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I realized I was queer when I was about 12. I told some of my friends about a year after that. I’m still not out to any of my family members yet, but I plan to come out to them on National Coming Out Day (October 11) 2021. Which is also my 15th birthday. I’m starting to be more comfortable with myself and my sexuality. #OutIsTheNewIn
I’ll call myself Emily. That’s not my real name, but that’s what my high school English teacher called me. By hiding my name I do not intend to hide myself. This is my story..
High school seems to be a good place to start. I was always the sporty girl who got along with everyone and who actually liked school. I had a lot of friends and my home life was good. I was always boy crazy, but sports came first. My sophomore year is when it happened first. No not the first lesbian experience, you’ll have to keep reading for that one! The first time I fell in love. He was a skater boy, and he had me. It was a typical first love— wild, free, electrifying. The first time I felt life was bigger than big. We of course had our ups and downs. But man did we love each other. That’s the first time I learned I could care so much for another person. We dated for four years. Which takes us to my sophomore year in college. I was in a sorority, played soccer and still was obsessed with school. I loved everything about being free and learning. Putting myself in uncharted waters gave me self growth. So naturally I traveled a lot. Little did I know I knew NOTHING about self growth. That would come in a few years. I dated around my sophomore and junior year. Nothing too serious. I had just spent four years with some so I wanted to live a little. The guys at my college were so damn handsome and cool. Getting invited to date parties or a long weekend at the lake was great. College did not disappoint. By my senior year I decided to study abroad, because why not? I went to Ireland and had a blast. So much of a blast that it happened again. Love. This one hit me hard too. Irishmen certainly have a way with words. This love was different though. It was mature. I felt safe with him in every way a woman could feel safe: emotionally, financially, physically. He was it. So like any responsible college graduate would do, I bought a one way ticket to Ireland two weeks after graduation. Over the next three years I would continue to fall in love with this man. We’d spend a few weeks every year in America and he fit right in. He bought a ring and asked permission from my parents. I was certain this was it for me. But something happened. He and I grew apart and I was unhappy. I ended up breaking things off and it hurt. Like, really hurt. This man loved me to my bones! And he was a good person. His family became my family. His sisters were mine. I actually spend a week or two with his family every year. He made a joke once to me, “You better not leave me for a girl. That’s what my ex did.” Whoops.
I packed up and moved back to America. Landed an awesome job in a city I had never visited. I thought, hey I can do this. People like me and I’m outgoing. I’ll make friends in no time. Luckily, I did make friends fast. Little did I know these strangers I’d only known for a few months would become my back bone. My pack. They’d celebrate with me, tell me to suck it the fuck up when I was down, and cry with me in the pouring rain behind a dumpster. Anyways, back to the real story. Up to this point, I’d only ever had an eye for guys. I longed for a husband and children. Part of me still does. This is where things get real.
Most of my friends in this new city were gay. I had okayed sports my whole life so it was nothing new to me. At my first pride I met someone. I had actually met her a few weeks ago at a bar but she was too drunk to remember. She walked right up me, wallaby legs and beer in hand and asked if I was married. I told her no, and she just smiled and walked away. The same girl stood before me at pride introducing herself for the first time, again. We were inseparable. At this point I was still denying to anyone that her and I were more than friends, but they didn’t buy it. Within two shorts months it happened again. Love. Remember when I said I thought traveling helped me in self growth? Okay falling in love for the first time with a women is SELF GROWTH. Holy shit. Knocked me sideways. I couldn’t think straight (ha, pun). Her and I were in an off for 3-4 years. I learned a lot about myself and how I was to live my life. Like most of us, ‘coming out’ was unthinkable at first. And I’m not sure I’m fully ‘out’ but this story is still being written. I learned accepting yourself isn’t about fitting it; it’s not becoming what you thought you would be; and it’s certainly not about making anyone proud other than yourself. When you can look in the mirror every morning and say “Life is good. I am good. Let’s make it better today”. That’s self growth for me.
Without my friends here who take me for who I am, I’d probably be in a relationship with a guy having ridiculously lousy sex. And les-be-honest, life is too short to have bad sex. So this is my story, for now. I seek love in all relationships: Love in friendships and love in romantic-ships. I made up that word but I think it should become a thing. I am accepting that I can love and be loved by women and it’s pretty sweet. Maybe I’ll date guys again, maybe I won’t. Love has no gender and certainly isn’t on a set schedule. I am open to myself and am optimistic about the best time IT happens.
Keep shining and know that you are beautiful xx
I found out that I can love girls as well, when I met a young lady named Evelyn in summer 2014. My parents and I were on vacation in Spain and she was the host of a series of beach parties I went to. We never kissed, we barely talked but I was deeply attracted to her. Looking back, I already had a few crushes on girls way before summer 2014. But only then I realized how serious it was. Back in Germany I tried to forget about Evelyn, forget about those feelings and tried to suppress everything. It didn’t work out – of course. The first person I told was my best friend. I honestly don’t remember the conversation we had. But I felt better after. So I told another friend. And another. Everyone was being chill about it. One of my friends suggested that it might be a phase. I know she wanted to calm me down but the minute she said it, I knew that it wasn’t a phase. I knew that this was indeed my truest self. It still needed a lot of time to accept that though. I told my mother more or less “by accident”. We listened to some music until a song came on that reminded me of Evelyn. I started crying and my mother tried to figure out what was going on. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her. She started crying too because she was worried about me and after what felt like ages, I whispered that I might be into girls as well. Then she started crying even more because on one hand, she was relieved that it was “just that” and on the other hand, it caused her so much pain to see me in such a bad state. The next day we told my dad together. It came unexpected for him and he didn’t react in an emotional way but now I know that he was actually so emotional, that he tried to hide it from me. He wasn’t emotional because he didn’t want me to be gay but because he knew the troubled path I had in front of me. I still don’t know why it took me so long to truly accept who I am. My parents were full on supporting me. The more friends I told, the more acceptance I felt. Still – in 2016 I became depressive and had to go to therapy. It helped me a lot. The same year I went to my first Christopher Street Day. I also graduated school and started studying at university in another city. I worked hard and saw myself getting more comfortable with telling people the older I got. To this day I’ve never experienced a bad reaction from anyone. In summer 2018 I finally found the courage to tell the rest of my family. It’s truly one of my favourite memories of all time, because it was very heart-warming and I not often felt this loved as I did in those moments. A huge struggle for me was to find out as what exactly I’m identifying. I’m still not a hundred percent sure but I don’t blame myself for it anymore. Right now, I identify as pansexual, just because I think it’s the label that leaves the most doors open. Not long ago in the beginning of 2020 I had to deal with my sexuality again, since I’m studying to become a teacher in religious education (amongst other things) and church and not-heterosexuality obviously aren’t best friends. I found a way to connect my faith and my sexuality though and I want to encourage everyone to always take the chance to rethink your relationship with your sexuality. I think it’s a lifetime process and yes, it’s hard, it’s exhausting and sometimes it’s just not fair. But trust me, after every conflict, after every crisis and after every struggle, you’ll start falling in love with yourself more and more. Although there are still times where I’m insecure, I now also feel insanely PROUD to be who I am. Just imagine how boring life would be, if we weren’t part of the rainbow. Maybe we have to walk the bumpy path but at least there are thousands of bright colours around us. I’d take that over the easy but grey path every time. Be patient and be gentle. WE’RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER.
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.
I think I was 14 when I realised that I was gay. I was watching “Dr House” and there was a kissing scene between two women. At that time I didn’t understand why I was so obsessed with it. I thought about it all the time. And then a few weeks later I discovered a TV show all about gay women. And then it clicked. The thing is at that time there were no representation at all. Of course I knew lesbian existed, but I didn’t know it could be me. It took me a few months to fully accept it, that I was that person. A year later, the day that I started to go out with my first girlfriend, I came out to my parents. I didn’t want to lie to them, it was important to me to be true to myself and to my family. I believe that I am very lucky because I came from a open minded, loving family so it was a relief to come out. I wish that every coming out story would be as peaceful and happy as mine. Love is love. And love is beautiful.
I started by telling my twin and it turned out she was pansexual as well which was a funny coincidence. My family was open and accepting which was really fantastic. When I realized I was pan when I was about 11 and came out when I was 12. I knew that I wanted to create a place where other people could feel safe and accepted because I realized not everyone had that. My friends and I teamed up with guidance conselors and had endless meetings with the principle and other administrators to create a GAS in the school. We were successful and now 2 year later we still have that club running even after we left. I knew that I would be accepted when I came out and I just wanted to make sure that that kind of feeling was felt by the other LGBTQ+ kids in my school that felt alienated
Coming from a household we’re you’re put into boxes from a young age I struggled discovering who I was. I was either straight or gay there was no in between as my mother put it so kindly. My parents are the kind of parents that don’t mind gay people but as my mom and dad explained “it’s different when it’s your own kid”. Things like that are very hard to hear especially growing up being all confused as it is. I finally discovered that I was into boys and girls around the age of 16, but was still ashamed to say it out loud due to the idea that had been planted in my head as a child. Eventually it started eating at me and I went to a party and told my friends crying on the kitchen floor in my best friends arms. I had never felt support like it. I didn’t expect them to react like that. The next stage was my sister who I was pretty nervous to tell as we’d obviously grown up with the same parents so who knows what she would think about it all. I eventually plucked up the courage and told her, crying again – it seems to be a theme, and the outcome was pretty surreal. She told me she loved me no matter what, to not worry about mom and dad and that WE would handle it together. That made me feel a lot more confident and sure about myself. Next step is the parents. I don’t know when or how they will react but fingers crossed 🙂
I probably first realised that I was queer when I was about twelve years old but I wasn’t quite aware of it. I was just aware of the fact that I felt different. Then when I was around 14 I met some people who really changed my life and I think they honestly saved my life. They helped me realise myself not by doing anything specific but by just being themselves and embracing me. They helped me be open even when I was so scared. I went to my first ever pride (Exmouth pride in Devon) with them and I was so utterly scared that someone I knew from outside that group of friends might see me but they helped me to enjoy myself and it’ll always be such a treasured memory of mine. The first person I came out to that wasn’t also part of the lgbt+ community was one of my best mates when we were 16 and I can say that it thankfully went unbelievably well. Since then I’ve come out to a lot more people then I ever thought I would at this point in my life. It’s thanks to such incredible representation in the media such as wayhaught that have helped me come to terms with who I am and I can finally feel comfortable with who I am and who I love. It’s a process and I’m still learning, about myself as I tell more and more people. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t be heading to university feeling happy and content if it weren’t for people like you Dominique Who have such courage to stand up and be themselves so to you and everyone in the lgbt+ community I say thank you and to those still struggling, it gets better I promise, so much better.
Hello everyone and thank you to Start the Wave for this wonderful initiative of testimonies. I wish to write this part of my journey in French by will of plurilingualism and to keep the soul of the content that I share with you today. I hope that this will be welcomed and accepted, and I thank you warmly in advance.
Discovering myself as a lesbian in the 2000s in Switzerland was not easy for me. I realized that I was different from others when I was 11-12 years old. I was insecure, lonely and isolated, and I didn’t understand why I wasn’t happy and full of life like everyone else my age. Something was wrong with me and it was impossible for me to fit in and feel comfortable with others because of the role I had to play to meet the social expectations of people my age at that time.
The realization of my homosexuality came one day when I decided not to go to school and pretend to be sick. That day, I finally understood the reasons for my discomfort. That moment was a real mental slap in the face. I didn’t expect it at all. I was watching television and came across a movie about a love story between two teenage girls. This movie shook me up, not because of the story, but because of what it awakened and enlightened in me. It made me realize that I was gay, that it was because of that that I felt so bad. Unfortunately for me at that time, I could not accept it and so I repressed these thoughts and desires deep inside me, which led me to isolate myself even more. It was impossible for me to accept that I was different. So I stayed that way for a few more years until I decided to become interested in the LBGTQ2IA+ world, but I didn’t dare to join it. Not having any “real” role models in my life, I had to discover this world in a virtual way, through series (thanks Buffy), movies and websites. This helped me, but not enough because I had no one to talk to, no one who could listen to me and accept my discomfort by making me understand that what I was going through was indeed complicated and difficult, but that it was perfectly normal, that I was perfectly normal. It is with time, patience and love towards myself that I finally managed to accept my difference.
It took me more than 10 years and several relationships to accept that being different is an absolutely wonderful thing. My coming-out happened slowly, in a discreet way, with the people who were dear to me at the time. However, it was at the age of 30 that I finally dared to say who I was and who I loved. I finally succeeded in sharing my difference, without any discomfort or uneasiness coming near me. My definition of myself became normal. I became proud and free.
It is thanks to the difficulties I experienced as a teenager that I was able to build myself and be who I am today. The difference is a sign of diversity, multiplicity and richness. It is the difference that makes the world so magical, so surprising and wonderful. Let us be different and assume our differences.
I am human and I love every living being on this Earth. Joy and happiness radiate from me every time I realize how lucky I am to share my short existence with such inspiring, grateful and living beings. Thank you to each of them for pushing me to be more myself, in coherence with my convictions and values and thank you to you for helping me to accept and respect others. Be yourself and love yourself. Thank you to Start the Wave for this wonderful project of liberation. Thank you to the Universe.
For me, realizing that I was a lesbian was probably the easiest part of my identity. I was in 8th grade and came out to my school in a research paper I had written on gender-neutral bathrooms (as one does).
This year, as an 18 year old student nurse, I felt that something about me was wrong.
I began to question whether or not I was a lesbian. I have always had moments where I thought that maybe I just hadn’t found the right guy yet. Eventually, I’d realize that was comphet and that I was very much a lesbian.
This summer, it hit me. It wasn’t the term “lesbian” that made me uncomfy. It was the term “girl”.
I think it would be fair to say that I spent well over 24 hours just scrolling through blog posts, coming out videos, twitter profiles, etc., all with one common topic: Non-binary.
I struggled for a long time trying to accept the fact that I was non-binary. I had always felt a close relationship with my womanhood and female empowerment. But some days, I feel very disconnected from it all.
Realizing that I was, in fact, non-binary was the easier step of my gender exploration.
I cannot tell you how many times I opened my social media accounts to change my pronouns from “she/her” to “she/they”. The tight squeeze I would feel in my throat always prevented me from solidifying that. I had many fears. Can I still identify as a lesbian? I still feel like a girl most days, am I non-binary? What if I change my pronouns back later on and people think I’m a fraud?
Reading it now, I’m giggling to myself at how silly my concerns were. Eventually, I gathered the nerve to come out to my friends, who received it very very well. I have yet to tell my family and, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I ever will. It is a part of my identity that I like to keep to myself. To my friends. I don’t feel so strongly about having to tell my family because I’m still the same person I was before I changed my pronouns. Sure, I’ll tell them if they ask why my pronouns say “she/they”. But I don’t feel that I have to make it well-known that I’m enby. And that’s okay!
So, the point of sharing this crazy story? To remind any of you that you are not alone. Sexuality is fluid. Gender is fluid. Identity is fluid. Feel free to experiment, to change, to find who you really are. Because once you find that part of yourself that just feels so right, everything around you begins to fall into place.
I’m Reagan. I’m 18 years old, and I am a non-binary lesbian.
