly ask me inappropriate questions about my relationship, drill in the point of me needing to delete my profile from the home computer so all evidence was gone, and said that if I didn’t do it the moment we got home, he would ask me more inappropriate questions and force me to answer them. “Blackmailed” by my own father.

I didn’t think it would ever go this way. I didn’t have a plan, I hadn’t thought about coming out yet, I was just being the kid-away-at-college and figuring things out as they came along. I mean, to me, this relationship with Girlfriend #2 was kind of still “new” compared to my first relationship. I have to admit though, even without having a formal sit-down with him, a coming out announcement, or anything out of my own choice really, the weight that lifted off my chest was so much greater than I anticipated it to ever be. I finally had a parent I didn’t feel I had to hide all my gritty life details from.

“Adulthood”

Girlfriend #2 and I moved back to our respective homes after being away at college, and things started going awry less than a year later. No longer being able to rely on “cohabitation making us”, we started growing apart. The want to visit each other, Skype, and even text throughout the day like we used to dwindled. We were together for roughly 4 ½ years (similar to my first relationship), but the relationship was becoming one-sided and it wasn’t fair anymore. I hate to say that fighting for it wasn’t worth it anymore, but it’s the truth. We were at different points in our lives, wanting different things for our future, but although I won’t go into the details (because that’s not the point here), all-in-all, it ended amicably.

I took a break from all the seriousness for a few months, focused on my hometown friendships, went on a few (failed) dates, but really just honed in on regaining my individuality. I was 24 years old, juggling my first job as an undergraduate and being a new furmom. Things were really coming back together, in their devil-may-care fashion, and I managed.

And then there was Shedonism – Las Vegas Pride, where I first met Girlfriend #3, my current and god willing my last. Long story kind-of-short, we met through mutual friends from LA and Sacramento, we said maybe a handful of words to each other in Vegas, went home after the event, I texted her 2 weeks later on her birthday, and it was all downhill from there. We talked daily at all hours, officially got together 6 months later, and have been together ever since. We did the long-distance thing for about 1 ½ years and here we are now, living together in LA with 2 dogs, just 4 months shy of our 5 year anniversary celebration, and I’ve never been happier. I could gush about this girl, but I’ll save you guys from that, but I just want to say that it works. It all just works. The present, the future, everything. But no matter how great and grown and comfortable I’ve been in the relationship, I still had a huge chip on my shoulder: I still had to come out to my mom. I am 29 years old, and disappointing my parents is still (and will always be) such a huge deal. But I did it, and I wasn’t alone, and it changed my life.

Coming Out – Part 2

Friday, October 28, 2016 – The day I took the most nerve-wracking risk of my life (and the longest and most crucial).
So this plan had been brewing for almost a year. I originally wanted to come out to my mom around last New Year’s, but it just wasn’t the right time. I thought so long and hard about the various ways to do it because this was probably the most important thing I was ever going to do. I was finally going to be able to plan for this and do this after so many years. I could tell her in one of our daily phone calls or texts, pony up and tell her in person in a very public place to avoid the meltdown, have my dad tell her since he’s known for 9 years, or write her a letter. I opted for the letter. I felt that if I wrote it all down in a letter, no matter how long it was, it would result in some of the weight lifting off of me AND allow me to lay absolutely everything on the table for my mom to absorb. My dad, naturally, wasn’t a fan of the idea, saying “that’s like breaking up with someone via text. I think you should do it in person,” even though I explained to him that I really didn’t think I had it in me to have an impromptu sit-down. I wrote the letter anyway and left it for her to see the next morning at my grandma’s gravesite (for other personal reasons).
Anyway, I was due to visit my parents, and since they get home around the same time, you can imagine how my plan quickly devolved into not my plan at all.
My mom and I moved about the house, my dad comes in, and says “Mom, sit down, your daughter wants to talk to you.” Cue heart attack. I’ve never glared so hard at someone EVER while I said “No dad, I don’t. I REALLY don’t.” At this point, my mom is now starting to panic. My dad then looks at me, says “You’re going to hate me for this, but…”, turns to my mom and says “Your daughter’s ‘roommate’ dates women, and so does she.” Cue heart attack #2 and blackout. What’s a girl to do now that her plan had been hijacked a day earlier than expected? I held onto my consciousness as best as I could and went to sit opposite my mother. Yikes.

The first words out of her mouth were the most heart-wrenching. A phrase a child never wants to hear out of a parent’s mouth:

“I’m disappointed in you.”

I nodded my head and gave her the floor. The next phrases played like a broken record before I’d even said a word.

“Never in a million years did I think my own daughter was going to tell me this.”

And then the parental denial:

“I prayed every night that this day would never come.”

(I complimented her motherly instinct in the letter – I knew she had it in her.)

By this time, my dad is unexpectedly sitting next to me, and as much as I hated him for blowing up my plan, I am so grateful for him right now. I began by telling my mom “I’d been in 3 long-term relationships in the last 14 years, my current relationship consisting of the last 4 ½ years (funny how this number keeps coming up). I’m so tired of hiding myself and my relationships from you and this family. I’m exhausted. My dreams for my future haven’t changed: I still want that house with a white picket fence, be pregnant, have kids, and get married, which now I can, it just won’t be to a man. I’m so happy with how my life turned out, and I’m so lucky because I’ve never been bullied or put down and my friendships are so much stronger now. I’m one of the lucky ones! But it sucked having to go through every relationship and breakup I’ve had and been too scared to tell my own mother about them so that she could help me through everything.”

“The future I wanted for you was for you to find a man who would treat you as the great girl you are, get married, and have a family together. That’s what a family is.”

My dad chimes in immediately, saying “She has found someone who treats her well and makes her happy. I’ve known for several years now, and in the grand scheme of things, this is no big deal. She’s still going to get married and have kids. Your job now as her mother is to love her, not judge her, accept it and move on. She is the same loving daughter you’ve always had. Nothing has changed that.”

Now I’m crying, and I’m not sure if it’s from my mom’s comments or from the shock of witnessing for the first time my dad’s verbal unwavering support. Fast-forward through the next 20 minutes of repeated comments, my mom then has to leave to pick up a family member from work. I turned to my dad after she’s left, and said “Well, I suppose that went as expected…when I get married some time down the road, I’d appreciate it if both of you would walk me down the aisle. I’ll take one, but both would be preferable.” He grabbed my shoulders and looked me dead in the eye, “Look, I’d prefer you to date men, but I know that’s not going to happen. You are the way you are, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy. That’s all there is to it. If your mom is going to be upset at you or your girlfriend or anyone for that matter, that’s her problem. I don’t give a shit about anything else. We’re all just people.”

My hero.

Coming to the end of this story now, my mom and I went through 4 days of radio silence, which equaled an eternity since she has text me or called me several times a day since I went away to college. Per my request, she did still read the letter I wrote for her, and we spoke about it while my dad was out of town. I took this chance to stand my ground more firmly, profess that I’m no longer a child, this is not a phase, and this is truly and fully who I am. It has been 3 weeks since “D-Day” and life is…well life I suppose. I’m still a little freaked out that we might just be on the brink of a mental breakdown, but I will take what I can get, and my mom still loves me and hugs me hello and goodbye whenever I see her.

The relief alone feels like nothing I’ve ever imagined. It could have gone a lot worse, and I’m slightly shocked that I am one of the lucky ones. It breaks my heart that so many people out there will not have their story play out as successfully as I did. No matter how old you are, no matter what path of life you are on, the most important things I can say to you are: Trust those close to your heart and embrace them and thank them always for being there for you. Trust yourself especially, because that is who you will always have. Be so unapologetically yourself, and demand respect in the purest way you know how. Please please please stay safe, stay mindful, and only do things you are comfortable doing. You know YOU best, so you’ll know when the time is right.

This is my story, and now I can honestly say it gets better.

Fast-forward 4 years: I am 33 years old, living in Sacramento with 2 furkids, and Girlfriend #3 became my fiancé! Even though we are in the middle of a godforsaken pandemic, I have to say my home life is pretty great and it still gets better and better.

35yo, gay and still on the journey

I live in Poland – country where we have „LGBT free zones” in over 100 regions/cities/counties (almost 60 of them enacted „resolutions against LGBT ideology”), where president said „LGBT are not people, it is an ideolgy”, where important people from catholic church said (after Pride Parade) that people have to clean up the streets after rainbow plague, where some politician said that LGBT are not like normal people, where children’s ombudsman said that sex educators give children at schools “gender-changing” pills.
So it is not verry happy place to live.
If I was a teenager nowadays I would know I’m gay somewhere between 12 and 14. But I was a teenager in late ’90s and I didn’t know that being gay even exists. It was 2009 when I saw gay women on TV (or in the Internet to be specific) for the first time in Grey’s Anatomy. At that time I was 23 and in collage. Shortly after that I found The L Word and was like “oooh, this is a real thing”. I was in a long distance relationship with a man and was going to move with him to the big city. I was dreaming Jenny’s story was mine – I’ll move and I’ll meet a girl of my life. Reality was I moved and didn’t met any girl. I had a hard time accepting my sexuality. I still was in a relationship. I had severe depression. I went through different stages – “I have to stay with this guy because it is not normal to be with a woman”,“I can’t be with him but I will be alone for the rest of my life”, “I don’t want to be with him, but I don’t want to be alone eighter”. And finally my minds reached the point where I was thinking “you can’t be with him because it is unfair to him and to you, I don’t know what is waitng for you around the corner but you will be okay”.
We broke up and I moved back to my hometown.
It was 2012, I was 26 and feeling completely lost in life. I moved back with my family and started a new job.
Same year I came out to my best friend. Or I was forced to come out to her. She had some doubts, she tought she is “not safe” with me and I had to answer like a billion questions. But she came around very quickly. A month later I decided to come out to my other best friend and she was wonderful.
Today I’m 35. Unfortunately I still live with my family. And my family is conservative, catholic, huge supporter of polish government and homophobic. My mother uses the F word referring to gay guys (she doesn’t know any bad words for lesbians).
For years I was school psychologist and now I’m a vice principal in public high school. Our school is great. We have a lot of LGBTQ+ students. There are more and more every year because the word that we have very supportive environment is spreading. We always react if they are bullied (but those situation are very very rare). LGBTQ+ students are safe in our school, they can be out, they can hold hands in the hallways, they can go to the prom with their partners, they are stars in school theater and choir, we had outed gay student as the student body president. Unfortunately all those situations are not very common in polish public education system.
I always wanted to be the kind of teacher I was looking for as a teenager – kind, supportive, not being right all the time, respectful, ready to listen and not judge. For obvious reasons a have a soft spot for LGBTQ+ students. Since I’m not out and can’t lead by example I consider my support for them as my contribution to LGBTQ+ community.
I know I still am on a journey. I’m out to my little world but I’m not ready to come out to the big world out there. I don’t think I would ever be. I’m afraid of losing my job (because of the system not the people in my workplace) and roof over my head.
I don’t get support from my family but I’m lucky because there are some amazing people around me. They are my chosen family. I feel safe around them and celebrated by them and they love me. The real me. And I love them back 🙂

P.S. Dear beautiful people please remember if your family doesn’t choose to support you, you can choose your own family.
P.S.2 I was writing my rainbow wave for a few days now reading it over and over again. It is the first time I’ve seen how far I got and honestly I feel weirdly hopeful (it is not the feeling that I’m used to).

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

I was a bird that can’t fly. Then sudden I met “love”. She gave me wings to fly high but yet scares me.

When I found love. I didnt say anything, I’m just action speak louder than words. I think everyone, no, not everyone notice what makes me happy. But I am glad i found love and Im lil bit scared because not everyone knows or accepted my imperfection. And that’s for being a Bi. So I am not totally out because I’m scared.

Loving all humans

I come from an very conservative military family so when I found out in middle school that I liked boys and girls equally I felt like my whole world was collapsing. I couldn’t talk to My family or seek their advice about this feelings and I didn’t have that many real friends so I started to feel like I didn’t know who I was. For years I put on a mask and only showed people what I wanted them to see. In 2018 my whole word changed. At the age of 22 I meet this girl what am so lucky to call my girlfriend. But that wasn’t easy. I finally told my family about her and me. They decided to send me a letter that said that they didn’t want to have anything to do with me and I was confused because “ as long as you love boys you are straight and just rebelling and trying to hurt us”.

I didn’t talk to them for 1 1/2 year. Now they say that they don’t respect it but have accepted.

My girlfriend and this community makes me strong and wanting to walk to the end of the world with my head held high and with a heart full of love and color.

Becoming the man I am, the man I want to be. And reclaiming the things I had resented over the years.

Growing up I was one of the boys, gender didn’t matter. Playing outside, drawing with chalk on sidewalks, riding around in our little toy go carts and just generally being happy, back then no one cared about labels, boy or girl.
We cared about our friends and loved them no matter what.
Starting school was different, suddenly I was pushed into the role of the gender I was assigned at birth, made to wear pink clothes, not getting the car or dragon bag I wanted, instead it was pink, with cats on it – I don’t have anything against cats, or the color Pink in fact – but back then, it was the worst thing that could happen to me, being forced into wearing and doing things that were stereotypically feminine, it hurt. It really hurt.
Because I perceived myself completely differently from the people around me. I wasn’t and still am not a girl. I never was.

It took years for me trying to figure out my place in this world, who I was and who I strived to be. When I was twelve I finally was able to get the haircut I always wanted, short hair. And boy did it feel great.
I knew that trans people existed, my mother even was friends with a trans man When I grew up, but I still didn’t realize that people assigned female at birth could transition to male.
I mean how could I have known? The representation lacked and still is lacking, but I will elaborate on what that means to me later.
I only knew about trans women existing so when I finally realized that trans men existed, and I would be able to transition, I jumped with joy.

But then the dread settled in, how would I tell the people around me?
My Mama? My grandparents? My friends?
What if they wouldn’t want me anymore because I am me? Should I live my life unhappy? I also had a bad case of imposter syndrome, constantly questioning myself when I knew I was so sure.
So I took small steps, telling my mother about the possibility that I might not be female, as she perceived. Telling a few friends and so far everyone reacted nicely, no one badmouthed me or told me how wrong I was for finding out who I was.

Still it took me years after that, until March of this year to be exact. To finally be able to voice proudly who I was, that I was David, not the name chosen for me at birth. Finally, telling people to please respect my name and pronouns.

2020 so far has been detrimental for me, being able to start treatment soon (I hope that I can be on HRT before summer 2021, and so far that might be the case), I figured where I want to go in life, and I finally reclaimed things I was grown to resent because of the perception being stereotypically female.
I am able to wear pink again! Wear nail polish or ear rings, which made me so uncomfortable before.
I figured out what I want to do in life, I want to give people like me and the LGBTQ+ community the representation it deserves. If that does not work out, I will go into psychology to help LGBTQ+ youth find themselves. I just desperately want to give the community what they deserve, and what I did not have growing up.

I still have a long journey to go, but I’ve already come this far, I’ve already had so much thrown at me that I am ready to face the world as who I am.

And I hope that i will read this one day, proud of what I’ve achieved, proud of the young man I am now.

I hope this message gives people the strength they need. Love the people around you, no matter who they are or want to be. Spread love.

Stay healthy, Be safe, be proud.

Much love
-David

Minority Trifecta: Mexican American, LGBTQ, and a Woman

I’m in Spanish class for native speakers my sophomore year of high school. I’ve just recently met a new girl, she doesn’t have many friends but every time I look at her I get this sinking feeling in my tummy since the first day she came into class. The universe somehow places us, months later, sitting near each other. We begin to write notes to one another and tell each other our secrets. We start hanging outside of class and even cuddle when in either of our houses. We hold hands occasionally, but only if we’re sitting on the couch and under a blanket. One evening while browsing the TV, South of Nowhere is on The N. We watch it holding our breaths and between each commercial we somehow manage to awkwardly get up. When it’s over my hands start to sweat and when I look over to her, finally, my heart races. She knows and I know now what this all means.
We dated for 6 years, during high school and a year into college. We broke up because of distance and just life teaching us different life lessons – but that was my first love. My awkward first fumbly kiss, I love you, and even first sexual experience was with her, and it was pure.

However, in between all of that, I had to come out to my VERY Mexican, Catholic, and conservative parents – not once, but three times. If you ask any Mexican-American Latinx folk out there they’ll tell you our culture is so intertwined with Catholicism that it becomes our lives. The first time my parents found out, they found a note (the ones we used to pass) from my girlfriend during the summer. That summer they sent me to Texas to be with my aunts. I did not have a cell phone. I did not have access to the internet. I was alone. I contemplated suicide a lot that summer because I finally saw what it would mean if I lived my truth. The second time I came out to them was after my suicide attempt. It was 2 weeks after my 17th birthday and I had enough of hiding who I was, I had enough of the world telling me that I couldn’t be Mexican, a lesbian, and a woman, and that if I was I was going to disappoint the family, the church, and our community. I had enough of lying to my parents. During the treatment process my counselor pulled my parents into a room and he had us have an honest conversation. I told them that I attempted suicide because I knew that I was different and they’d never accept it. My mom knew what that meant and never repeated it again – we didn’t even have closure that session. I completed therapy and completed my in-patient program. I recovered from that incident, but I was completely broken already. Years passed and I finally had the chance to go away for college – to a 4 year Uni in Chicago. By this time I was no longer with my first girlfriend. I joined a diverse sorority and met so many queer women that empowered me. I attended a social-justice driven school and so when I learned so much academically then thanks to “city life” about strength in diversity my perspective changed. I started dating around and I came home less and less every semester. My parents found my Facebook and they realized how I was going out and having fun; they realized we no longer had a deep relationship. They sat me down one Sunday afternoon and asked about me finally. My mom sat me down and asked, “Is there something you want to tell us? What is going on here?” I was filled with animosity and hate toward them, toward my culture, toward my spirituality. I told her all of that. I told her it was because I was gay. That was the third and final time I had to come out to them. They finally got it after that. My mom cried of course, we stopped talking for months, my aunts would call my cell and leave voicemails with gospel readings, my cousins stayed at a distance… etc… It was horrible, lonely, painful – I still have flashbacks of the time I spent not knowing if I had a blood family. I had already found my Gamily (gay family) in the city. I knew who I could go to and feel safe to, and cry to. That’s what became important to me, gamily that could just accept me as me and protect me as me.

I’m 30 years old now. I met my now wife in 2013. We’ve been married since 2016 and have two cats. We still live in the city where we fell in love, Chicago. I am now comfortable in my own beautiful Mexican brown skin. My parents and family don’t fully accept our marriage, but they’re coming around slowly. I am still attending therapy, I am now doing meditation and I’ve opened my mind/body to the healing powers of crystals and other rituals. We work on our spirituality a lot, just not with religion. We advocate constantly for queer Latinx youth that feel lonely and isolated. We are strong queer feminists. We support transgender equality wholeheartedly. We are living the life we wish we had when we were younger.

If you’re Mexican American, or of any Latinx background and you identify as LGBTQ feel free to take this story as the representation you seek/need. I am proof that things get better, always. (Sorry for the Cliche). They get better when you find your gamily. They get better when you begin to live authentically and unapologetically. You’re valid. You’re beautiful. You deserve happiness, too.