Community Rainbow Waves

Samantha – Homoromantic Demisexual – She/Her/Hers

My story takes place in Texas, commonly known as one of the least open-minded states in the United States. My story is a long one, as my identity evolved drastically through time. I am blessed, however, to have grown up in a very loving and accepting family. I’ve known members of the LGBTQ2IA+ community my whole life, yet I never really considered it for myself until I was around 16. As a kid everyone would ask what we wanted to be when we grew up and I would stay silent because there’s only one thing I’ve ever wanted to be. Happy. At 16 I had no idea who I was and how could I be happy when I didn’t even know what or who I wanted in life. I honestly didn’t have much to go off of, I’d never had so much as a crush on anyone, regardless of gender. I credit much of my realization to the love I have for television. At 16 I would watch pairings like Clarke and Lexa from the 100 and it helped me to accept the fact that maybe I was gay. I say that like I was just like “Yep, I’m gay” but honestly I just felt like I needed to put a label on myself and although “gay” didn’t really feel like it fit who I was completely, I didn’t really know what else I could be. I could imagine myself in a relationship with a woman in a way that, to this day, I cannot imagine with a man. And honestly, the thought terrified me. Society can be cruel, as can my mind. I began to ask myself if the “unconditional” love my parents had for me was truly that, or if I would lose everything and everyone I love in one fell swoop by coming out. I mentally weighed the options countless times and basically began to prepare for the worst. Family and friends have always been the most important thing in my life and therefore, I decided that I if I could save my relationships by waiting for the “perfect moment” then that’s what I would do. Fear cost me a year of my life and I quickly learned that the perfect moment does not exist. So I decided to do what I do best, and write it down. See I’ve tried the in person coming out thing and call me a coward, but I am not built for the extra level of stress and anxiety it gave me. So a week after my 17th birthday, I came out to my parents as gay via college application. I don’t think I’ll ever forget holding my breath as they read over my shoulder, nor will I forget the silence that seemed to last forever before my mother sat next to me, turned towards me, and asked…”so you really never want to see men naked????” I laughed and the anxiety began to fade, even if the label wasn’t a perfect fit. I knew it was just the first step to coming out, but I had at least gotten through it alive. Though the inaccuracy of the label I had given myself still bothered me. That’s when I turned to research. So. Much. Research. Why didn’t I experience crushes the same way that other people did? Why did I not care at all about sex in a society that was seemingly obsessed with it? That same week I came across AVEN, the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network, and began to read. I cried. They were describing me. Until that moment I had never heard of asexuality, it was so far off my radar and I quickly learned just how far off everyone else’s radar it was too. Cut to 18 year old me entering college for the first time. At this point I had come out to my immediate family. Again. And a select few of my friends. I had also been told by various people that people like me “shouldn’t exist” or that it was just a phase I would grow out of. I learned how common it was for asexual people to feel broken or even inhuman. People often assume that due to our sexuality, we don’t have emotions or the capacity to love or be loved. A cruel assumption but one that still occasionally plagues my feeling of self-worth. Despite these social pressures however, I entered college wanting nothing more than to be out and proud in this new place with all these new people. For the most part I was, though I knew that for every acquaintance I told, there was a family member that should’ve heard it from me first. So once again, I wrote it down. At 19, I came out on instagram and the same week I mailed 7 coming out letters and just like that, I was out to the world. The most stressful week of my life freed me. I was able to finally live my life as the emotional burden began to lift. Never have I been prouder of myself than in that moment. The 3 year journey led me to finally feeling seen and comfortable with who I am. Flashing forward to my life now as a 20 year old, my journey continues towards self-love. And although the state of the world worries me, I can honestly say that sitting down with my parents during this quarantine and watching Wynonna Earp, I really feel, for the first time in a very long time, happy. #OutIsTheNewIn

I identify as a lesbian

Okay so I know now that I have always been gay, but I just realized that with 16 (now 18) basically when I had my second surgery I had a huge crush on this night shift nurse hahaha and I have always pressed the nursing button so that she would come and talk to me. Then the first person I told that was my best friend and she was totally okay with it.
After 3 more weeks I spoke to my brother, me and him were sitting in the car and talked and I just wanted to tell him. I told him „ I have to tell you something but I also am very scared to tell you” he said that it’s all good and that he would never judge me for any actions that I did. But then I got scared again and said that I won’t tell him and well he said „ why what’s wrong do you have a boyfriend?” and I said no. He answer with do you like girls ? And I said yes and I got so ashamed… he looked up to me and said and ? That doesn’t change anything!
2 years later
Im fully out to everyone and I’m proud to tell my not soooo dramatic or shocking story but I just feel like that you can always count on your siblings ( at least I can I hope you too)
I feel like he reacted in the perfect and accepting way 🙂 and as a example my when my grandmother found out she wasn’t happy about it and treated me like I’m not worth it and today I don’t talk to her anymore, but that is okay if she doesn’t accept me that she can’t be in my life.
So I hope you are all Save and have a Great Morning/evening/Weekend/week
XO

The woman in Compartment C, Car 193

I didn’t come to terms with my sexuality until I tried to be everything else but myself first. Even today, I shy away from receiving love. I remember feeling myself let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding at Electric Forest on June 26th, 2015. I remember the day before not being as colorful. It was in Nashville years prior that I took my first big step to come out. It was midnight and sleep was impossible those days. I slipped out through the back door of the second story entrance down a long staircase past the window of my sleeping roommates, and I would get into the car and drive down the rocks of Battlefield Drive. I drove alone on the streets of Nashville past Sevier park, past Belmont University, and I would hear the clash of live bands outside of the bars off Broadway. This was the only way I could quiet my anxieties. Sometimes, Abigail and William would pick me up in their wagon and take me to East Nashville. We would walk into their bare house and go to the back yard and start the fire pit. William would turn on Delta Spirit, and they would let me talk about whatever it was that was keeping me up at night. It was always the same thing, but I wasn’t brave enough to talk about it. So I talked around it, and they let me. They gave me the space I needed to talk circles around my sexuality until I felt safe enough to talk about it directly. After I did, I was able to come out to my friends one by one. I flew to NYC to have dinner with a friend and to tell her I loved her when we were in high school. At JFK, I called my mom and started crying as I told her what I confessed to my friend. I asked her if that was okay and if she stilled loved me (which she said of course). Coming out wasn’t hard just the first time. It was hard every time, and even after coming out and moving to Los Angeles, I still found myself hiding behind terms that didn’t fit me, like bisexuality. I spent the first couple years in Los Angeles testing the waters, but still feeling like I wasn’t confident enough to be myself. Even today, I have to remind myself to let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. And this isn’t always the same breath. We are constantly restricting ourselves in different ways, oftentimes unnoticed. The times that I am the happiest are the times I didn’t even realize I was letting go. I was just being me at that moment, not for anyone else, and not for any other purpose but to be.

Bisexual

For me, it all started with a dream. I had a dream about my best friend when I was 15, and that was when I knew that I had deeper feelings for her. We ended up falling in love and having a relationship for almost two years. We chose to keep it a secret because we were so afraid of being judged by our family and friends. The secrecy ultimately led to our demise. In college, I started to tell people my story. Everyone struggles with their identity, but it’s even harder when you grew up in a community that has a negative view of who you truly are. When I stopped repressed who I was, I started living as my true self. Honestly, I was so surprised by the love and support I received from everyone. I told my family and have their full support. For me, I needed the love and acceptance of others to ultimately love myself. I am proudly bisexual! Being apart of the LGBTQ+ community is my superpower and has given me the ability to feel deep empathy towards others. I have learned to stop judging myself, which in turn made me stop judging others. Love always win.

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

Jenna

I have never posted anything serious on social media and I do not like to post for all to see, but I wanted to get my story out there somehow. When I saw the video that @dominauep_c uploaded I thought I might be able to help others with my story. I understand there is a certain limit on characters with these social media outlets, but I think my story is pretty crazy and actually inspiring for anyone willing to listen. Some days I don’t even know how I am still here and still sane. The story I am about to tell isn’t for sympathy or pity but it is for hope. It’s for others to realize that things can get dark but there is always that glimmer of hope at the end.

I was born in an upper middle class family. I was the middle child and probably the cutest out of my siblings. From what I can recall I had a great childhood and a loving family. When I was 13 my family decided to take one more camping trip before the school year started. Little did I know then, but that day my whole life would change.
My mother ended up having a heart attack on the vacation and would never come back home. My father being the man that he was ended up remarrying 3 months after my mother’s passing to a abusive drug addict with 6 kids. With my fathers decision to remarry our extended family fell away. My life went from a loving family of 5 to a family of 11. Life was terrible for me and my siblings. I was constantly physical and verbally abused for years by my step mother with my fathers knowledge. At the end of my ropes, I finally fought back. My father choosing his new family kicked me and my siblings out. My grandparents took us in but only to a certain extent. We lived in their garage and could only bathe in their pool. My sister during this time was to young and had to move back in with my father and my brother ended up moving away to college, leaving me at the hands of my grandparents. Once again physically and verbally abused, my only escape was to go to college.
Going into my freshmen year of college my father decided he wanted me back in his life. He divorced his wife and got a small apartment for us to live. On my first semester break from college, I went home to his apartment to find it abandoned, no note nothing, my dad once again left me and moved in with his new girlfriend. With no where to go, I moved into my car.
When the semester break was over I returned to college and actually became good friends with a girl from my hometown. Telling her my story, her family took me in. I had a loving family again. It was great and awesome until one day I fell in love with that girl. We hid this relationship from her family, and our closest friends for 11 years. We played the straight life in public, but behind closed doors we were in love. Through those closeted 11 years together we went on dates with men to keep rumors of us together at bay.
At the age of 25 I finally saved enough money to buy my first house. My hopes were to have my girlfriend move in with me and actually come out to our friends and family. Like everything else in my life things did not go as planned. We immediately became estranged from my girlfriends family and also mine. It was hell for 2 years for us. I was getting death threats on the regular from her family that I ruined their life and I turned their daughter gay. I was an abomination to society and shouldn’t be loved for what I am. Despite what we were going through we got married in those two years. My wife’s father did not show and her mother the day before decided she would come. My family ended up coming but only a handful and our wedding was mostly celebrated by our friends who supported us.
We bought a house shortly after our wedding and in hopes of starting a family. I am going to fast forward three years and cut out more heartache of miscarriages to current day.
I am 33 now, I have my own family. I am married to the woman I fell in love with 14 years ago. We have a beautiful 16 month old spitfire and one on the way. We have a beautiful home and finally some hope of happiness and peace.I no longer talk to my family for they believe being gay and brining children into this world is cruel. My wife’s family accepts/tolerates us/ me.
I am telling my story to bring hope to those going through dark times and for those who feel alone. We are not alone and we can bring change and we need to bring change. It is important to fight and keep fighting for what we believe in no matter how dark times may get. Fight for yourself and fight for love.
I will end on words that have kept me going “happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn the light on” – Dumbledore

Queer!

i first realized that i wasn’t quite straight when i was 12. it was the scariest thing that had ever happened to me, and i tried to suppress my feelings for a couple years before i realized that i couldn’t live my life like that.
a couple months before i turned 17, i decided to stop pretending and stop hiding. it was both the most daunting and most relieving thing i’d ever done. i was extremely lucky to have friends that graciously welcomed me into their arms, and i am so incredibly thankful for them.
people that i grew up with were forced to see that lgbtq+ do exist, and that their existence is normal. my coming out may have been uncomfortable and scary at the time, but now, i’m so proud of myself for being open and true to myself, as well as opening the eyes of people that had previously held negative ideas about the lgbtq+ community.
i’m here, i’m queer, and i fucking love people.

Pat F. (she/her)

Little Pat already knew that she liked boys and girls. Surrounded by friends and always dreaming of colorful friendships. But only the boys had the courage. The girls only saw their friend. I kissed many boys, but I knew that one day I would kiss girls.

I let time take care of that part. And when a girl finally wanted to kiss me I just closed my eyes and let it happen. It was wonderful.

The time passed and the falmiliar meetings speculating the life of others about boyfriends, children, marriage … And I let them talk about how many boyfriends I had. I have never spoken openly to the “family” that I am queer (I like different types of people). My 2 sisters, 1 niece and my closest friends know that I am queer because I don’t hide.

But this year I decided to put the rainbow flag in the description on the social networks that I am on. Family members and acquaintances will see what they never really wanted to know.

And Dominique Provost-Chalkley, you are a beautiful person!
I was unable to read your statement and remain silent.
Thanks to your delicacy I wanted to write …

I am OUT. (and also a ACE “demisexual” brazilian person)

#OutIsTheNewIn

One More Drop In This Gorgeous Sea

Firstly pardon my english, I’m actually brasilian.
We all want answers. When we are kids almost EVERYTHING amazes us, and when we grow up, our questions gets more and more complex and complicated…

But Well… I KNOW Love is not one of them. I felt it before.

When It gets complicated, then it’s not love, cause Love transforms a messy knot into a beautifull colorfull line (like a rainbow haha)

Love is understandingfull. Love is kind. And love is not just a feeling itself… It is a way to see the world, and the lackness of it, in some moments, disconect us from the BEST within us.
If you don’t believe me just remember that everything we make with loving, end up beautifull, colorfull, organized (just look at the sky at night), sweet… like a gentle breeze sliding through every strand of hair…

Love is not only about ourselves, but about others too, cause we can donate from us this beautiful energy. By admiring someone, by giving importance to that person,
by touching and being touched by everything that ever happened to that person.
But also love is NOT the absence of pain! Love is a way of living that allow us to be STRONG when pain comes, and not being complainfull about it…
there is actually a spoiled side of us to think that EVERYTHING is ALWAYS destined to end up well… (and by “well” I meant the way we WANT it to end up) Cause It won’t. Which is good, cause pain help us grow. If pain make you feel more scared, then you’re not loving.
I KNOW everything has a purpose. Nature shows us EVERYTHING has a purpose. Sometimes we just don’t know what for.
I do care about LGBT comunity, cause it is important to talk about LOVE diversity. There is many many ways to get to this sea.

As I discovered those paths I realized few important things… You don’t NEED to change everything you are because you realized something new about yourself, but if you WANT TO, then so be it: Change!
But Change for better! Use comprehension, not hate. Otherwise isn’t it hipocrisy to fight hate and exclusion with hating and exclusion?
Does EVERYTHING has to evolve through pain? Does peace has to arrive through battle wounds? Can’t we just KNOW it by heart?
It doesn’t mean we should trust everyone, It is DUMB. It means we should always hope for the better of someone, as much as we hope for ourselves.
But remember… you are still you! With new improves haha. Don’t you EVER forget who you are. What you truly believe. What you really want. And most importantly don’t you ever forget about love. And if there is no love, then you shouldn’t content yourself with less!

And I guess that’s my flag. I don’t know, but ONE DAY, I’ll be strong enough to make people around me feel like this: powerfull, bold, strong, important, seen and happy.
I am nobody. But a nobody with a lot in my mind, I guess…

Aaaaand that’s how I came out.

In the end we only regret the chances we didn’t take.

I knew I was a part of the LGBTQ+ community when I was 13 and met my best friend. My best friend is genderqueer and showed me what the LGBTQ+ community is. At first, I was amazed that I had spent so much of my life not knowing about this fantastic community but then, I got to thinking what if I’m a part of the LGBTQ+ community? So being the person that I am, I spent hours upon hours of researching and learning everything I could about the LGBTQ+ community. And after learning and researching until my brain felt like it was going to die, I came to the conclusion I was bisexual. The next day I came out to my best friend and she was accepting. I then proceeded for the next couple of months to come out to friends; they all were accepting. In late December of 2018, I came out to my parents as a lesbian. I didn’t come out to them as bisexual because I knew deep down I was lesbian. Nonetheless, my parents are accepting of my sexuality. The next day I came out to my brother, and he was accepting and then later that day came out as gay to me and my parents; my parents are accepting of his sexuality as well. I then spent the next year coming out to my aunts, uncles, and cousins; and they all are accepting of my sexuality. Overall, I am just so grateful to have an accepting family and friends that I can truly be myself around. I couldn’t ask for a better coming out story.