Community Rainbow Waves

It’s all about Genders and Boundaries: When all I feel is Love.

When I was little, my mom always put me in a variety of dresses, which, let’s face it, was never practical for the sporty girl I was.
I was about 10 years old when I ran down the hallway and jumped in my Stepmom’s arms at the end of The TIME OF MY LIFE (Dirty Dancing). And, because I trusted her with all my heart, because I think she picked me blushing when Jennifer Grey would appear on the screen,
The next day, she casually came out as bisexual as if she had just announced the weather. I blushed, chocked on my dinner and avoided my family’s eye contact.
I felt shame. I felt ashamed of the spectrum she had put words upon in such an easy way in front of my wide (queer) eyes open. Because it is what we are taught to avoid: Looking at it in the bright light.
But soon, I felt love. When she taught us about this intimate journey, smoothing the path under my footsteps as if in a look, she knew, that I just started my wild ride towards my inner self.
As I grew up, I started putting on loose clothing, for the easy purpose of being comfortable until it wasn’t a choice anymore. Due to back issues, I wore a corset, 24/7 for 5 years, the exact time of my puberty. I had to shop exclusively in the man section which means, I quickly met judgment, hate and violence from my said friends.
But I had this beautiful light of strength still burning somewhere in me. So, because I had no control over my body or the pain, I decided to cut my hair. I took control and I looked at society, with no woman form, short hair, and surely no confidence and what you can imagine happened. I became a little boy to the eyes of the world. And for a second, it felt simple, I was finally allowed to be attracted to girls too.
Quickly, it felt wrong, I was proud to be a Woman. I wanted everyone to see me as one. I hated that to be myself, I had to be seen as “different”. Still, I was week, young ad broken. So, I grew my hair back an in a way, I gave up. I ran away from every crowd, I feared people noticing me.
Until someone made me realized that I would never shine brighter to MYSELF, being THEIR idea of a woman, if I just disappeared.
She was the first girl of my age with short hair. Unless, she wasn’t staring at the crowd, frightened to be seen differently. So, I asked her, an easy question: “How did you do it?”
And she answered: “Well, I loved it. And if it’s what you love. If you feel yourself when doing it, then screw everybody’s opinion, you’re the one who can write your story.”
The wild journey towards happiness began at this point. Of course, I did cut my hair. And eventually, discovered the power of dressing as you want. Far away from anyone’s expectations, full of colours and patterns, I became the gendered fashion’s tightrope walker. One step in every section, a style in all.
I came out to my family, who were obviously expecting it (especially my stepmom and slowly the rest of them).
I managed to seduce for the past two years, a wonderful, brave and smart woman to stand by my side.
And, Yes,
It is still incredibly frightening, and hard, every day, not to be able to put myself out in the world, without earrings and be misgendered.
But I’m kind to myself. I think I’m pretty great and really, I’m only 18. My whole life is ahead of me, and I don’t know more than 1 per cent of my future self.
What I know is,
I’ll make sure that this 1 big per cent is kind and loving and brings light to other people’s eyes and hearts.
So that one day, I get to sit down at a dinner table and open a new colourful and safe world to a dreamy, blushing, beautiful human being.

I’m a bleeding heart snowflake, a sinning homosexual, and beautifully in love with another woman.

I don’t think there was ever a specific moment that made me realize I was gay. I’ve always known, whether it came to my childhood crush on Mulan, my adolescent obsession with Kristen Stewart, or my teenage love for my best friend. I came out to my friends my freshman year of high school, my mother about one year later, and am yet to come out to my father several more years later. He’s in his mid sixties and dead set in his ways, though I suspect he knows. Being gay is something that hides in the shadows if it isn’t directly addressed when you’re growing up. You can have your parents never speak out against the LGBT+ community, and still feel as if you’re living a lie. I’ve been called snowflake, baby, sweetheart, sinner, and many more by people who know no more about me other than the way I held the hand of the girl I loved. The world is changing, and we can hope it changes for the better, but hope means nothing without action. I live my life fighting in public for the rights of people like me, marching the streets, signing petitions, and I in fear at family dinners, too scared to introduce my own father into the world I’m a part of. The world is changing, and we’d better hope that we can keep up with it.

Lola

Hey, I’m a 14 year old girl and to start off let’s just say I’m very confused, I’m trying to figure out what I am and who I like but its difficult at my age especially when no one likes you back. When I was younger I remember never having crushes on female celebrity’s but I wanted to be them, one of my first crushes was harry styles and still is, and as for girls it was never celebs I was interested in, but my friends. I never knew whether I liked them, wanted to be best friends with them, or wanted to be them, since I had never felt that way to a girl before. Was I that one not normal kid who watched the girl in kissing scenes? made my barbie dolls wife and wife? And took quizzes to see if I was gay? (Which I still do to this day)

My first big real girl crush was someone in my year, and at the time it was almost a trend to be bisexual so most people said they were, apart from me, a part of me thinks that was because I knew deep down I was different and maybe bi and internalised homophobia wouldnt let me admit that, and still wont now, which is why I am so confused, but this girl, I was attracted to her personality more than anything, but it felt different to liking a boy, she was easy to talk to, I didnt have to act cool, so I thought “maybe I just wanna be friends with her it doesnt mean I like her right?” But this crush continued on and off to where I am now. Which is that I dont think I like anyone at the moment apart from the obvious celebs I adore of course.

It’s difficult to explain how I feel as I couldn’t imagine myself marrying a woman but is that just what society has drilled into my head? Is it internalised homophobia? I dont know. And I might not for a couple of years, and as frustrating as that is, it’s ok. I dont have to label myself right now, harry styles doesnt, hes confident right? Maybe I will never label myself and that’s still ok.

Kier – dreaming Big in Big Sky Country

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ABUSE.

I was raised in a very strict, fundamentalist “Christian” cult, so many of my liberal values were viewed as wrong and shameful. My father was bisexual, but he was also very abusive to my mother and I. So my association with any kind of sexual ‘other’ was tied to difficult emotions. I was sexually abused by my father when I was of a tender age and again by a cousin when I was 14, so coming into womanhood and sexual awareness was met by fear and instant repression. I simply shut myself off to the whole experience.
Now, at the ripe old age of 29 😉 I have left the cult, separated myself from abusive family members, and am discovering who I am. It feels so good!
Just since turning 29 in April I have come out as gender queer and am flying the asexual flag (though I may truly be more demisexual). I have never felt so free or so confident.
It has always been easy for me to love others, but I find it’s even easier as I learn to also love myself!
I am inexpressibly thankful for Dominique Provost-Chalkley for her bravery and her representation. Positive representation really does change lives, and sometimes it even saves lives!

I am Chelsey. I am a girl, a lover, a fighter, a wife and I am bisexual!

My story starts when I was young, about the age of 10, though I did not realize until more recently, and I am approaching my 26th birthday. When I was younger I had a bit of a struggle with my gender identity. I was a “tom-boy” and between the ages of eight to thirteen, I refused to wear clothes from the girls section, in favor of baggy “boy” clothing, and wearing short hair. I just felt more comfortable that way, but if anyone mistook me for actually being a boy, I got angry, and couldn’t understand why it was so hard for people to get that girls can like boy things too! To be fair, I did look like a boy so I didn’t have much of a right to be upset, and now I look back on those years and laugh a little. It was also around this time that I found myself becoming more and more infatuated with female icons or characters in movies and T.V. Moulin Rouge was my all time favorite movie at age 12, but instead of being obsessed with Ewan McGregor, I was in love with Nicole Kidman. I thought nothing of it besides admiring a great artist, who just so happens to be gorgeous, I didn’t think anything of this behavior, but my uncle, who lived with my mom and I at this time, and who is gay as well, clocked this behavior and starting making comments about being gay or a lesbian, and poking fun at me about it. This of course made me furious because, for one, his words rang true to me, but I am suborn and would not stand for someone else telling me what I was, or who I liked. And two, because I would get flustered and confused and thought that there was no way he could be right about me. That wasn’t what society said was right, and surely a whole group of people would be right and he, as one man alone, must be wrong. So I did what many many people do, about all conflicting and scary feelings, and I buried them away, deep down so that I wouldn’t have to confront them myself, or give anyone else to opportunity to tell me what my sexuality was again. Besides, my family already had a gay member, there couldn’t be more than one to a family, right? Isn’t that how it works??

When I reached puberty, I started to feel much more comfortable wearing more feminine clothing and became a lot more comfortable in my own skin, which as I’m writing this, I realize that is a little ironic because puberty is when most people feel the exact opposite… non-the-less, I was feeling more like “myself” despite having an occasional moment or feeling of attraction to my friends, the female friends. I told myself that those feelings were just there because we were so close and such good friends, and like in all relationships, it was normal to feel a little jealous when you had to start sharing your time among other friends or an occasional boyfriend. Except, I wasn’t feeling jealous of their time being spent with others, I was jealous of the boy holding my best friends hand, or talking all night with her on the phone, and getting to hear her profess her love for him. And when they would inevitably break up, I would feel a little bit relieved, and all too happy to through my arms around her in support and wipe her tears. But again, for years, I would lie to myself by saying that I was acting as any friend would, and that there was nothing more to it because there couldn’t be.

So, I fell in love with men out in public, and women in my mind. And for many years, I was content with this being my reality. I met an incredible man to whom I am now married and it has been with him and the security of our relationship, that I was finally able to start letting my feelings and attractions to women come to the surface to explore. There is a small part of me that wishes I had come to that point much sooner, and before we were married, especially given that I was quite young when we did so, and at twenty-two years old, there is so much life left to live and years to spend figuring out things like sexuality and love and attraction. But we were firm in our decision to marry and it was the best decision I’ve made.

I am not a particularly spiritual person, but I have truly been blessed with finding my husband who loves me for exactly who I am, and for being there to listen to my ramblings and vocal realizations about being bisexual. He created a safe place for me to talk about my feelings, when I had not created one for myself, and for that I am very thankful. Eventually I felt more comfortable talking to friends about my realization, and my sisters who are nothing but amazing and supportive, and honestly didn’t have much of a reaction to my confession, besides making it seem like there was absolutely nothing different about me to them. And I mean that in the very best way. I was still the same “Chelsey” that they grew up with, I was still me, only with a very big realization, which to be honest, some of them knew before I did. I became more and more comfortable with this as my new truth over the last four years that this discovery process lasted, but through all of it I was certain that I would never be comfortable telling my mother. I didn’t think that she would be angry or upset about it, I just didn’t want her to make some kind of snarky comment or mention the fact that I’m married to a man and the obvious complexities of sexuality and marriage. These were issues I had been navigating, quite gracefully with my husband for years and I wasn’t yet ready for her input.

Now I find myself in a strange position, along with the rest of the world, where I have not left my house for anything other than walking the dog and taking out the trash for twenty-one days. During my time of self-quarantine, I have been finding ways to stay creative. I am a writer and a photographer, which are mediums I have used quite frequently to express myself and other issues dear to my heart, but the topics of sexuality, lgbtq, gender norms and freedom have been taking up more space than anything else in my mind. I have written poetry and done a couple photo shoots with myself eluding to my sexuality, to use as my own full coming out to my mother. I don’t exactly know what shifted in my mind or in my heart about it, but I have come to a place where I would just so much rather be completely out and free to express and talk about who I am with everyone in my life. So when my mother asked to read my poem, as she is my biggest fan and I love her dearly for that, I sent it to her happily and without reservation or fear. It is as follows:

In all the land of milk and honey,
when all the land was warm and sunny
there stood a girl, and in her eye
she saw the long day pass her by.
She stood and stared, then sat to cry
for there was none to hold her high.

She had in mind the arms that would,
forbidden as they were.
For in those arms her heart did lie
though there was one thing more.
Their lives had parted long before,
still, longing filled her soul,
to hold the one for whom she’d die,
great love must come with a tole.

Devoted she was to someone new,
though torn, her mind had split in two.
With one for him and one for her,
but in the end with what to do,
she knew not who to choose.
For if she did, the choice she’d make,
well surely two would stand to loose.

But in the night, her dreams held true,
the love it was her heart went to.
Though with the dawn her sadness grew,
the warmth she felt was gone, she knew.

And though she woke, she could not rise.
Her mind was lost beneath her eyes,
instead it soared beyond the seas,
and weaved around among the trees.
It fluttered to the place she knew,
this place it was where her heart grew.

It found it’s way and hoped to stay
into the arms where lovers play.
And in those arms she loved so dear
her eyes began to shed a tear.
She wasn’t sad, or mad, but glad,
for it was her she’d wanted so bad.
And as it was her that her heart had belonged
she knew from the start that it had all along.

So I sent the poem off to my mom, and awaited the questions I knew that she would have for me. And she did have questions, and I answered them by explaining my journey to figure out who I am and who I want to be, and how I want to be seen and fit into the world. I explained that I have come to realize that I am bisexual and I am married to a man, and I would not change one second of this life I have been given to figure out. Her response was very simple, and to the point, and not what I had expected. She said “I thought so.” and added the “thinking man” emoji to her text. I am thankful to say that her response made me feel so relieved, and seen, and loved, and I will never take that for granted because I know that there are many other people out there with stories similar to mine, who do not get the same warm feelings in response to their coming out. I love my mother to pieces, and everyone who has been there to support me in everything I do in this life. I will take none of them for grated, and I will be living my life, doing the best to spread love, understanding and light to those dark sides of society as I go.

Thank you so dearly, from the very bottom of my heart, and from the depths of my being where I had been hiding away my true self for so many years. Everyone living an out and open life, and everyone who is trying to get there right now, you are all my heroes, and you are not alone in this crazy world!

All my love to you,

Chels

Proud Lesbian

I came out when I was 16. I was so afraid to tell my mom who are born in the 1940’s but she took it really well and said as long as I’m happy and loved that’s all that matters.

My brother took it good as well and said all he wants for me is a girl that loves me the same way I love her.

My friends at the time is a whole other story. They rejected me started to bully me and hang me out for the whole school. Waited for me after school ended just to beat me down.

It took me a lot of years to finally find some good friends that supported me for who I am. And when you find them don’t let them go. They mean everything for me and we’ve been friends now for over 20 years.

Lesbian

Ive know I was apart of the LGBTQIA community from a very young age. Its been interesting trying to figure out who I am as a individual and how I identify. Growing up as a twin, had its own impacts which affected how I see myself in ways some people don’t understand. While coming to the realization that I was attracted to women, allowed me to have my own voice separate from my twin which was definitely something different. We were seen as one, like most twins are especially if they’re the same sex. But coming to the realization and coming out are two different situations. As well as realizing it and accept it. It was a struggle for me at first to accept it because no one asks to be “different” especially when people are hated for it in some places. My home situation was the best anyone could ask for but the people i grew up around weren’t the most open minded. In my case, I was petrified of what others would think rather than my family because I knew regardless my family would love me but would i still be the same person to the people who were my friends. The beliefs I had made me suppress the feelings for a while but then high school started. My high school experience gave me much anxiety during the first year because I had accepted it by then but i didn’t know if i was ready to be out. The first year of school forced me to be the best “straight” me, so i could connect with others, but not fully show the real me. At this time I was still suppressing a party of me regardless of what anyone said. Id get asked often if i was gay because i’m not the most feminine girl but i refused because the concept of talking about it was never there. My best friend at the time didnt even know and she would often try to get me to tell and it just didnt happen. I was genuinely terrified. Freshman year had just ended and I had been watching a lot of youtube videos on coming outs for inspiration. It had become so physically and mentally exhausting to be in the situation where i’m not being the full me, it felt like I was holding my breath most of the time. i wanted to be me but i couldn’t bring myself to do it so I told myself if my mom asked if i was gay i would just say yes and that would be that, but its not always so easy. My mom had asked multiple times between me maki the decision and me coming out because after a point it became obvious the I wanted to say something but nothing was coming out. Then fathers day came, we went to swim and I was sitting next to my mom in the pool just talking and then question came up. She asked me and I froze. I started to cry and shake my head. She was shocked that I had said yes after denying for so long but she was proud. She was the first person I had come out to, not even my twin sister. A couple minutes later I came out to my sister, then later that night my dad which was harder than I thought it was going to be. I had felt so much relief like a rock had been taken off my chest and it was the best thing i could ask for. They love and support me regardless and thats all I needed. In the next coming weeks I came out to my friends one by one. The deeper the relationship established I did it public while the once that were less intimate I did over text. Although I am out now, i still find it hard occasionally to come out to new people in my life. I don’t think it’ll completely go away but as of right now i’m comfortable with who i am enough to not let others make me feel invalided for who I love. In the fall, i’m starting college in tennessee on a full ride scholarship, and its going to be a ride coming out to my teammates and the other people I meet, but i’m ready for it. Essentially you’re coming out everyday to someone new and its just apart of being who I am and i fully accept that because Im proud of who I am and absolutely nothing will change that.

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

A butterfly who loves flowers

When I was 5 yrs old I had a huge crush on my female teacher. I knew it was different because I felt butterflies in my stomach. It was way different from my admiration to boys. After that I had another crush on a 6th grader when I was in my 3rd grade. She didn’t like the attention and the fact that I had a deep admiration to her so she ended our friendship. I was so heartbroken and confused. What did I do wrong? Why can’t I just like her? Then on my 5th grade I had a 6th grader gf whom I invited to go to my house. My mom was open about it and made a joke of how weird and abnormal I am. I think my family knew I am into girls since I am more boyish than girlish. I love playing ball games, wearing shorts and big shirts. They even call me “Cathy Boy” for standing up to boys (who bullied me and some girls) and for just being me. I haven’t had any struggle coming out with my family probably because I have a colorful family (gay aunt, sister, and cousins).

Though I am fortunate of having a family like them, I had difficulty coming out to the entire world. Coming from a Catholic and patriarcal country like the Philippines, it is still a big deal if you’re part of LGBTQIA++ community. I could remember back in my college days that some of my friends lectured me from acting on being gay. They told me that it is a sin to engage into sexual lesbian acts but being one is not. Some told me it is just a phase in my life. So back then I had few experiments. I tried dating and kissing men for a week or two but it didn’t work out. I knew there was something wrong. Something lacking. SPARK! It is different when I kiss a woman. There is magic. There are butterflies in my stomach. There is fire. There is passion. There is care. There is love. There is happiness.

It’s been more than a decade since I decided to just be me regardless of what people say. All I know now is that I am proud of being me and for being in the LGBTQIA++ COMMUNITY.

A lesbian who loves to hear peoples’ life stories. content warning – this coming out story contains discussion and/or mention of self-harming behaviour and suicide

Howdy! My name is Megan. My first “not straight” feelings were around age 9. I didn’t know what I was, all I knew was that I held my female best friend’s hand, and my stomach did somersaults. At age 10, I started going to a conservative baptist church, and over the next 14 years, I would battle with homophobia to the point of almost ending my life. My best friend, we’ll call her T, began to treat me as her significant other. We’d cuddle and kiss and hold hands, but it was just practicing for our future husbands (fun fact, I wasn’t practicing). T would kiss me, then ghost me for a bit and tell me what we did was wrong and against God. This happened for about 6 years, and then she started dating my brother (my brother did not know what was going on). As soon as they started dating, I lost myself. I became angry at everything and everyone. At this point, I was on my 3rd round of biblical counseling; I was being told I wasn’t thankful for my role as a woman, I was giving in to a life consuming sin, and that if I just prayed hard enough, that I would find a husband and these feelings would go away. I tortured myself to try to fit the mold I thought I needed to… In June of 2018, I was in Florida with my family. In key west, there was a pride parade, but I didn’t ask to go as to not make my family uncomfortable. We ended up accidentally running into the parade. I got off of my motorcycle and stood in the crowd, and they began throwing beads in my direction, but a big familiar hand caught them, and I looked to find my father standing next to me. Over the next few months, I began a journey of feeing comfortable enough to come out to my family, and then the world. I lost people in my life, and my family made sacrifices as well to support me. My brother and I left the church, and my parents were kicked out because they weren’t willing to disown me. I live now as a happy lesbian in eastern Washington State, and I wouldn’t change anything. My experiences made me a far more compassionate person, and I treasure that more than I know.