Community Rainbow Waves

Good Afternoon from the tip of South Africa, Cape Town

My name is Melissa. I am a 36-year-old woman and have always been lesbian. My story is slightly different to many of the stories I’ve read on this site and would like to represent the LGBTQ stories that closely represent mine; my reason – I have not yet come across a story reflecting my journey.

My sexual orientation was very clear to me at the age of 5. It wasn’t a case of ‘i knew’, in fact, I had no idea that homosexuality was a term nor that it was deemed unacceptable in many worldly societies. I was simply being me. It was perhaps later when a fellow classmate mouthed a question to me; “What, are you lesbian?” that I realised, ah! people aren’t okay with this. It was not about the words she used but the tone and body language she used to express her disdain. I never hid my sexual orientation; I was far too confident of that. I was so confident that I had prepared myself mentally that when the day came that, I would inform my family and friends, I was ready to leave them behind because I was not willing to sacrifice a part of me for the sake of protecting the dignity and pride of others. At 16, I came out. At 18 I came out to the entire high school and not one person cared that I had nor were phased by the big step; I like to believe it is because I was confident and so in touch with myself that I would not allow the world to convince me that being me was actually wrong. Perhaps they felt that energy, perhaps they respected it or perhaps they really just didn’t care that I am attracted to women – I’ll never know. What I did learn was, always choose you first and support that strongly; there is only one you and for those that do not serve you well, walk away. Speak about your sexual orientation with normality; we attract what we reflect about ourselves to others – everything in life is a mirror.

Just as Me, myself and I !

So I pretty much knew I was gay from a very young age. I have always been attracted to women. But as most people I just hid how I felt and had a few boyfriends. I just kept it in for so long and always felt alone and I just wanted too scream some days ” I’m Queer” .. but was always too scared to say anything to my family or friends. Just one day I couldn’t cope any more I didn’t want too be in the relationship I was in and I just cried most nights, I was so confused and scared. So I just braved it up and got my Mum, Sister and Brother together and told them I was GAY !. My Sister and Brother were awesome and just said we kinda knew really. My Mum not so much or my Dad actually.. They both disowned me, wanted to get me help .. I moved out of home and didn’t speak to them for years, not that I did want too, they just couldn’t deal with the fact I was gay. My friends on the other hand were fantastic, so supportive.. The ting is as much as it broke my heart about my Mum and Dad, I just felt so liberated and best of all FREE to be me just ME ! And that was the game changer in my life. I would always advise people to come out as your people around you that love you will always support you. Holding in who you are is the WORST! . I’m there for anyone that wants to come out as I know how scary and hard it is. Be yourself and as Dom said you will SHINE !!!

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.

Morgan, she/they

TW//Homophobic slur. I guess I started questioning myself around 8th grade. All throughout middle school I had boyfriends and I was happy with that. But in 8th I was dating this guy, Alex, and we couldnt drive so his older sister (I was 13, he 14 and his sister 15) drove us when we wanted to go out. I started talking to her more and more cause she’d drive me home and such, and I remember I really wanted to be her friend. And I remember one day Alex came to school in a bad mood and I asked him what was wrong and he said, “My sisters a fag” really nonchalantly. And I grew up in a religious house and a conservative town so that wasnt really a thing you could be, but I still knew he wasnt suppose to say that word. I yelled at him and he just walked away and he didnt mention it again. I was really confused after finding that out because me and his sister had a lot in common (didnt wants kids/ husband, wanted tattoos/piercing and into art). It honestly scared me because my parents made their negative views on gay people very clear. So flash forward a few months: I just choose not to think about because I liked being with Alex so I must be straight. I got in trouble at school (buying alcohol) and got suspended. I had the choice to either go to rehab for my ‘addiction’ (not an addiction only had it a few times) or a psych ward (for depression or my eating disorder). I figured to go to inpainet rather than rehab. Once their I met alot of people and we went around saying our names and pronouns. I was so confused I didnt even know it was a thing to change your pronouns. But my roomate Liz was bi. One day we had a group counseling sessions and she was talking about how her parents didnt accept her and what not. Later it was bedtime and we were still both awake and I asked how she knew she was bi. She said she knew because she got butterflys in her stomach when she held a girls hand and she always admired girls looks and wanted to be their friend. I though ‘oh’ and thats kinda how I realized it. After a week I went into outpaient for a little under a month and then returned to school. I broke up with Alex after I got back, and told my best friend that I thought i was bi. She gave me a hug and told me that i’d love Greys Anatomy then. It scared the shit out of me to tell her but I knew she wouldnt care. But flash forward once more to now, im a sophmore that idenifies as bi with a girlfriend that i love. Im only out to people really close to me and havent told my family. I no longer talk to Alex but still talk with his sister (who actually turned me into veganism) and my best friend is still along side me (who was right, i loved Greys Anatomy).

Allison

As a queer woman, I have many coming out stories. The fumbling time I came out to my parents in a pharmacy parking lot, the time I drunkenly sobbed it to my best friend at a bar while an 80s cover band performed Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me” in the background, the multiple times I came out to myself.

I first realized I might not be totally straight when I was in college. Sure, I had been attracted to other girls before, but I marked it up to general admiration. Everyone had thoughts like this, right? It was during my junior year in 2009 that I noticed a girl waiting in the corridor for our class to begin. There was nothing ordinarily special about her, but the way she carried herself captivated me. So, I kept an eye out for that girl, thinking maybe I wanted to be friends with her. She was sporting a baseball cap with the horrible baseball team I cheer for. That’s enough to want to be friends, right? The semesters changed and I didn’t give much thought to the mysterious girl whom I never ended up talking to; though I continued to work my part-time job at a queer owned deli, telling myself I was just an enthusiastic ally.

As fate would have it, who walked into my senior thesis course the following semester? Why, none other than baseball cap girl! Since there were only six of us in the class, we all got familiar, and for the sake of anonymity, let’s name her Kate. Kate and I became fast friends and the need to be near her became too much to ignore. It was like my true self was festering under the surface, but all the years of my small town, conservative upbringing made me scared of what the outcome would be if I let this part of myself out.

In coming to terms with my sexuality, I did what I always do when I don’t know an answer: RESEARCH. I scoured the internet for any helpful articles, I even got books from the library on human sexuality. I searched for representation in the media to little avail. I wanted to find stories like these, from real people who knew the struggle of accepting yourself. I was lost and confused but finally said the words “I’m gay” to myself, out loud.

Meeting Kate was a “click” moment for me. She was the one who turned the light on in corners of my brain and heart that I was trying to suppress. She came into my life abruptly, threw me for a loop and for that, I am forever in her debt. Though the story between the two of us is a phantom for another day, I will always be thankful to this woman and cherish my memories with her because she helped me see my true self.

Personally, I have never been a fan of labels. I don’t like to be put in a box when there are so many little things that make every one of us unique. I never really referred to myself as a lesbian, but that is what most people I know decided to categorize me under. Again, I don’t care for labels, so I never really minded. Then, a few months ago, I was cleaning up at the bar I work at with a coworker. We were having a pint while sweeping the floors when we started a candid conversation about the queer community. He is an open-minded straight cisgender man, so I honestly answered any of his queries to the best of my ability. It was in this conversation with a friend, that I came out once more, but this time as queer. I told him that though I usually prefer women, I would never close myself off to the opportunity of being with someone based on their gender.

So, in closing, much like the world around us, we are never done evolving. You are allowed to be a work in progress. You are allowed to readjust your labels. You are allowed to unapologetically be who you are, because who you are is beautiful and more than enough. No matter how you identify, you are deserving of all the fucking love in the world. <3 AM

Life’s a lot of fun if you look on the bright side.

Hi, my name is Amélie but my friends call me Waméliz (don’t try to understand).
I’m 18 years old.
And sorry if my English is disastrous because I’m French.
Anyway, since primary school my thing has always been to hang out with boys, to play at fights, to dress up as a pirate for fancy dress birthday parties, to hate dresses, tights, ballerinas etc…
For a long time I was regularly at my grandparents’ house.
And like all self-respecting old people, I had the right to a classical education: a girl doesn’t dress like a boy, two girls kissing “my gods what a horror” and the racist thought…
As a child I didn’t understand all that.
I just wanted to put on jeans and a T-shirt and go have fun with my friends.

As time went by, I started to feminize myself more and more, imitating other girls my age, having boyfriends and hanging out with girls only.

It wasn’t until I was in 9th grade that I realized that I liked girls.
There was a new girl in our class, at the time I didn’t pay too much attention to her.
But one day she had a lot of trouble carrying her bag because as she was handicapped sometimes her knee joints got blocked.

So I helped her carry her bag home, and I continued to help her like this every night after school.
She was very much on my mind and I loved spending time with her.
In college, being gay wasn’t very well accepted, even though harassment had gotten under my skin, so when I imagined coming out, I didn’t want to take any chances.
So I decided to keep my thoughts to myself (something that should never be done, it seems).
But I did tell my loved ones about it.
Starting with my mother, I told her about this girl with whom I shared the road every night.
To tell her in the final sentence “I think I am in love with her”.
And my mother replied, “I thought so, my daughter”.
Yes, well, there are better things, but at least it went well.
Then it was my father’s turn, as there is not much communication with him, I wanted to tell him quickly.
That is to say, just before he went to sleep, “Good night daddy, and I also wanted to tell you that I am in love with a girl”.

Might as well tell you that he didn’t have a very good night, the next day he told me that I didn’t have sex with a boy I couldn’t know who I really loved, I asked him if he had slept with boys to find out if he really loved my mother but he took it the wrong way and ended the conversation.

Months went by and I decided to tell the girl how I felt.
To make a long story short, she told me she didn’t feel the same way and stopped seeing each other (no my life is not a TV show), so what can I say except unicorn poop?
When I arrived in high school, that’s when I could fully assume who I am, a PANSEXUAL girl who wants to be friends with everyone and who loves people big, small, white, black, yellow, green, multicolored etc…
My last two coming-out dates were this year.
One to my friends who took it very well except for one who asked me if I ever fell in love with an animal and I said “yes of course be careful with your dog the next time I come to your place”.

And the last one to my grandmother, she must have had at least three heart attacks but she finally accepted it.

I’m proud to be part of the LGBTQ2SZETRWU community… there you go.

A series of moments

I don’t remember the first time I figured out I was not straight.

I only remember a series of moments along the way.

I remember playing the Sims on my Dad’s computer and having my Sim adopt a daughter on her own and keep a close female best friend around. She had a beautiful garden and a swimming pool.

I remember being obsessed with some girls in primary and middle schools. Girls who were pretty and intelligent and popular. Girls whose blogs I could recite by heart. Girls I would have on the phone to ask them what colour their bedroom wallpaper was.

I remember being obsessed with Naomi and Emily when I began watching Skins in high school. Watching and rewatching their episodes and never being able to put my finger on what it was that I could relate to.

I remember my second trip to England, being in my exchange partner’s bedroom at night and reading her diary entry about having a crush on a girl.

I remember watching Brittany and Santana in the first seasons of Glee and being confused by their definition of friendship.

I remember noticing girls in my high school. The way they dressed. The way they talked. But I also remember noticing boys in my high school. And having crushes. A lot of them. I remember hugging him in the cafeteria and feeling like my heart would explode out of joy. But I also remember my friend’s voice when she ventured to say that maybe, just maybe, I had crushes on boys that were out of my league so that I would not have to date them for real.

I remember seeing my best friend falling in love with someone else and getting closer to them and my heart would break a little. I remember telling her how I felt. We grew closer and closer every year and we would tell each other that it was only a phase we would grow out of to eventually marry men, have children, and buy houses next to each other.

I remember spending hours and hours writing in my diary: I know I am not straight. But I know I am not gay. What am I? What am I?

I remember watching Faking it and finally being able to relate. Thank you to Dana, Julia and Carter for developing the character of Amy Raudenfeld.

I remember being on a bus to Clifton in Bristol and seeing that girl and thinking that maybe, just maybe, I would not mind dating a girl after the phase with my best friend was over.

I remember being in my bedroom with my best friend. Looking at each other with heart eyes and speaking of spending our lives together. I remember her telling me again that it was all a game. And I remember telling her that I was tired of playing this game and that I deserved better.

I remember creating a profile on a dating app for the first time and being faced with the preference choices. Show me boys. Show me girls. Show me both. I remember the answer being instant : both. What. Oh wait. I’m bi. I’M BI.

I remember going on my first date with this boy a couple of months later. How it felt wrong from the get go, but I couldn’t understand why. We were the exact same age, had a lot of things in common, listened to the same music. He was kind, respectful, good-looking. And yet, all I could think of was “please, don’t kiss me”. After this date, I remember changing my app preference to “show me girls” only.

I remember coming out to my mum on a beautiful afternoon in Spring. We were holding cups of coffee, sitting on my sofa. I was nervous. I chose the words : “I like boys, but I also like girls. I’m bisexual”.

I remember breaking off all ties with my best friend because I realised that I could not be happy living in a world in which she was dating someone else. I remember crying my eyes out for months and wondering how I could be happy living a life she was not a part of.

I remember watching Wynonna Earp because I had been told Waverly was a positive representation of bisexuality and be happy that a relationship could be so natural and uncomplicated. Thank you to Dominique, Kat and Emily for imagining and developing the Wayhaught relationship and giving me hope.

I remember coming out to my dad over lunch on a beautiful summer day and deliberately not using the word bisexual. I chose the words : “I like girls, but I could also end up with a boy”.

I remember my therapist frowning when I would tell her that I liked girls but invariably precise that I didn’t mind boys either. I remember being angry at her for making me question my sexuality. I remember her telling me I could be a lesbian and that it would be just as fine. That day, I left her office and felt as if I had grown wings. But I was not a lesbian : what about all those crushes I had had on boys?

I remember being with a male colleague in my car at night. I had just given him a lift to his apartment. We had spent a lovely evening. Instead of leaving the car right away saying good night, he lingered a little and was looking at me. I knew I had feelings for him. But a voice in my head was also screaming : “please, don’t kiss me”.

I remember her sitting on my sofa. We had met the week before, at a party. I remember my mind going blank when she went for it and held my hand. How when we walked back to her car, the voice in my head was screaming : “please, please, kiss me”.

I remember coming out to my grandparents and telling them about my new girlfriend. My grandmother said : “I knew”.

For a while, I was obsessed with labels. I wanted to embrace my new identity. Be proud and loud. But I constantly outgrow the label I choose. I claim I am bisexual, and then cringe when I have to admit that I can’t quite picture myself dating a boy. I say I can only picture myself loving a girl, and then cringe again when I have to admit that I am developing a crush on a male colleague.

I don’t know if I should identify as a bisexual, pansexual, queer or lesbian woman. I don’t mind people assuming for me, and I don’t correct them when they do. But I no longer use these labels anymore when I come out to a new colleague or a new friend.

The only thing that I know is that, sometimes, I bump into other human beings who are so beautiful inside and out that it makes my heart beat faster and my eyes glow. And I feel lucky to walk this earth and meet these people and love them and lose them and feel alive.

Larissa

I’m a 30 years old queer cisgender woman that knew from a very young age that I liked girls. However, I didn’t really know that I was a lesbian at that time.
As far as I can remeber I had crushes on girls, but as a kid growing up in the northeast of Brazil (a very “tradicional” region) I had no queer references whatsoever. I just knew that girls were suppost to like boys, so I faked it, throughout my entire adolescence. I dated boys and kisses a lot of them so that no one would suspect that I was actually in love with a girl friend.
It was only when I went to college in another state across the country that I had the courage to try to kiss a girl. In a traditional Brazilian festivity, carnaval, I kissed a girl for the first time and that made me realize how much I wanted to do that for my entire life. Since It was a party and there was a lot of alchool involved none of my friends said much about It, and I actually ended up with some other guys for almost an year before finally having the guts to admit first to my self, that I was definitely not into guys.
It was watching shows with queer characters that helped me build the stregnth to come out, in special Naya Rivera’s Santana in Glee. I related so much to her that I started to feel the need to be honest with myself, to stop hiding who I was, that’s when I leaned on my first openly gay friend to start going out more, meeting girls and telling people around me that I was gay. I then came out to my childhood friends who still lived in my hometown and it was such a releaf to hear them say that they loved just the same. It was time to tell my family. In a visit to my parents house, on a long weekend that my dad was way I told my mother. Her reaction was as far from undestanding as it could possibly be, she didn’t speak to me again for several months. As I left the very next day, heart broken, I didn’t really know what to do next. My mother told my older sister who called me and said that my mom was devasted, crying all the time and not eating, begging me to go to a therapist. I knew that they were expecting me to be “cured” by this therapist but I went anyway to try to make amends. It turned out the therapist was a really nice woman who knew my sister and their intentions and told me at the first session that she wasn’t there to cure me, but to help me cope with everything I was going throutgh. My father was the real light for me at that time, he asked me to have patience with my mom, that she was taking it pretty hard but was trying to be better for me and that he would love me for the both of them until then.
A lot of scars had to heal before I started to feel whole again and be proud of who I am, but as I was going through all of this with my mom I kept reminding myself that I needed to treat her with the same love and acceptence that I expected to get from her. Now, eight year later, she has come a long way. It took patience and love, but most importantly I knew I wasn’t alone.

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.

The darkness and pain never ends

Am a bisexual who haven’t come out to my family, but told my close friends
I know my family will never approve and I don’t want to lose them. They the only thing I’ve got.