Community Rainbow Waves

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

Lesbian

I first knew I wasn’t the ‘same’ as everyone else when at the ripe age of 5 I asked my mum if she had ever gone out with girls as well as boys. She said no and I was slightly confused because I knew as a girl I should be attracted to boys but I wasn’t. I first came out to friends as bisexual at 12 and most of them didn’t mind but I faced a lot of weird comments and lost a lot of friends as I came from a very small area of Scotland that’s full of close minded individuals. I was dating a boy at 13 and we went out for almost a year and a half. I also told him that I was bisexual and he didn’t care at first. But he started to take advantage of this fact and told me that if I wanted I could experiment with girls only if he could join in etc etc, it was unhealthy. I left the relationship but have met more people like him that when they hear I’m LGBT+ instantly become creepy, try to take advantage, think they are able to say vulgar things and verbally abuse you when you turn down sexual advances, a real issue not many people speak about in the community. It was only a little under a year ago I came to the realisation I wasn’t at all bisexual and rather was in fact lesbian. Having to re-come out to people I’d already told I was bisexual was an odd experience, gladly no one bat an eye and everything’s been normal. I’ve not yet come out to family as I’m unsure of their perspectives and in the house I’m living in don’t feel safe to do so yet. I have moved out (although am back home due to lockdown and covid-19) and am currently attending university in a different region, everyone I’ve met I have been confident enough to tell them who I am and that I like girls and everyone’s been supportive. Coming to terms with who I am has been and will be a journey that I am constantly learning from. From having no representation ahead of me on TV, or knowing anyone who was part of the LGBT+ community for almost 16-17 years of my life was lonely and isolating. Today I’m surrounded by people who are just like me and support me, I’ve found representation in the media and I’ve learned to love and accept myself. The next chapter of this part of my life is hoping my family will do the same.

I’m a small lesbean (lesbian)

ellow I’m Kai >3< and my pronouns are she/her 0w0. This is my coming out story, I wrote it at the time. I just wanted to say this joke before I forget it, I came out in the year of twenty gay teen. On Tuesday the 16th October 2018. I came out as gay to my mum. Earlier that day my mum asked if I wanted to go on a walk with her. I agreed, and I got ready. That’s when I decided to come out to her. The whole time I was dreading the moment before I told her. When I had enough courage to say what I wanted to say. Her only response was “I could already tell”. So, she already knew that I was gay. Then I came out to my soulmate, she was really the first to know, but I told her I was bisexual instead of being gay. I then told my best friend. My mum told my older sister on the 17th of October 2018. My mum also told my dad today which is the 18th. I found out that she told my dad because he mentioned my sexuality. Which at first, I was really confused on what he was talking about, until I realised that he was talking about my sexuality, that I’m gay. Everyone has been so supportive with my Decision . I don’t know if my brother knows yet, but if he doesn’t then he is the only one who doesn’t know.

My journey: From then to now

My journey started young, but took quite a while to get where I am now.

I was 8 years old when I had my first indication. Now at the time I had no idea what it meant. I was on a little league softball team with all girls. There was this one girl whom I absolutely adored. She was older than me and took to me like a younger sister. I loved all the attention. I didn’t really understand at the time, but I remember the feeling. I wanted her to hang out with me, hug me, play with me, and no one else. I would get insanely jealous and do crazier and crazier things just to get and keep her attention. Because when it was on me, I was so happy and warm, and felt like the most special person in the world. At the time, and years looking back, I believed this just to be normal. I just really wanted to be her friend. After that season we drifted, she was older after all and moved on to middle school and I stayed in elementary.

Then when it was my turn to move to middle school, I got a new neighbor. She was exactly my age, only three months younger, so we would both be going to school together. I hated her at first, honestly I’m not sure why, she did nothing. But that hate eventually turned to a strong, strong like. And, since she lived right next door and we were in the same grade, naturally we did everything together. We basically lived at each other’s houses. We were completely inseparable and spent every waking moment together. We became close. We used to cuddle and hold hands, kiss each other on the cheek, hold each other as we cried. Without knowing it, she had become my everything. I didn’t realize most of the things we did were not just friendly things. Not until I turned 12 and came across a show called South of Nowhere. It featured two female leads who fell in love with one another. It was like something clicked inside me, and a piece of me was revealed. I didn’t admit it to myself, but deep down I knew.

With being so young I turned to my mom. I explained everything to her, and I remember she was polite but didn’t understand. She asked me why I felt this way, why that show, with the girl couple, made me think I was that way. I told her it was easy.

Now being young I couldn’t articulate that I didn’t really mean easy; I meant that everything had just fallen into place. I remember she told me it was just a show, scripted, and that life was never that easy, and that if I was into girls it would only make it harder.

I turned to my best friend next. Told her of what I’d discovered and how I felt. She seemed shocked but curious. We stayed close for a few weeks until one day she kissed me. I had read in books how your heart accelerates and you breath catches in you throat. I had thought that was just fiction, but in that moment I felt everything. It felt like fireworks and everything everyone had always said. But then she pulled back, told me that it was a mistake, and ran off.

I didn’t see her for weeks. I was completely heart broken. I tried to talk to her, to get her to even just look at me in class or on the bus, but she didn’t. Finally she came to me with an ultimatum. She was straight and could not be friends with me if I felt the way I did, if I was the way I was. So I told her I made a mistake, that I wasn’t any different from her. I just got caught up in the show, thought it was cool. We stayed friends after that but not nearly as close. And we drifted away in high school.

I had pushed that revelation so far down in my mind that I didn’t think about it. I still had feelings of course. I would see a pretty girl and get this urge to talk to her, to make her like me and be friends. But I always told myself it was just because I wanted a new best friend. Or i wanted to be like her, look like her, that’s why I found her so pretty, so interesting.

I faked crushes on boys and had fake boyfriends. But we never went further than making out and even then it was gross and uncomfortable. But I thought that’s just how it was.

Then finally I went off to college. I discovered this YouTube channel on a fluke, of two women happily married. I watched every single video on that channel. I took “am i gay quizzes” and did so much research you’d think I had a paper to write. Finally after years and years of pushing down who I really was, I decided to try accepting it. All of my research led me to realize what I was feeling wasn’t bad or abnormal. Others were out there with the same experiences. So I started to accept it.

A year later I officially came out to my mom. It took me almost 10 minutes just to utter the words. “Lesbian” stuck in my throat like a brick. I’d never said it aloud before. I cried so hard after just saying it, it was so freeing and felt so good. My mom was pretty accepting which I was thankful for.

I came out to my new best friend who said she really wasn’t surprised and was extremely proud of me.

Next was my dad, he wasn’t as accepting, didn’t understand. But eventually he came around. A few years after I told him he amended one of his statements about my future husband to maybe future wife and I cried.

My sister was a bit funnier. I told her at lunch and she did a spit take. Told me she should have known by my giant pause beforehand. But she had gay friends and was very supportive also.

I was so incredibly lucky that my family was supportive. I was so lucky that they still loved me and accepted me for who I was.

I still have days where everything seems impossible. Where I’m so frustrated at the world for not accepting my community or being cruel to them. But then I have days where I see happiness and love. Where I remember how far we’ve come, how far I’ve come, and I’m so incredibly proud.

Now, at 23, I’ve just come to realized that maybe I’m not so monogamous. That made the term polyamorous also suits me quite well.

I haven’t said this part aloud yet, or told anyone. So if you’re reading this, surprise, it’s my second coming out. I just might be a polyamorous lesbian.

Either way, I’m so glad to be apart of this community. And although I may not have it all figured out, that’s alright. We are constantly evolving and changing.

And I know that either way, whatever happens or whatever way I choose to identify: everything will be okay.

My chest comes out

I knew from a very young age that I liked girls, and the truth was something that terrified me.
Luckily I have had some very nice friends who have given me their support, my family has no problems with LGBTIQ+ people, but I haven’t come out of the wardrobe either because I don’t feel it’s the right time to do so.

The problem has never been what I like, but how I feel.

I have memories of when I was a child and I never felt attached to the things that were supposed to be for my sex, I just didn’t feel comfortable being what a woman is supposed to be. So when I started to notice my chest growing, I just started to shut down.

My first boyfriend was FTM, hearing him talk about how he felt was comfortable for me, I even thought “Maybe I’m like that too, maybe I’m a guy” but after going around and around that idea I realized that no, my only problem has always been my breast.

But it’s just in these times of quarantine that I’ve had the most time to question what I want to be, or rather, who I am.

My identity problem has made me move away from my friends, simply because I don’t want to bring them into this subject, and not knowing what’s happening to me, it’s not easy for me to talk about it, nor do I feel that I should bring them into my internal struggle.

So writing this here, which I am sure and confident is a free space, is comforting and even liberating.

I just keep swimming and losing myself in my thoughts, trying to discover and learn more about myself, hoping that I am not the only person with this kind of “dysphoria”.
Maybe I just have to be me and ignore it, appreciate what I have and love myself as I am, it’s hard, but I can’t sink.

On my way, hoping to get there soon… kd

I guess I always knew way back when I was a kid, but I had no idea what it was and why I felt that way. I just wasn’t what was deemed “normal”. I started acknowledging it for myself as I was going through adolescence and all throughout college and then sort of embraced it after graduation. But to be honest, I still don’t feel safe or free – as I wish I could be – to declare my truth. To some I am able to tell them, while to most I keep quiet… either way, I am never without fear of being rejected or seen differently, like I become a different person from the one they’ve come to know as soon as I confirm what they probably already thought. I still fear that I will never be taken seriously professionally or deserving of the same respect as a person just because of who I am. I am still afraid but I am also hopeful that one day, I’d get there – where I am free to just be me and no longer afraid.

I’m a woman who’s proud to love other women

My coming-out story is a loooong journey. I first faced my homosexuality when I was 18. I’d left my family-nest to pursue my studies, and it really was the first time I was left alone with myself. It became a journey, during which I discovered myself entirely.
And I met that one girl. She was gay, and I completely fell for her. That moment was the starting point of a really long thinking about my sexuality and myself in general. Each step was full of sadness and pain … but also full of joy. It took me 6 months to tell my closest friends about being in love with a woman. More than a year to completely accept and embrace my homosexuality.
But the hardest part was telling my family. I’m really close to them, we share everything and love each other so fucking much. Taking the risk to lose all of this by telling them my truth, it was unimaginable for me. So I kept it inside of me for 4 (very long) years. The thing is, I was exhausted. Exhausted of lying to the ones I love, of hiding my feelings and a huge part of my life.
That is why, on January 1st 2019, I confessed to my family about my homosexuality. And, damn it, all the feedbacks I received were full of love and acceptance. I was scared of crying because they would reject me. Instead, I cried only tears of joy because they accepted me. Whole of me.
Nowadays, I’m a very happy 24 years-old gay AF woman.
M.
From France.

I’m pretty sure i am Lesbian

I also even don’t know when and how. But as i know, when i was 10 years old, i feel awkward and feel something when i saw pretty girls. And i started dating girl when i was 13 years old. But i don’t even know what kind of relationship is that. Maybe because i was born in the country is strictly illegal LGBTQ, make me don’t even know if there’s any relationship kind of that. Everything change after i was in university. I did a little bit research about girl into girl then i know there have kind of that relationship. Eventhough, i still pretended and being closed lesbian until now. Now I’m 30 years old. Only certain friends knows who i am. Mostly 80% including my family never know that i love girl. Because of this, i plan to move to another country. Which is country can accept same-sex relationship. Oh forgot to mention, i have girlfriend and I’m happy with her. Pray for us so that we can living together in happy life same as other peoples. I wish i can be more open with my sexuality after i can move soon.

Learning not to Fight Myself

A lot of people seem to know that they are “different” from an early age.

I never did. Or I didn’t for years anyway.

I had so many other things I was worried about. Whether it was switching schools again, taking care of my siblings that were significantly younger than me, or just trying to settle in to another new place, boys always seemed unimportant, so the fact that I wasn’t interested in them obviously just wasn’t a big deal. “I’m busy,” I told myself. “I need to make friends, get good grades, go off to college, then I’ll have time for that.”

But I was enamored with my girl friends, here and there. They were dynamic, intelligent, powerful, beautiful, captivating. I wanted to understand them, to do things for them, to make them feel like they were seen and they mattered. I would skip out on homework to text them, crawl out onto the roof at night when I was supposed to be in bed to have long phone conversations about our hopes and dreams and fears and insecurities. I would give up sleep to hear more about the complexities that come out of a person in the dark. I resented the boys that made them feel worthless or annoying or not good enough, because how could they be so blind?

When I first figured out that dating girls was a thing that you could do, I was 15. My first thought was, “Oh no. That. I want to do that.”

I made my way through my sophomore year in a blur, for the first time fully aware of a crush while it was happening. I went to prom with a nice boy from my friend group and hid in the bathroom because I couldn’t bring myself to dance with him. I knew I was staring at a friend who would never look at me that way, and I knew I had something to confront.

In the middle of all of it, my parents sold my childhood home and announced that we would be moving from our tiny Midwestern town to a suburb of Denver. I muddled through the year, researching by consuming every piece of lesbian representation that I could find and then promptly deleting my search history. Until the day that I didn’t. Until the day my parents sat me down as asked me about it. And I told them. And they asked if I was trying to get back at them for making me move. And we decided a few months later that I would go back home to finish high school, but tell no one because it would make things too hard. Make people too uncomfortable.

I truly, publicly, came out a month after I graduated. The day that marriage equality became the law of the land in the United States, June 26th 2015, I wrote a long, thoughtful Facebook post for anyone apart from my friends and family I’d already told. My mom called me to tell me that I should have asked her first, because she was having a hard week because it was her 40th birthday. That I should have asked before I celebrated because she didn’t want to deal with questions form the family. That I could still live a life of celibacy with God.

That was the first time that I felt the fierce protectiveness for my community, for myself, for my own worth, swirl and solidify in my chest. The first time that I really recognized that I didn’t need to be my own worst enemy because the world would take care of that. I had plenty to fight. I didn’t need to fight myself. Most importantly, I was strong enough to put myself in front of anyone that wasn’t there yet, and that that’s what this community does. We defend each other. We help each other. We love each other.

Since then we’ve seen the Pulse shooting. We’ve seen half a dozen years of Pride. We’ve seen job discrimination outlawed. I’ve fallen in and out of love and back into it again. I’ve met spectacular women and men and non-binary and agender folks that have taught me the beauty of the spectrum of human expressions of gender and sexuality and love. It’s made me a better person. I’m more understanding, more empathetic, more open. I wouldn’t trade this community, or this experience of myself for anything.

Bisexual

I knew I was attracted to the same sex since my early teens, I am 32 very soon my sister has ways known and she is so supportive and amazing about it, I came out to my close friends a few years ago, but recently came out to my co-workers and my other friends, I was in a long-term relationship with a guy and I have now ready to explore new horizons and enjoy my sexuality, I have recently joined the local LGBTQ community and I happy that I have new friends from this too. I am happy and feel like I can be myself and I feel like weight has been lifted off my shoulders now I’m out, everyone took it all very well and is very accepting of my being part of the LGBTQ community. Moving on and being accepted into the LGBTQ community and making new friends has made me a happier person and a new lease of life and opened doors for me I thought I wouldn’t have thought I would never had opened. I am super proud of myself being part of this new community I am now a part of.

And to quote Dom:
Out is the new IN

So proud of you Dominique

Sending my love

Saira