Community Rainbow Waves

Missouriraynebowe…I am from Missouri. Raynebowe is a play on words because I was looking for the colorful part of a difficult situation.

My earliest memories of attraction to other females was as early as 3rd grade. I remember this girl, who we shared the same bus ride, the same classroom and our desks were in the same 4 square shape group. She sat diagonal from me. So I could see her from nearly every angle. I remember the teacher standing in the middle of the room, which was directly behind her. I remember trying to pay attention, but getting lost in thought of how her smile and laughter brightened up the room. I remember longing for recess time so we could hang out. We always seemed to be together in everything. Life was so big then. I didn’t know yet, obviously what it meant for me. So I chalked it up to best friends and moved on through life quietly in the shadows of what was societal expectations back then. I was 25 years old when I decided to go to my 1st gay bar. It was out in the sticks, old metal converted barn with a lake, a pool room, dance floor, obviously a bar and bathrooms. It took months for me to actually go in the bar part of the bar. I stayed where the pool tables were and made a friend who worked there and watched from a distance trying to navigate different waters of my life. When I got comfortable, my friend that worked there, took my hand and walked me inside to watch a drag show. WOW was I ever caught up and amazed. I was hooked after that. The lights, the singing, performing. The drag queens were as openly colorful as I felt inside. This week after week helped me come to full terms with my own sexuality. So another friend took me to a small book store downtown, Columbia called The Peace Nook. It was back then a safe haven for anyone who needed to just be. I read books, talked with patrons, the owner. The Peace Nook embraced the power of just being to the very core and to this day, still in the same location, waving it’s rainbow flag and the Peace Nook flag outside of it’s staircase on the street. It still stands for it’s core values. At 30 I met my first serious girlfriend. Fell hopelessly in love. Everything in my world aligned perfectly. But not without some struggles. Then she got sick with cancer 3 years into our relationship. She died in my arms. Needless to say I was broken to the core. I lost myself, traveled the east coast, landed for Florida for 10 years. Made lots of acquaintances. Met someone special that sparked that light that had been dead for so long. We ended up being just good friends, but she helped me bring my colors out again. I have survived cancer that should have killed me, I have had 2 mastectomies, several surgical procedures, through it all…I am better, stronger, more loving, and found my calling. Not only did I go to school for Massage therapy and graduated 2nd in my class. I found myself….again. Through that, I found my own love for life again. I don’t judge, because I have been judged, I don’t preach: I teach, I am strong, because I have been broken to my core. Now I take all of this in my daily life and career working, being a House Manager for individuals with developmental disabilities. I personally prefer to say that my peeps just have different abilities. I help them define and use their skills the best they can. I love so much, but it is no comparison to the love I am given freely everyday of my life. I just hope one day I can be that pure of heart and teach as much as I am taught. I will end on this note. Be a light, be open, be you, above all LOVE.

A Bisexual unicorn – 20 years 🙂

I always knew that I was not like other girls, from the age of 8 when I liked my best friend. Nothing else happened until the years passed, at the age of 14 I was experiencing my sexuality, with fear and alone. One day I bravely told my mother, that I liked girls, she was so angry and forbade me from seeing my friends and took me to the psychologist. My soul was broken knowing that she was never going to accept me, it was a difficult time, when I was 16 I stopped going to the psychologist and spoke with my most close friends, who thanks to heaven, supported me and never left me alone. It took time but now I accept myself as I am, a woman who likes women and men. I am 20 years old right now, I wonder if someday I will be able to be happy, if I will be able to be myself with my family that is so homophobic, I would like to be who I am 24/7 and not just with my friends. I wish that the world was not so cruel with its labels and that my family accepts me, me, who only wants to love and be loved.

I am just me

I knew I was part of the community when I was 14 (I am 20now). I didn’t want to accept it because I didn’t want it. I was not surrounded by “people like that”, my friend with who I was passing my day was very close minded (not a friend anymore), my mom homophobic well was not good.
When I was 16 my friends ask me if I ever questioned my sexuality and with that question I felt in danger and said “no never why you ask?”
But the problem was in that group of friend I got a crush like I have never have on a girl. That was problematic…
I learn after that she was bi, and that the girls were fine with it.
The year after I drank too much at a party, told people that I was a lesbian …
I didn’t feel great after that I cried a lot whereas my friends were telling me it was great and that if they were lesbian they would want to date me.
Then I told my 2 bestest friends, they weren’t surprise at all, they said “well yes Lea obviously I knew it”
When they said that I felt In danger cause I was beginning to tell the people I felt comfortable, but was scared to be judge by others, and I didn’t want the people to know. I was wondering if somebody look at me if they would know.
High school was not great, didn’t feel right, I was not at my place, even if sometimes I was with the girl I had crushes on, and fatally fell in love with… even if we never had a relationship it has always been weird between us and still is a bit
This summer I dated a girl, I had to tell my mom….
Right after a surgery I told her, and she had the worst answer… she said nothing
She don’t like that, she is not ready to accept it.
I must not tell the family cause “it’s wrong they will judge” blabla
(Close minded family, thanks for my dad he is “only racist” (lol) but accept my sexuality)
At the university I m leaving great I feel good new people, nobody to judge we are way too many for the attention to be on me
Maybe I look at girls waaaaaay more that I look at boy maybe I m bi, maybe I am pan, maybe I am lesbian and don’t know I don’t want to know. It is not necessary for my well being all I know is that I am me and nobody is going to change that.
Thank you for reading that
Sending a Frenchy love

LOUISE

OK and wow… I first came out in 1974…a long, long time ago, in a world so unregonizable and foreign. After this teenage romance died I scurried back into the closet. I tried so hard to make it in the straight world. Now please remember in the 1970s there was no positive role model. There was no Melissa Etheridge, no Ellen. Representation of our community was nil. If we were represented on TV or film we were either killed off violently or we were freaking physcotic. At the lowest point I did consider harm to myself. I was alone and frigjtened
As hard as I tried I could not fit in with my straight friends. There was no positive space in universitys. Then… Ta da… Life threw me a life line. 1978 I met a woman who saved, who changed my life. She taught me gay was good. Being a. Lesbian was just fine. I was free. I was exhilarated. I was finally happy with me. I was going to be OK. With a lighter heart I embraced who I was. I came out to family–go figure, they weren’t surprised. My parents, etc were and have been extremely supportive. 1980…i met my sweetheart and this year we celebrate our 40th anniversary. Whew. Each day, each year has been an exciting adventure. Watching the LGBTQ grow, flourish. So… Moral of the story… Be, true to yourself, be true to your heart. Most of all be kind to yourself… Support one another and celebrate our pride.

Lesbian

i guess i knew i wasnt straight when i was watching greys anatomy and started liking amelia shepherd and lexie grey a little too much. i sort of obsessed over them and realized that wasn’t a thing straight girls did. i tried calling myself bisexual and it worked for a while, but eventually i realized i didn’t really like men the same way i like women. i told one of my close friends, and she encouraged me to tell my other friends. a year and five months ago i came out to my sister, and she said she wasn’t surprised. two weeks later i started dating one of my best friends, and we’ve been together for a little over a year and four months. then, 8 months ago, i came out to my mom. she wasn’t thrilled about me dating at 14, but she really didn’t care that i was gay. now she makes gay jokes with me and tells me to invite my girlfriend over for dinner. i’m glad i got the courage to come out, and im insanely grateful to my family for being so accepting and okay with it. so here i am, typing my story into a website. my name is hannah, i’m 15 years old, and i’m a proud lesbian.

Gay

I guess I started questioning my sexuality when I was 10, I’d experimented with girls and was just very confused. I didn’t know what it meant to like girls, but some part of me, did. As I grew up, my friends would ask me if I was bi, because they’d noticed how I looked at our vice principal, who happened to be a woman. I denied it. I denied liking anyone, until I met my boyfriend. He was my safety net. No one really questioned me anymore, because I had a boyfriend, so pretty much everyone just assumed I was straight, except the few people who knew. *Coughs* The girls I’d been with behind closed doors, and my therapist. When I was 15, my therapist outed me as bisexual to my mother, I was terrified because I grew up in a very closed-minded, judgmental, “Christian” “family”. Being too scared to tell the truth, I chickened out and said I was bi. This came with more questions, mainly from my mother. “I thought you liked boys, you have a boyfriend”. Then came the shame. “It’s a sin, you’ll go to hell”. And at the time, I didn’t know better, and wasn’t taught better, so I believed it. I believed I was going to go to hell, if I was myself. If I liked anyone but boys. So I tried. I tried to like boys for as long as I could. I dated boys. In secret, I also dated girls. I didn’t know how to stop how I felt, I was so confused. I was too sheltered and didn’t have any guidance or anyone to talk to about these feelings, until I discovered the TV show South Of Nowhere, in 2005. I was still 15, and didn’t have much supervision at night when my mom was at work, so I could watch whatever I wanted on TV. South Of Nowhere is a show about a girl very much like me, came from a very closed-minded, “Christian” family. She met a girl and started questioning everything. Ironically, the same character that made her question everything, made my brain go crazy. I’d liked this character way more than what was considered “normal”. I started deep diving into my thoughts and feelings with every new episode, and slowly, eventually I started realizing who and what I was. The show had a bunch of different perspectives so it really helped guide me to figure out what MY beliefs and opinions were. By the end of the series, 5ish years later, I had finally admitted it to myself. I had to come out to myself first. I was gay. There was guilt, I was still ashamed of who I was. It took a few years for me to be okay with who and what I was, but eventually I was. When I was about 20 my mom and I were in a heated argument about gay and transgender people, and she made me pretty upset so I told her that she was hurting my feelings because I’m one of the people she was being so hateful towards, she didn’t really understand and sort of just blew it off, didn’t really say anything. About a year later, when I was 21, the same argument happened, again. (We’d had a lot of those arguments). And again, I told her she was hurting me because I was gay. This time, she heard me.

My name is Hope, and I’m an out and proud, gay woman.

Gay cis gender woman

So… growing up being gay was never a thing. Nobody ever talked about it, or at least not that I remember. In like 6th grade we briefly discussed different sexualities but 6th grade me didn’t think anything of it.
Flash forward a few years and all the girls in my class have crushes on boys and start dating. I was never interested so remembering the 6th grade discussion I just thought I was asexual. Problem solved.
And then I started watching Ellen and figured out she was gay. It took me a while to get the internalized homophobia (and hell I don’t even remember where that even came from in the 1st place.. probably that my dad hates everyone who’s not “normal”) out of my head. But once I realized that people are gay and that’s fine I realized that that’s an option for me to. And there was this big ohhhhhh… Moment where I finally realized.
I then ignored that for another few weeks or months and then wrote about it in my diary. Immediately after I sent it to my internet best friend. She was the only person I trusted enough to tell and I knew she wouldn’t be very judgmental. And I guess the whole internet friendship aspect helped too. It’s easier when you don’t get a response to a text for a few days than it is being ignored irl.
So I sat there anxiously waiting for her response… And she didn’t read it for a while. But when she did read it she responded in the best way imaginable. And that meant a lot. It still does.
Months go by and I wanna tell my friend group that’s around me in school as well. But that involves 3 people. If you tell one.. you gotta tell everyone.
And it was a bunch of times that I was almost at this place where I thought I’m gonna do it. But then one friend (we’ll call her Sally)made some slightly homophobic comment or whatever that most likely meant nothing to her and I was back at zero. I did that a few times.
Finally, summer 2018 after 10th grade I was on vacation with my family. It was the last day of pride month and the next day was my birthday. So that day I gathered all my courage and over WhatsApp told the friend out of the group that I knew the longest and trusted the most(we’ll call her Lina). Her response was positive too.
2 weeks of vacation go by (yes, tactic that in case she reacts badly there’s time ’til we next see each other) and I’m back home. During the following week we met at the pool with another person from the friend group (we’ll call her Anna, not the judgy bitch). I was joking about this one guys hair bc he was relatively small but he had dreads which made his head look huge in comparison. She then asked me if I was into him or something. Both me and Lina giggled. Anna then asked what’s going on as she was very confused. Lina pushed me to tell her but I just couldn’t.
After we got home that day I took to WhatsApp to explain. I know I’m a coward but I can’t handle that much rejection. I get enough from my dad. Lol.
So I explained and she was very cool and understanding about it. So then it was time to tell Sally. Also over WhatsApp. And although she seemed accepting and all… Looking back hell no.
A few days later I met up with her at the pool and we were just laying in the sun talking when all of a sudden she asks me if I could really imagine fucking a girl. I at the time was totally flustered bc baby gay but looking back.. that’s such and inappropriate and dumb question.
Starting 11th grade I was out to my closest friends and so I felt okay about maybe slowly but surely telling other people. Meaning basically everyone but my parents and anyone who’d tell them.
Classes changed and I met a bunch of new people. It didn’t take long and I had queer friends. And that was amazing. Because all this time I thought I was alone… Yet to realize that wasn’t true at all.
One of them (Nick, if you for some reason ever read this, Hi) moved away after 11th Grade but he’s still one of my best (queer) friend.
In 11th grade there was this incident where Sally was showing me a chat with her boyfriend where he basically said he wanted to punch Nick because he’s gay and wearing makeup. She found that funny. And for her it was weird that I didn’t. Then she explained the back story which was apparently supposed to make it funny. Spoiler: it didn’t. It only made it more disgusting and horrifying to me. She never understood why I was offended by her boyfriend being homophobic. And her too.
I’m still very uncomfortable around him. Even tho I barely ever see him. Luckily. And she’ll be the 1st person I’ll cut off when I’m done with school.

ELIAS

I now am a proud trans* man but the journey to get there has been rough. I remember always feeling like I wasn’t a straight cisgender girl, but I also remember thinking if I ignore it, it will go away.
At age 14 I first saw a lesbian couple on screen. That gave me so much representation and feeling like I wasn’t alone. It really motivated me to come out as gay.
Two years later or something I like that I stumbled upon my first ever representation of a trans* man and I was so shocked to learn that trans* man existed. That may have been like that, because (especially in german/Austrian media) they only show trans* woman and they mostly do it for the sole reason to mock the community so I wasn’t really fond of that.
At the time I saw a trans* man in media for the first time I thought to myself I may be gender queer. I identified as gender queer for two years, before I came to the conclusion, that I myself was a trans* man. I’ve been out and proud as a trans* man for a little less than two years now (July 2020) and it was the best decision I could have ever made. I feel so much more like myself.
And to make it easier for people who might feel the same way I am fighting for more trans* (especially trans* male) representation in the media. You are not alone!

Being brave: a longlife lesson I’m still on my journey to learn…

All of my life I’ve known I like girls, even since I was just a little kid. But it didn’t matter to me that much because, as a kid I didn’t realize what that exactly meant. But then I got older… and as many other people must identify with (specially in latin countries): struggling with the fact that I come from a “macho culture” country as Guatemala, growing in an evangelical family, religious closed-minded-violent society, being the daugther of a respectable Doctor known by a lot of people, and belonging to a respectable family… and so on… those things over the years made me just (as Dominique wrote) suppress it, to the point that, for many years I tried to convince myself that it was absolutely not acceptable and I had to change and hopefully someday God would have enough mercy on me to change me, and if it didn’t happen, then I must just stay single for the rest of my life instead of having a homosexual relationship. Because it was not a good thing for my family, it was not a good thing in God’s eyes, because it is just wrong… and still at the eve of my 36’s I struggle so hard with those thoughts (that I know are not okay)… because that’s what I was taught.

Too many years have passed and.. yeap, I still like women, more than ever, and I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I definitely don’t have the same perception of life that I had 10, 15 or 20 years ago. And it makes me so sad to think that I have wasted so many years of my life where I could have just enjoyed and lived my sexuality freely without caring of what others would say, or think, but I’m working on it now, I think it’s never too late.

My coming out story though is not a happy one, back in 2009 I met a beautiful lady at work (we knew each other by sight only, from church and because our families also were old acquaintances… just imagine that). We started dating and we fell in love so deeply, we were together for almost 5 years, but of course we kept it secret for obvious reasons, even when we were not that young anymore (she was 28 and I 26) we were still so scared, we shared the same background, so at least, being with someone who understood the situation so well was kind of a comfort. Anyways, one day her brother (a total a.h.) saw us kissing and told their parents, and their parents talked to my parents, and as if we were children, they met to decide what they were going to do about it… that was the breaking point to our relationship, we tried to stay together but it got just so hard to confront them (not to mention, she had a daughter and it made it so much difficult)… well… just not to extend on this, we finally broke up. Didn’t speak for years… she got married last year and I’m still single.

I’m about to turn 36 and even when I came out to my friends a long time ago, and all of them were very supportive… the situation with my family injured my heart and soul, so deep, and since we were never that open with each other, my parents and I never talked about the subject after that incident. So it felt like it never happened, and if it made them feel calmed, that was enough for me. My two sisters, thank God have been such a bleesing, they’ve been my supporting point, otherwise I would’ve gone crazy.

And well… why now? Why am I deciding to write this down? I’ve never talked to anyone about all this… and so many things have happened in the last years, that I just feel overwhelmed, but the breaking point to me was on last december, when I lost my mom due to cancer, since then, I’ve been having so many regrets, because back in those days when they found out I was a lesbian, she was so hurt that she didn’t talk to me for a couple of weeks, and I tried to understand and not being angry at her, and she wrote me a letter (that I still keep with me) asking me to open up to her and talk to her about my feelings… and I never did, because I felt so guilty and bad, and I just didn’t want to hurt her more, I mean, I mistakenly thought she had more important things to worry about, I was a grown up girl after all so I just decided to deal with it on my own… and now I realize I should have done it… maybe I wouldn’t have felt so alone. Maybe, having done it many years earlier, I wouldn’t have to go through that painful stage of my life where I just found comfort in alcohol and trying to stay away from home… I mean, it wasn’t their fault after all.

And here I stand, trying to take babysteps on being brave enough to embrace my true self, and living my life the way it makes me happy… trying to get rid of the religious ideas implanted on me, trying to find that confidence to open up to my dad (who is and has always been a good man and a good father… but old fashioned)… and I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me, but I finally decided, it’s time to stop suppressing, it’s time to start being myself around my people… I’m still so so scared of hurting my father and dissappointing him, but I just can’t keep living like this anymore. So I’m doing this for me.

I apologyze if I’m not so eloquent in my writing, but I just took this space as a liberating point of all the things I carry with me, don’t even know if someone’s going to read it, but I just needed to get it out of my head for a change.

Blessings to everyone.

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