Community Rainbow Waves

JENNIFER, 19, CISGENDER LESBIAN, SHE/HER

I first thought I might be gay when I was 11 (2011). It occurred to me that every ‘crush’ I’d had on boys had only ever been for show. Boys weren’t something I ever thought of that way unless prompted by peers or parents. I remember thinking over in my head ‘no, Jeni, you can’t be gay. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me’ and then I pushed it far back in my mind for years.
By high school (2013), I started to notice I was different. I happened to be in an all girls class so it was easy to notice. I was spending every day with 30 other 13yo girls and all of them obsessing over boys and I started to feel like something was wrong with me. Funnily enough, 13yo me didn’t even consider that I might be gay, I was just pleased to not be distracted from my school work and went on faking crushes on boys, barely realising that was what I was doing.
It took one of my close friends coming out as bisexual, in grade 9 (2014),to make me start thinking about that again, and I didn’t fully admit it to myself, that I liked girls, until I couldn’t deny my feelings for that friend.
I wanted to tell my best friend first but she was away sick from school the day I planned to do it. It made me sad all day and in English I ended up coming out my bi friend/crush as bisexual. I saw being bisexual as more ‘normal’; I was too scared to admit to anyone or even myself that I didn’t like boys. She took it well of course. I texted my other friend that afternoon and told her and she was supportive too.
The next person I told was my older sibling and they were great about it but warned me that our parents didn’t ‘believe’ in bisexuality.
Those first ‘coming outs’ went down in August 2014 right around my 14th birthday. By that September I told a classmate of mine (later became my best friend, now still a good friend) after she’d gushed to me about the boy she liked and then asked who I liked. And, after some nervous hesitation, I told her. She didn’t even question it she just said it was cute and wanted to hear more about the crush not my sexuality which was a huge relief.
The rest of my family (mum, dad, other two siblings) I came out to that October, when I started dating my bisexual friend, simply by telling them who I was dating. They weren’t not supportive. I didn’t expect them to have any ‘issues’ with it. But I can’t say I was happy about their reactions. All that sticks out to me is my dad joking ‘at least you won’t get pregnant’ (which hurt because I’ve always really really wanted to be a mum) and one of my siblings chiming in with another joke. And I can’t ever complain about that because they support me which is ‘lucky’.
My other friends and peers just found out by seeing me with my girlfriend, from what I remember. We didn’t hide it much at school, but there was still hate. I remember holding hands once on the way to class and some guy called us f*gs.
It took me a couple more years to let myself be just gay. I’m almost 20 now and still struggle to talk directly about how I’m attracted to women, unless I’m saying it in a joke. I still feel a bit ashamed at times when watching intimate moments between 2 women in shows/movies and even when no one else is in the room and it’s just kissing. I still have to worry about how anyone new I meet could be moderately to extremely homophobic. I still feel the need to come out to new people I meet. I still have to hide it from my homophobic grandparents. Some of it just really sucks.
But some of it is beautiful too and I try every day to focus on those parts more. My new goal, inspired by Dominique P-C, is to remind myself daily that my queerness is beautiful.

A Bisexual unicorn – 20 years 🙂

I always knew that I was not like other girls, from the age of 8 when I liked my best friend. Nothing else happened until the years passed, at the age of 14 I was experiencing my sexuality, with fear and alone. One day I bravely told my mother, that I liked girls, she was so angry and forbade me from seeing my friends and took me to the psychologist. My soul was broken knowing that she was never going to accept me, it was a difficult time, when I was 16 I stopped going to the psychologist and spoke with my most close friends, who thanks to heaven, supported me and never left me alone. It took time but now I accept myself as I am, a woman who likes women and men. I am 20 years old right now, I wonder if someday I will be able to be happy, if I will be able to be myself with my family that is so homophobic, I would like to be who I am 24/7 and not just with my friends. I wish that the world was not so cruel with its labels and that my family accepts me, me, who only wants to love and be loved.

Mikayla

In retrospect, there were plenty of signs throughout my childhood that proved I wasn’t straight. No, I didn’t just really, really want to be friends with certain female classmates like I thought at the time, I had huge crushes on them. At 13, I consciously made the decision to be an “ally” to my friend whom I thought might be gay. Oh, the irony. Even after taking every available “Am I Gay?” quiz on the internet, my brain managed to maintain the wall it put up to protect my consciousness from the reality of my queer identity. “Reality” involved too many struggles, uncertainties, and judgements that I would’ve had to face once I came out to myself, so I spent years unaware that a part of me had already begun questioning my sexuality. Then, when I was 16, I had a dream that I was dating one of my female classmates. I woke up from the dream in the middle of the night and said out loud to myself, “Shit, I’m gay.” An epiphany. Then, I smiled, so peaceful and happy to finally understand so much of my life from before that moment. Though, the fear eventually set in. I tried so desperately to stay closeted and avoid being a target for the homophobia expressed by my family and classmates that I spent everyday until graduation with the goal of being as invisible as possible. Almost three years later, I’d mostly come to terms with being bisexual and decided to come out to my little sister, step-sister, and best friend. They all accepted me immediately. Then, a few weeks later, the Pulse Nightclub shooting happened in my city and it stomped out all the light of my newfound openness. However, it was never a question that I would eventually come out to everyone I could, but afraid that I’d be disowned, I decided to wait until I graduated college and moved out of my mom’s house to come out to my parents. Things didn’t work out that way though because I was outed to my mother when she found paperwork from my therapist about my sexuality and a few other very serious issues I was seeking help for. I had to officially come out to her in a therapy session after that. She said she loved me no matter what but we haven’t spoken about it in three years. I was less interested in hiding my identity from my Trump-supporting dad since I didn’t live with him anyway. Eventually, he asked me about the pride flag on my keychain so I told him I was bi. He also said he loved me no matter what but that it’s better if I just pick one gender to be interested in (I decided to choose my battles wisely and leave that conversation for another time). He hugged me and said he’d keep my “secret” and we haven’t talked about it in a year. I have spent the last few years living “out” and finding where I belong in the world and among the vastness of the queer community. Most of this part of my journey has been led by Wynonna Earp, its fandom and cast, and Start The Wave, as they came into my life at the most pivotal moments possible and exactly when I truly needed them. The universe, man. And now, I’ll navigate the next steps of my journey to fully living as my authentic self with my brave little sister by my side since she has recently come out to me as bisexual. We got this. To other queer people, you got this, too.

I’m not much of a writer, but due to the inspiration I am feeling to share my story, I will do my best!

I didn’t come out until I was 21. Before then, I could barely say the words “lesbian, “gay,” or “queer.” I think because deep down, I know that was who I was-well one small part of me. In undergrad, I fell in love with another woman, whom I believe also had feelings for me, but due to being a member of a evangelical and fundamentalist religious group, I was told that those feelings are not valid and I would be an “abomination” if I acted on them. Interestingly enough, I come from an extremely supportive family and my siblings also identify within the LGBTQ+ community. Yet, at the time I was trying to find my own identity and the friends I found through this religious group were the only ones I was surrounding myself with. As I started to realize my attraction towards my own identified gender, these two identities between religion/faith and sexuality became a conflict. Anxiety came, depression came, and I knew I needed to do something about it. I was in an introduction to counseling class in my undergraduate studies, and one of our projects was to go to counseling-specifically at an on-campus clinic where counselors in training (graduate students) were practicing their skills with undergrads. This was better than writing a paper so of course I’ll do the counseling! What came of this was the realization of how much I disliked and even hated myself, without even understanding quite yet that the reason for this was my same-sex, same-gender attraction. After my counseling stopped with this clinic, I sought out counseling at the university’s counseling/psychological services. The therapist I met there-whom I saw for four years-saved my life. And helped me save mine. Therapy was tough. It pushed me and made me uncomfortable at times, but these were the important moments. My therapist helped me to bring my own self-awareness to the self-hatred I was using to sabotage myself, but also where this came from. It took about three years (by my senior year) for me to leave that religious group, begin to accept and validate my own feelings for what they were, and started dating my first girlfriend. It was scary, it was a big unknown, and ultimately, I was scared of Rejection. I was rejected by my “friends” from the religious group for having the resilience to go through what I did and to tell them my truth. I began going to a religious group that DID accept who I am, and began surrounding myself with supportive people. I am now 28 years old, have my graduate degree in counseling-the same program from which I first received those counseling services for the class I took-and am working in the mental health field to help others, like the individuals who helped me. I’ve assisted others through my career by listening and validating their thoughts and feelings and most importantly, Accepting them. I’m only able to truly do this now as I have accepted myself and love myself for who I am. It’s important to continue growing and learning, not just about ourselves but about others and their cultures, and fight back injustices we see. It’s the actions, not the words that true show advocacy. I’ll end it there but thank you so much, Ms. Provost-Chalkley for being you and for instilling this inspiration to share my own story.

I had some of my first thoughts about being with girls when I was about 9 or so years old. Prior to that I had never really been interested in anyone or being with any one in a romantic way. At this point in my life I didn’t even know being queer was an option. Although I do live in an accepting home, There were never any situations where I was exposed to this kind of love. At the time, I had just thought I was being weird, and I kind of just lost interest in even thinking about anyone in a special way, whether that’s because I was trying to hide my true self, or that’s just who I was I still don’t know. Fast forward 3 years or so, I had met two friends in school and gradually we grew closer together. Over the summer us 3 would face time nearly every day, and they knew a secret that I didn’t because they were friends before they knew me. One of them was gay. That declaration got me thinking, and opened up a door in some ways. I thought about whether that could be me, but I always just though, “No, you just want to be like her.” Because I admired her in a way, and still do. And then I stumbled across a wonderfully written show, Wynonna Earp. The character of Waverly, portrayed by the lovely Dominique Provost-Chalkley, sort of made me realize something. It’s hard to explain, but the idea that you can be swept off your feet by someone you never even thought you would ever be with really spoke to me. I myself identify as female, and I thought about it. I could be with a man, sure. But I also thought that I would be okay with dating a woman as well. I couldn’t care less what they identified as, as long as I love the person. And not long after through the openness and support of my friends I was able to tell them, all of them, and no one ever saw me any different. In fact, me and another friend of mine (who is bisexual) helped someone else be open about who they were to our friend group, which was beautiful. And that night we decided on a funny way to tell my parents. I am so thankful that my family was so accepting, and simply didn’t care. My whole life my parents never referred to my future lover as a husband, they always said “whoever I marry” which helped a lot. So, the way that I decided to come out was through the use of a pumpkin. My friend painted a pan sexual flag on a little pumpkin, and I labeled it ‘Panpkin’. I put it on the mantle one fireplace, and my sister figured it out almost immediately, and when my mom finally got it, she spoke to me about it. Since then I’ve been living an amazing life with incredibly supportive friends and family, and because Waverly was such an important figure during my journey, I decided to name my beloved Portuguese Water Dog after her. She’s 5 months old and a racket, but I love her none the less.

Blood & Water

Growing up I had an open relationship with my parents, particularly my mom. My mom was a very good listener and had a gift for making her home a safe place for kids. I have distinct memories of my best friends, going through rough times (either life-altering crisis…or in hindsight not so serious teenage dramatics) coming over to feel “heard.” She’d listen and understand and when she’d leave after hugging us goodnight my friends would often say something like “I wish my mom and I could talk that way.”

Fast forward to the summer of my senior year in college. At the time I was in a 2-year relationship with a beautifully kind guy my family, and heck myself thought I’d marry soon after graduating. I was taking a summer course and decided to live in the dorms with one of my best college friends and teammate, “Bell.” (for purposes of this story) Her best friend/partner, now spouse, was bunked up with a girl that would end up playing a pretty big role in my coming out story. “Bell” was pretty involved in the LGBTQ community as her partner had at that time recently come out as trans. By then they had fought through most of what would be their uphill battle as an LGBTQ couple at a very Catholic school. This context is important because by that summer I had introduced them to my mom. She was kind and treated them like any other person I cared about. This little detail will throw me for a loop later…

One summer night a group of us decided to go to a Gay club. It wasn’t my first time going, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say some part of me knew something was going to happen. The night ended with me kissing the girl I mentioned and making the conscious decision to see what sleeping with her felt like. My understanding of my sexuality at that time was that I enjoyed having sex with men, I loved a few along the way…and if I ever found myself being attracted to women, I’d simply add them to the list of people I was also into. I’d say I had a very matter of fact feeling about my sexuality. Love is Love… and I’m straight.

My mom called the next morning and I answered, “Hi, I’m hungover as hell and a girl kissed me last night.” I remember her laughing and asking if I was going to tell my boyfriend. The conversation went on and now that I’ve since been to therapy (which rocks btw) I can clearly remember the sound of how casually I lied to my mom. The truth was that I was interested in this girl since summer started, I leaned in first, she leaned in back, we kissed, and I made the mental call to go home with her that night. I realized I was slightly full of shit when it came to honesty. With others…and myself. Sure, I kissed girls in High School on “dares,” but never admitted I liked it and maybe… (not so maybe) put myself in a position to take those particular dares on purpose. I told myself, my parents, and friends what made sense about boyfriends I genuinely loved as people, but possibly never really liked as partners.

All in all, the open relationship I thought I had with my parents wasn’t so open. And that was on me. However, the fears that kept me from being honest then and now (still healing) were realized when I broke things off with my boyfriend and called my mom to tell her I was, “pursuing a relationship with the girl” I had told her about. She screamed, my parents cried, they cancelled my phone plan, closed my bank account, sicced my very Mexican very old school grandma on me, and of course, “cursed the day they spent 6 figures sending me to a Catholic school to become a lesbian,” etc. I laugh at this all now (again… thank you therapy) because it was the swift kick in the ass I needed to start “adulting,” but I’d be remiss to say it didn’t crush me. A. because I was surprised, they reacted the way they did given how open they had been with my friends and their experiences. (Although clearly my subconscious was on to something lol) B. I began to associate my self-worth with monetary value. Money and acceptance were twisted into a very messy and conditional thing that I would later need to work out. Money of course screaming PRIVELEGE. (Insert: Unlike a lot of my LGBTQ family I am a white passing, middle class, college educated women, and because of these things I was born into I was in an ideal position to get back on my feet, quickly.) And acceptance of course being something too many of us struggle with on a daily basis.

Fast forward to ending a very toxic and abusive relationship with the girl from the gay bar, moving into my own place (parents eagerly paying for the Uhaul when I announced I had left her… there’s an ironic gay joke in there somewhere) and meeting my now wife amid the chaos. At that point I was out to my friends and sister but had never said the words “I’m Gay” to my parents. Sidenote: I never said those words to my friends or sister either, beautifully enough I simply told them I’ve met this amazing girl and it’s going well…they didn’t need the labels.

After 6 months of dating my then girlfriend I told my parents I was in a relationship. Fast forward another 6 months of my dad telling me they weren’t ready to meet her I decided to propose knowing I couldn’t wait for them to come around. We got married a year and a half later and they didn’t show up to the wedding. We’ve been married for 2 years and are now trying to start our family!

They probably won’t ever meet my wife, and our future kids, but I’ve learned that coming out and coming into myself was something I did unconditionally. A sort of promise I made to myself and the world (Insert: source or the universe, g.d, or whatever works for you) that I would dedicate my authenticity to the balance of justice and harmony. And although that balancing act is sometimes very hard with people like my parents it makes for clear boundaries… simply put, seek justice when the rights of others are at risk (i.e when I don’t stand up for myself, my community…or other marginalized peoples)…and seek harmony when recognizing one another’s humanity will birth compassion and perhaps strides towards progress and understanding. (I struggle with the latter)

The last and most important thing I’d like to share, and the gift of my life is my chosen family. It may be cliché and an unfortunate necessity for many of us in the LGBTQ community, but the friends I have found and the family I have built is more than I could have imagined. I have a sister that walked me down the aisle, best friends whose parents showed up to celebrate my engagement, witness my first look with my wife, celebrate my marriage, create and celebrate new holiday traditions, and last but not least show up for every major life moment no matter the miles between us. I’ve found friends and bonus parents that will help raise my children and teach me how to be a wife, mother and the best version of myself. Sure, there is pain, but like many quotes that are historically misinterpreted, “blood is thicker than water,” really means that the blood shared on the battlefield is thicker than the water of the womb. And trust me the people who have chosen to fight for me and those I’ve chosen to fight beside are sure as shit there. Always.

For anyone needing to hear this: “You are loved, and it gets better.”

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.

Regan

it sounds stupid but when me and my friends were playing truth or dare, i asked the question, truth or dare, and they answered truth and my question was “who do you think is gay in the group?’ when she answered she said someone else, but i said well you wrong because it is me. and now my friends accept me. i Love them so much and we joke all the time like out of all the ways you could come out, you came out that way. I love my coming out story cause in unique lol. <3

Ainiz

I remember the first time I saw two girls kiss in a show. I was 12 and it was the show Heroes. I was so shocked but at the same time I was like “omg that’s so cute”, I started seeing love differently 🙂

I was in 10th grade, I had never had feelings for a guy and I was starting to question if I was asexual because the whole idea of being with a man scared me BUT then I started having feelings for this girl in my class (that then became my best friend) but I was always pushing those feelings away thinking it was nothing and it was a “phase”, I was kinda scared of love let alone the fact that I could have feelings for a girl. I never said anything about it.

Then I failed 10th grade and went to an art school to study music and that’s when it got REAL! Once I got there everyone was extremely welcoming and open! It was totally different! I started crushing on a girl from my class again the thing was that my best friend was also crushing on her AHAHAH we were fine tho she was really cool about it so I was like “okay dude.. maybe you’re bisexual????”. I decided to tell the girl that I had a crush on her and she ghosted me… it was my very first heartbreak and it sucked :'(

I came out ONLY to my friends as bisexual and then…. I started crushing on another girl (what I learned from all of this is that I fall for people way too easily ahaha).

This girl was like THE girl like everyone knew her and had a crush on her so I was like “I’ll just wait for the feelings to go away” but…. we became best friends too… smh this crush lasted 2 years!!! and I NEVER said anything but it was getting obvious so I told her. She seemed really cool and okay with it and I was really happy but then.. she started talking less to me.. she would push me and my real best friend away from each other and I was just trying to still be friends with her. It became EXTREMELY toxic so I left the group.

I eventually came out to my uncle (who is my dad basically cause my actual dad passed away) and it just came in the conversation and he didn’t even have a reaction, he was totally fine with it and it felt like something was lifted off my shoulders.

During all of this I also realized that I was most likely gay and I felt more comfortable with gay but I’m also not a big fan of labels so now I just say that I’m queer

I came out to the rest of my family in an Instagram story HAHAHAH I drew a rainbow and just came out HAHAHA. I am lucky enough to have a family that supports me and doesn’t care about my sexuality (even tho there’s always those people that make ALOT of questions about it) but yeah.

This is my story and I am one of the lucky ones, I was also very lucky to be in slightly luckier generation (I’m almost 19). There’s alot more representation nowadays but some of it is still not being portrayed the right way and we need to keep fighting for that!

Thank you for letting me share my story and I hope it helps someone somehow!

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

Bisexual

For me, it all started with a dream. I had a dream about my best friend when I was 15, and that was when I knew that I had deeper feelings for her. We ended up falling in love and having a relationship for almost two years. We chose to keep it a secret because we were so afraid of being judged by our family and friends. The secrecy ultimately led to our demise. In college, I started to tell people my story. Everyone struggles with their identity, but it’s even harder when you grew up in a community that has a negative view of who you truly are. When I stopped repressed who I was, I started living as my true self. Honestly, I was so surprised by the love and support I received from everyone. I told my family and have their full support. For me, I needed the love and acceptance of others to ultimately love myself. I am proudly bisexual! Being apart of the LGBTQ+ community is my superpower and has given me the ability to feel deep empathy towards others. I have learned to stop judging myself, which in turn made me stop judging others. Love always win.