Community Rainbow Waves

Alycia N.

I knew for quite a while that I had weird feelings for girls that I felt like I shouldn’t be having. In middle school, I was having the hardest time feeling normal. I wasn’t having the same feelings towards boys that all my friends were having, during lunch my friends would talk about all the boys they liked, and I was making stuff up because I didn’t want to seem weird. This made me very depressed because I was unsure what was wrong with me. I would come home and watch ‘Friends’ and I always had a crush on Rachel, but I would just tell myself that every girl thinks other girls are pretty, it’s just being nice right?! Every gay character I seen on television growing up was a background character who rarely came on. High school came around and I became more depressed keeping all of my feelings in, I did not like the person I seen in the mirror. I wanted to cut my hair and wear clothes that I felt more comfortable in. During my junior year of high school, I came out to my close friend who was a boy. After I came out to him, he was very supportive. I started going over to his house a lot, because of this my mother thought I had a crush on him. She would always bring it up that we should date. My mother had gay friends and was a very supportive parent all around but it’s still very overwhelming coming out to your parents. I was lucky to have supportive parents who loved me no matter what because I know a lot of queer kids do not have that. I was still very nervous of coming out, we ended up going to an amusement park and she kept talking to me about my close friend. While we ate lunch at the park, I told her I had to tell her something important, I then proceeded to cry a lot that I couldn’t speak. She guessed “what is it, are you a lesbian?” I shook my head yes, and she then told me that she loved and will always love me no matter who I love. It was nice to have that kind of love and support from someone. After that, she made sure I was comfortable with myself, she let me cut my hair, she bought me a pride flag, I shopped in the boy’s section for clothes. I felt more confident in myself just by having that love and support and I was happy to be in the LGBTQ community. With having that lack of LGBTQ representation growing up, I am so inspired by shows like ‘Wynonna Earp’ and can’t wait to grow my career in the film industry and add more queer representation that I didn’t have growing up. It is such a positive message to see people on a big screen coming out and being authentically themselves because it shows that everyone is valid, and everyone is beautiful. I think start the wave shows so many positive messages to be kind, and be the best you, you can possibly be.

An Empowered Gay Woman

Coming out, for me, never really ends. I come out to new friends, to family, to coworkers, to the woman at the grocer who asks if I’m cooking for my boyfriend, to the stadium of people watching the “kiss cam” and to the man politely asking for my number at a crowded pub. Coming out is choosing to be honest, every day, and battling the fear of others’ responses.

I used to think that coming out was selfish, as if telling someone that I am attracted to women would only benefit me. It’s taken an immense amount of growth and education to believe in the power that standing together provides. Knowing the strength that I have now, I wish I had had faith in others sooner.

I grew up in a household that did not discuss sexuality in any form. We didn’t talk about relationships, or intimacy, and especially not about sex. Being the only girl, the gender expectations were enough to overwhelm me, let alone the differences I noticed in myself at a young age. My religious views told me homosexuality was a sin, and was best left unspoken.

When my friends began to develop crushes or dream of their perfect futures with a husband on a white ranch with kids and dogs, I failed to share that. I wasn’t sure what my future would hold, but I knew I didn’t want the same things. At 10 years old, I knew something about me was different.

When it came time to start dating, I once again felt no connection to the boys around me. I loved being around my friends, but I felt different from them. That scared the shit out of me. I thought: maybe I just didn’t understand. I had never been in love, never shared myself with someone, never had sex– so how did I know for sure?

And so I began dating my best friend. He made me laugh, was kind and generous, was adored by my family, and truly respected me. We made a great couple, and an even better team. For a while, I could forget my attraction towards women. Everyone was happy, and this life didn’t seem so bad.

My best friend knew me better than that, though. He sat down with me one day and asked if this was what I truly wanted. He said that I didn’t seem fulfilled, that if there was something I was missing in my life, I should go for it. It wasn’t until a year later and a few more attempts at heterosexual relationships that I finally understood.

The process was hard. I couldn’t state my sexuality in the mirror to myself, let alone to other people, and even less so to those who had known me my entire life. I spent hours crying to myself, journalling dreams that wouldn’t come true, and praying that I could be normal.

The problem with that was that I was normal. I am normal. Being queer does not make me abnormal.

I finally told a friend, and her acceptance encouraged more honesty. I needed a calm and quiet place for those closest to me, where I could tell my story and they could ask questions. I slowly began to feel more comfortable in my own skin, and began to rely on the support for this immensely powerful community. A community full of love and trust.

My family’s response is still difficult to handle today. They are scared for me, religiously and socially. I will always love them, but I take comfort in the encouragement I have received from others and hope one day they will share that same support.

Much like the rainbow that symbolizes the queer community, coming out can be an upward battle sometimes. There are times you may be scared shitless, and there are unfortunate times when people do not understand. But, there is growing education and knowledge to be supported and protected. With kindness, and with love, there will come a time when each person can love and be loved for who they are. And much more than there are negative responses, there are amazing and rewarding experiences, too.

Life surprises you.

The love of my life sits beside me, reading, hair a mess and glasses on, curled up under her favorite blanket and music in the background. I can look at her with no doubt in my mind that this is where I am meant to be. The discomfort and unrest that I felt as a child has settled.

I have found a home with a coalition of courageous, charitable, passionate people.

I am a gay woman.

I am out. I am proud. I stand by every human on their journey and hope that it is known how much they are loved.

I suppose my coming out story will never truly end. There will always be someone to tell, a situation that assumes I am straight. But I have faith that kindness prevails, and that each of us can be celebrated for our differences, rather than scared of them.

Each of us deserves love. And I can promise, if you give yourself to this community, they will give themselves to you, too.

Out Truly Is The New In.

I don’t put labels on myself.

Labels make me feel as if you’re putting me into a box to which is yours to stereotype or criticize. I like being free. Being me.

Eleven. That’s when I started to question my sexuality. I wasn’t attracted to boys yet but I found girls so intriguing. I was on a softball team with beautiful girls which made this even worse. I met a girl online that I so hopelessly fell for. I didn’t know that at the time. When I did tell her she ghosted me. Ouch. I decided that it wasn’t real feelings so I pushed it down. Twelve. I found my best friend most attractive than my boyfriend. I didn’t think anything of it. I never thought I was bi or gay. Well I did. I took those “Am I gay” quizzes and chose the obviously straight answers. I was lost. It was really hard to deal with this and hormones. I cried a lot, screamed, pushed the closest people away. I was scared of what they would think of me. A little bit later the girl I was more attracted to than my now ex boyfriend said she thinks she’s bi. I have never been more relived. She reveled that she liked me just as much as I liked her. And three years later and I still call her mine. It was a very long journey to get here. I used to not hold her hand afraid of the looks or whispers. I would cry at night because of that. but now i want to live my life. I want her to be happy and I want to be happy. I put others people’s opinions behind me. Not everyone is going to support it. Her mother. Her mother outed me to my family. I live with my grandmother because my mother died when I was born. My grandma didn’t comprehend when she outed me and still didn’t until the third time her mother decided to out me. My grandma asked me if I liked girls because my mother died. Not the reason why. I hate being different but I am. There is no one I was destined to be other than myself. I am me. I like girls. I know that for sure. I like anyone. That’s me. The messy, crazy, sad, and happy, me.

This is me

I love being happy

I’m going to be with who ever makes me happy

#OutIsTheNewIn

Lesbian/Gay woman

I realised that I was gay at around age 14, I was never interested in all the boy talk my friends seemed to always want to have but until I started becoming unwell I didn’t think too much of it. Unfortunately at the age of 14 I started developing chest infections and viruses, one after the other which eventually caused my body to develop a chronic illness. I was forced to leave school and spent 3 months housebound, which gave me wayyyy too much time to think!

I didn’t want to be different, there was already too many things that made me stand out, I was fat, short, and shy, along with other things and I couldn’t handle anything else on top of that.

Over those months where I was housebound and then only doing a few hours of schooling a day, I started to knock down all the layers of negative self-esteem that had built up through my life. It was the hardest time of my life but now I know that true happiness comes from the little things, that you don’t need a lot of friends, just a select few that bring light into your life.

I’m out to my close family and friends but there’s still some family members I have yet to have the discussion with. When you first come out it is terrifying, not because of someone else’s reaction but because you are opening up your heart and giving them permission to see you, the complete you for the first time. That’s the scary part!

I used to wish and pray that I was straight or at least into boys but that was never meant to be, I am who I was always supposed to be and I wouldn’t want to be anyone else. I still have a lot of insecurities but I’m gonna keep working through them because above it all, I am proud to be a gay woman.

#OutIsTheNewIn

Do things for you, not for the approval or satisfaction of others.

I knew at a young age that I was different. Different as in I wore basketball jerseys of my favorite NBA players when my friends were wearing dresses and makeup. I think I was around 11 years old when I had my first girl crush, I knew from that moment I was gay. At 11 it wasn’t that easy to understand, especially when you’re from a small town in Kentucky..being gay was foreign, disobedient and wrong. I didn’t have the guidance and the acceptance in myself until I was 19 years old to come out to my mother. It was hard, the relationship drifted apart for about 2 years, but she finally came to terms with me and realized that me being a lesbian didn’t change who I was as a person. I’m here to tell you that if you are scared and fearful of disapproval, I understand. You will say what you need to say when you are ready. Please do not forget you are not alone we are all here for you just reach out

~All Love,
Brittany B.

Confused

Hi , I’m a 17 year old girl and I don’t know really what I am or who I like .I guess I haven’t lived a life full of experiences yet and to be honest I’ve never experienced love . But not knowing who I am has caused me to be severely stressed , I feel like I’m holding this constant weight and judgement on my shoulders . I am constantly aware of what the people around me think in regards to what I am watching or reading . It’s so tiring and frustrating . And I feel guilty for not having the same bravery and courage as many others . I am basically unsure as to who i like and I guess what label I should put upon myself . Ive liked boys in the past but I’ve recently starting liking girls . Even now writing that sentence made me feel like I should instantly delete it , exit the tab and move on. I am in this early stage of my life where I’m just not ready or happy enough to tell this truth to myself and the people I am surrounded by.
How can I understand life and all it’s treasures if I can’t even learn to understand myself . I wish i just didn’t give a shit about what anyone else thinks but i think being self critical and utterly indecisive has been woven into genes and I’m just not sure on to break the thread .This is my first time talking about this to anyone and wasn’t really sure as to whether or not post it. But what the hell , let’s start a wave .

Closets Are For Clothes

When I first started to recognize my sexuality, I was thirteen years old. I was at the movies and when the lead actress appeared, there was a rush of desire. For the first time, I understood what all the fuss was about – but I knew I had to keep it a secret. I’d grown up in a small town and I’d never met an openly gay woman, but I knew what people thought of them.

That actress was the first in a long line of crushes. I spent so much time daydreaming about those women, and it felt good and right, but I stopped short of imagining myself with a girl.

I couldn’t be a lesbian. None of the lesbians I’d seen in the media looked, dressed, or acted anything like me. This was during the 90s, and I’d internalized a boat load of homophobia. The articles I sought out in teen magazines reassured me. According to them, a lot of girls had crushes on other girls, but it was a phase they grew out of.

Throughout all of this, I was dating guys. I said yes to anyone who asked me but as soon as I had a boyfriend, I’d do everything I could to distance myself. Being with boys gave me a strange, awful, empty feeling.

Later, there was a lot of guilt to untangle about the way I’d treated these guys. Plus, I had a lot of work to do to unlearn the internalized homophobia that had made me so sure I wasn’t gay in the first place.

I went from lying to myself about it, to accepting that it wasn’t going to change. During that time, I promised myself that nobody would ever find out. Then, slowly, I realized that I couldn’t live a full life without being open. I get that it’s not that way for everyone, but I sensed that it would be like that for me.

I inched out of the closet. First, I told my siblings, then my best friends, one parent and then another, gradually other friends and family. My worst fears never came true, but it wasn’t all positive either. There were reactions that hurt like hell.

That was nearly fifteen years ago, and I’m still coming out. It’s true when people say that it never stops, but it’s not hard anymore.

There was a time when I would have done anything to make it go away. If there was a magic pill that could have made me straight, I probably would have taken it.

The fact that the world makes young people feel that way is tragic. Boil it down to its simplest parts, and people who have a problem with LGBTQ+ people just can’t handle difference. They want everyone to be like them, so they can feel that their way of being is the only correct one. That speaks to a deep insecurity and unhappiness.

I love my life. Being gay is a part of me that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I’ve got a long-term girlfriend, great friends, a job I like. I still get crushes on celebrities, and it would never occur to me to hide it anymore. Hard-won pride is pretty sweet!

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

H. E4L and forever grateful for the Earpers WayHaught

I kind of had an inkling I wasn’t straight back in late 2015. I was really into The 100 and I remember I was unreasonably attached to Lexa and Clarke. It was the first canon LGBT relationship I’d ever seen on TV and for some reason, that meant a lot to me. Then I started watching Wynonna Earp in 2016, because I’d heard about WayHaught and I got really excited that another show might have a canon couple (of course, I got totally hooked on WE within an episode.) And the whole time I’m watching Clexa and WayHaught especially I remember thinking “I wish I had that.” I started seriously thinking about my future and realised that, when I didn’t actively think “I want a husband and kids and etc” if I closed my eyes and tried to picture getting married…it wasn’t always a man. Sometimes, it was a woman I could imagine marrying. And right as I was having that realisation and trying to reconcile it with my religion (Christianity) the whole Lexa thing happened and I got angry. That was one of 2 representations I had to try and figure this out and they just get rid of her?! I decided that I wasn’t going to think about it anymore. I’d kind of figured out I was definitely bi at that point but because of the whole religion thing I decided “hey, at least there’s still a big chance I’ll end up with a guy.”

My nephew was born in the June of 2016 with a serious heart condition and for a decent few weeks, I thought it was God’s punishment. I’d figured out I was bi and God didn’t like that so he punished my family. I was 15 and I didn’t really process things right so I legit thought for weeks that it was my fault. And then I started going online more and I found the Earpers and that whole community made me feel a lot more comfortable. I found people of my faith that weren’t straight and talked to them about everything. And the whole time, I still had WayHaught on Wynonna Earp showing me that girl/girl relationships were alright. Right after the season 1 finale of WE, I told my sister that I thought I was bi. My mum figured it out within a year and told my dad for me. I didn’t officially come out to any of my friends or anyone from my high school until the end of 2019, after I started uni, but most of my close friends kind of figured it out because I stopped fighting it and actively started talking about LGBT stuff.

I was out and proud from my first day at university and that felt so amazing. It was the first time I hadn’t hid my sexuality at all from anyone and that was one of the best experiences of my life. Turned out a decent number of people I started hanging out with, both in lectures and society meetings, were also LGBT+ so for the first time in my life, I had a significant amount of non-hetero friends, one of whom is as big of an Earper as me. I found my people, both on and offline.

Bisexual

i think i finally actually realised i was bisexual last year but i was into girls many years before that but just thought of it as a phase i guess. i actually once said to a friend of mine in school probably about three years ago that i would “mess around for a year or so and then get married properly with a man, just so i could get it out of my system” and when i think back to that it seems so mad to me that that was my mindset and as the years have gone on i see more of a chance of me starting a family with a woman even though i still haven’t came out to my family. my friends all knew but it wasn’t like a big secret because i thought nothing of it in the beginning so i never kept it from them. i’m 18 this year and i haven’t been in a relationship since i was around 14 which was with a boy. i’m scared to come out to my family because although i know they love me endlessly, there is still something in my mind that holds me back. i wish coming out wasn’t such a big thing and although it should be celebrated i also think it shouldn’t be expected. i would like to come home one day and introduce my girlfriend to my family without anyone thinking anything of it.