Community Rainbow Waves

The Long Road To Acceptance

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT SELF-HARMING BEHAVIOUR.

It all started when I was 12 years old and I had my first experience with lesbian representation on tv. For some reason I couldn’t get it off my mind and I sat alone in my room wondering if it could be possible… could I be gay? The answer was clearly yes but my young, innocent self didn’t figure it out that easily. I went through the stages, denial, denial, oh she’s beautiful… wait, denial, denial, denial. At this time in the world the whole concept of LGBT+ was taboo and so separate from what is taught to us as ‘normal’ that I believed something was wrong with me. This couldn’t be happening to me. I was 12-13 years old and I already hated myself.

I then felt, that because I had discovered this aspect of me, I had to come out immediately. Isn’t that how it goes? I was pressured by a ‘friend’ to tell them my secret but the fear consumed me and I couldn’t do it. I now know it’s because I wasn’t ready but that didn’t matter to her and I wrote my secret on a small piece of paper in class. She opened it and class was over. I felt sick and terrified. That’s not where the note stopped and instead it made it’s way to someone else… Then you know how school is. The next day a lot of people knew. I don’t even know who did or didn’t to this day but at the time it felt as though my whole world knew and they were all staring at me. I lost all of my friends. I had no one. It made me feel dirty. I didn’t want this anymore.

I didn’t deal with this well at all or in a healthy way. I was cowering to the farthest corner of the closet trying to grasp onto the darkness with all of my strength. The same person that received my note first showed me how to take my fear, disgust, punishment out on myself physically. It didn’t help but I needed control over something because I was lost. The darkness of that closet spread to my life everywhere and I was very close to ending the darkness all together…

I made it, I’m not sure how, but I made it through school and at 16 years old I was free of those people and the label of being gay. So I left the label there and I pretended like I’d never even considered it to begin with. For another 3-4 years I lived in blindness of who I was and did everything I could to stop any thoughts of the past and the rainbow. To be honest, for a while it worked but was I happy? Was I comfortable? Did I deserve it? No absolutely not.
I started university, I got with guys. I got told I should be getting with guys. Does it feel like this for everyone? Maybe you aren’t supposed to really like it? I did not enjoy it but I was still covering my eyes and ears from anything other than what was expected. I guess I actually drank enough to dull my senses and not acknowledge what was really happening. Yes, my use of physical harm on myself moved to borderline alcoholism. I mean it is university after all. But this way of living helped me kiss who I wanted to kiss and be with who I wanted to without explaining myself almost. When you do kiss who you are meant to, I am telling you, it feels amazing and right and everything it should. Wait… can I actually do this? Look around, people here don’t care. No one cares. Yes, please be yourself. It feels too good not too.

Watch out, your rainbow is showing! Finally.

It doesn’t matter how I got here or how long it took. What matters is that I did. This is my journey. It is beautiful.

I managed to find my truth and even though it took counselling and a breakdown to grieve my straight self I am me and I found someone outstanding to love along the way.

I finally accept myself, the love of my support system which I am incredibly lucky to have and the love from myself. I’m not going to lie and say it’s easy or it is always sunshine now but it is true and it is free. I still get looks when I hold my girlfriend’s hand in public. I still get approached by people when I decide to kiss her in public. I still don’t tell people I first meet about my sexuality because I don’t want to be judged. I still scout out any representation I can of LGBT+ content in media because we still don’t have enough (but thank you for what we do have, just don’t kill off all the lesbians please). However, I will take all of that because I also love this unique part of myself and I really bloody love love.

It is getting better and we are all in this together. I am thankful for my story and I am thankful for my gay.

So breathe, take your time, love yourself and make waves. You got this!

Love, Hannah.

#OUTISTHENEWIN

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

Happiness

I started to realise I liked girls when I was around 11 years old. Before that age, I’d had crushes on girls but not really known they were crushes. I thought I just wanted to look like those girls or be best friends with them. But that wasn’t the case. My mother would often call me a “dyke” if I wore certain clothes that she thought to be too masculine etc. I was very much a tomboy. She’d tell me “people will think you’re gay” and that scared me a little bit. Where I lived, a lot of people were assaulted because they were gay. I even had people would call me gay like it was a bad thing, like it was a hateful word and so I accepted it as that. That was until I told my friend that I believed I liked girls and she told me she also felt that way. My whole life I’d only ever heard bad things said about the community. But with this friend, I finally didn’t feel alone. Before telling my friend, I’d fallen into some very dark places. It was a scary time that I’d never want to relive. I came out to my mother as bisexual when I was 17. I remember the moment incredibly vividly. We were sat on the couch, my laptop open with the wallpaper as Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn, and my mother looks at my laptop, laughs, and calls me a “dyke” yet again. It bothered me. So I finally just said “you know what, yeah, I like girls”. We had a lengthy talk and she told me it didn’t bother her. It was nice to hear because, even though I did not need her acceptance, I still wanted it in a way. I came out as bisexual to her, and my closest friends, because I wanted to hold onto the idea of “maybe I’m still a bit normal if I say I still like boys”. I was confused and depressed for a very long time, even after coming out as bisexual because I still wasn’t being 100% honest with myself. I just wanted to be normal. But then I realised that everyone’s idea of “normal” is different. I thought that if I pretended to keep liking, and dating, boys that it would somehow make people view me as not so different. But, now at the age of 20, I have finally accepted myself for who I truly am and that is a lesbian. I know some people who don’t feel that they need to label themselves but I did. I needed a label and I’ve finally found the one that fits me best. I’m sexually and emotionally attracted to women and I simply don’t feel anything like that for men. It doesn’t make me weird or not normal; it simply makes me, me. I finally love myself and I’m finally confident. I can now openly talk to my mother about my sexuality and not feel terrified. I can watch shows like Wynonna Earp, Carmilla, Buffy etc with her and not feel like I have to hide the fact I watch them simply because they have queer relationships in them. She loves me for who I am and so do my friends. Others opinions of you aren’t vital, but it’s still comforting for me, personally, to know that they are happy for me. It took my a long time to finally accept who I am but noe that I have I’m happy and I wouldn’t change a thing!

There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.

I identify as a lesbian

My story started when I was in the 6th grade and I’d notice that I was always looking harder and lingering when I looked at women and never paid attention to boys. I could never relate or join into convo when my friends would all talk about their boy crushes and that did put me on the outside of their world in a way but it also made he have a sense that I wasn’t suppose to be in that world. Anyway, this was a Christian private school with closed minded hearts and minds so I wasn’t eager to expose myself until my last year there in 9th grade when I just about did not care anymore because it came down to loving myself for who I was or faking it till I made it and being depressed. I just about had it and wasn’t gonna be ashamed of it. Thankfully 10th grade came around and I switched to the largest public school in Louisiana because I was snot a closed minded private school person and any sense and loved meeting new and crazy people. This decision changed my life for the better, it made me realize that no one at the school really cared because they had bigger things in their lives to think about. I met an amazing group of friends who accepted be fully which I never really truly thought could happen. But , years later and I’m now 22 and I’ve met so many wonderful lgbt people, dating lots , and am happen to be who I am today and I’m grateful for my experiences. Hope this story helps some of you in the aspect that it does get better and you are worthy of love and acceptance. Love you!

No rainbow without the rain – Queer sunshine

My story isn’t the saddest or the most unique one to tell but it is my story. And in the LGBTQIA+ community it is all about representation, so here I go.

Lucky enough for me, when I first discovered that I liked girls it didn’t scare me or terrify me (at first). It was just the way I felt – I recognised it as a part of me, like an inherent puzzle piece of mine. I didn’t judge it as something that needed to be addressed or spoken about, rather, I didn’t think of it much. Almost like breathing: you breath without thinking – in and out – every day, every minute, everywhere. That’s how I felt about being interested in girls, it’s just a part of my nature.

I was about 13 years old. And part of why it came to me so easily, without struggling about what it may or may not mean, was due to the Russian band t.A.T.u. Okay, now, we all know it was for show, BUT and that is the important part: I felt represented, I felt like I wasn’t the only one, and even though it was a controversial topic back then, most people discussed it in a very open-minded way. The topic was present in the media. With 14 I had my first girlfriend, and my Dad was totally cool about it. We never needed to talk about it or address it any way – just like me, he never needed to wrap his head around it.

My mom, however, was different: She somehow suspected something, so she went snooping through my things and found a letter of my girlfriend at the time. It was after her telling me that she was disappointed in me, that no child of hers would behave in such a way that I realised being gay or being queer, or whatever label describes you best is maybe not just like breathing. It was the first time that I felt ashamed of myself, that I started thinking about what it meant to be different, that I didn’t feel accepted for who I am. It was within these struggles that I broke up with my girlfriend and that I didn’t have any kind of relationship for the longest of time.

After high school, I went abroad to Canada: learning about myself, working for the first time, living in a foreign country, speaking a different language, and just trying my best to find my authentic and true self. And it was the way people openly accepted me and my queer ways, that I understood that whatever I feel, whomever I feel something for is okay, is valid. I’ve never in my life encountered people who were more open-minded than Canadians, like ever! I’m forever grateful for my Canadian (host) family, for making me feel at ease with myself, for accepting me with all my queeriness.

Today I’m married to the most wonderful woman in the world, we are proud of our relationship and of our love. That doesn’t mean that we do not struggle anymore, or that everyone just accepts us. On the contrary, even though my mum was at our wedding, she does not accept us 100%, she still thinks that the way I live my life is wrong. BUT I know that nothing about love is ever wrong. I know that love and human beings can have a million different colors, and another million different shades of these colors – and that is beautiful. Maybe, just maybe, the more we are willing to stand up for ourselves, to be loud and proud, the more people see that, indeed, love is love, that this precious feeling, the truest of them all, is a wonderful thing and that instead of being ashamed of it we should embrace it with both arms as strong as we possibly can. And when there are moments – and we cannot deny that there are – when people do not accept us, say that homosexuality is a sin, call us names, then we must remember that it is exactly this rain that, together with our inner sun rays, becomes the world-encompassing rainbow we all want to see one day.

My Journey 10 Years Later

I had a feeling I was different many years ago but I did not realize what was different or how I was different form the rest of the people in my class. In 2010, I started develop feelings for a girl and the whole thing made me confused, scared and I had no idea who to open up to about this. At the time I was living in a very conservative country and it was taboo to talk about anything related to the LGBTQ+ (times have changed and the country is a little more understanding now). Since I had no one, I tried opening up to someone I considered my best friend. However, nothing prepared me for happened on March 23rd 2010.

At the time I was still figuring out myself and trying to navigate the feelings I was having but on that day I was outed to my entire class. It was scary because I was not ready to admit to a group of people that I am gay, I was not yet ready to accept it myself. It was all new to me and possibly my biggest secret was out there in the open now. That day I locked away my emotions, built my walls up high and distanced myself from a lot of people. 5 years later I was joining university and leaving the bad memories of high school behind. I desperately needed it as I knew I needed to start fresh and discover myself in a different environment where I wasn’t going to be judged for who I am.

I made new friends but it took me nearly a year to open up to them and show them what kind of person I am. With their unconditional support and patience with me, I started breaking down my walls, showing my emotions, communicating more and most of all, accepting myself for who I am. When I first came out to one of my friends, I was beyond scared because I only had memories of March 23rd but her response was different and she valued my privacy knowing I was still building myself back up again.

10 years on, I have made peace with the events that happened that day but it will always stick with me. Reflecting back I know it made be become more confident in my own skin as well as overall. It made me learn to understand different people and how they cope with different things. It helped me help close friends who are questioning themselves and ask me what my story is.

No one should ever be outed or forced to out themselves when they aren’t ready. It is a journey of discovering yourself and I am still on that journey learning new things about myself. I am proud of where I have reached so far from 2010 and I am proud of who I am.

Bisexual

This isn’t really the most interesting coming out story in the world but I thought I’d contribute my story anyway.
I figured out that I was attracted to girls in the seventh grade. It wasn’t so much a “Oh shit! I like girls! I’m not straight!” as it was a “Oh, so the magnitude of my fixation on *insert any female actress* is NOT experienced by everyone”. However, I didn’t really process what that information meant until one of my classmates had offhandedly mentioned that she had a girlfriend and that she identified as a lesbian. Now don’t get me wrong, I knew that people could like someone of the same gender identity, but the meaning behind being queer held no weight to me until someone put a label onto it. It sort of clicked in a way that made me realize that maybe I was bisexual. Because of that realization, I did the obvious thing and took hundreds of “What is my sexuality?” quizzes and found solidarity and comfort among the dozens of famous or slightly relevant LGBTQ+ Youtube videos and Youtube series’ that were available in 2014.
Before my descent down the rabbit hole that is the numerous quality LGBTQ+ media available to the public, I decided to come out to one of my former best friends. She did not realize that was trying to come out to her, and I had to come out to her again 4 years later.
It took me 2 years after I had realized that I wasn’t straight to actually come out to someone, 1 year to feel comfortable with a label, and like 1 month to decide that- if someone asked me what my sexuality was- I would tell them the truth. So basically, it took 2 years for one of my other best friends to outright ask me if I was asexual before I could say that I was pan/bi. It took me a year after that to come out to my best friend since elementary school. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to hide my sexuality from her as it was that it wasn’t something I wanted to be defined by, nor was it the most important detail about me. Despite my resolve to just come out to her if I ended up liking someone who happened to have the same gender identity as me, I panic texted her. This was after a friend of ours asked me if I was straight while my best friend was sitting there with us. I ended up giving that friend a roundabout answer and then came out officially to my best friend at midnight over text.
Now, I am luck enough to not experience extreme homophobia directed at myself and I am extremely lucky to be, and have been, friends with open-minded and accepting people, so I didn’t really consciously feel internalized homophobia/biphobia until years after I realized that I was indeed NOT straight. I didn’t feel that way until I was asked by my mom to warn her if I happened to be attracted to a girl or, better yet, just not like girls at all. Because of that, I grew conscious of the underlying yet ever-present homophobia found in my relative’s uninformed opinions about the LBGTQ+ community. I wasn’t afraid that my family would disown me or stop loving me, but I became afraid that I would have to compromise who I am in order not be seen as an outlier by my aunts and uncles. Honestly, I was more afraid because I wasn’t sure how my parents would react. I ended up hiding who I am from both my parents and my older sister, who I knew didn’t care and didn’t hold the same “traditionalist” values that my extended family and my parents did. I was too afraid that, if I told her, my parents and extended family would somehow find out. I made the same resolve that I had made before with my elementary school best friend: I would just casually introduce my girlfriend to her when I eventually started to actually date girls (or people in general). That, however, did not happen. Instead, I came out to her when she asked me how I identified while we were watching Bon Appetit Youtube videos.
These aren’t the only coming out stories that I have, and I definitely didn’t elaborate on every detail, but these were the moments that actually held some importance to me. Each time I came out to someone that held/holds an extreme amount of importance to my life, none of it went as planned. I had to take a leap of faith and trust that I was loved enough that, a detail about who I was, wasn’t going to change how my friends and family viewed me. I’m still not out to the rest of my family, but knowing that I didn’t have anything to hide from my sister lifted a weight I didn’t even know I had on me. Even without me coming out, my parents have started to become more welcome to the idea that girls like girls and that’s okay.
Just having even one person to talk to, who knew I liked girls, helped me to become even more comfortable with my sexuality. Without the positive LGBTQ+ representation in the media, I would have felt alone before I even knew what I identified as. I was okay with my sexuality until I wasn’t, but, even then, I had enough support to continue to take leaps of faith.
I don’t think there’s really a right way to come out, nor do I know when the right time to come out is. However, I do think that having even one person (whether it’s someone online or someone you know in real life) know and support you for who you are is by far the most freeing thing in the world.
I’m out and proud to the people that I get to choose to include in my life, and I am so excited to see the world continually progress and become a more accepting place (with better LGBTQ+ and PoC representation in mainstream media)

I am a bisexual

When I was still a little I always admire girls. But I do fall for guys too. Until the time that I got to have a relationship with a girl. But my family doesn’t know yet about my sexual preferences. Though I am starting to out my self here in Bacolod City which is far from home.

I am a Skatebording Bronx NY Musician

Sometimes being a wild musician has repercussions.
I had known for a while that I had lesbian tendencies. Women are beautiful creatures, truly. Being a pretty boisterous musician on stage, I also like to keep my private life separate.
A few girls had come and gone, under the radar of most of my friends and family…
Until I was lowkey dating this cute little troublemaker of a girl in my mid 20’s. We got uhm…into things in my old bedroom – an artsy basement turned music studio where my band mates and I tackled each other one night and somehow flew into the bedroom door, knocking it clear off its hinges (mind you, I fell backwards with it) and laziness prevented me from fixing it. After all, I had moved out a while back, so no need…right?

As things heated up, I wasnt paying attention to my surroundings and my father somehow found his way into the basement to ask me about dinner. Low and behold, he pokes his head thru the blanket aka makeshift door, and BOOM. Caught. Red. freaking. handed. (How embarassing!)
I’ve never seen him dart back upstairs so fast lol.
AND Woah! Instant cold shower. For both of us. I didnt know what to do! She kinda paniced! I hadda think fast.
So I quickly threw myself together, and went upstairs.
My poor dad. ‘I am not sure what I just saw…uhm’
I put my hands into my sweatpants pockets and kinda squeeked out
‘Well……I am gay? And that was my beautiful girlfriend downstairs and uhhhh here lemme go get her and introduce you.’ He was shocked, but totally fine with it. Everyone was! What a relief. I got lots of support and I should have said something sooner. But Talk about being outright caught. We still laugh about it to this day.