Community Rainbow Waves

Kate

It takes a lot of courage and strength to come out, it really does. It’s not as simple as just blurting it out with a smile on your face. I’m not saying that all of us have had a tough time coming out. Not at all. I’m just speaking on my own personal experience.

Coming out was hard for me. I was 15 years old. Even though I knew my mom would be extremely supportive, I was terrified. Not because of my mom, it was everyone else and the scrutiny that I was going to potentially be under. I had to take a deep breath and just say it, or so I thought. But for the first little while, I went to say it and nothing came out. I was truly terrified to say anything. My anxiety spiked. I was scared. Scared to say anything. Scared that I liked girls because I was told there was something wrong with me and to get help. So, I was scared to speak my truth.

I woke up one morning and thought to myself; “Surely it can’t be as bad as I thought!”. Well, I got up and I told her. I said “mom if I like girls, will you still love me? I like girls.” My mom smiled, hugged me and said simply this….”Katie I am so proud of you!”. I was so relieved and her approval was all I needed. So, I thought I am going to be accepted by everyone!

That’s not the way it went with everyone. I was told I was disgusting, gross, taunted, teased, bullied, told it’s wrong and that I really wasn’t and that I should marry a man. I felt so ashamed of myself.

I told my mom what had happened and that I will never be accepted by anyone. I cried. She told me I wasn’t the only one, hugged me and said we are going to go out. She took me downtown to Pride. There were so many people and couples that were actually happy to be seen together and so many colours. My head was spinning but deep down inside I had never felt more alive!

I am proud of who I am. I am a lesbian. I am into girls. I am my authentic self!

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.

An almost married Lesbian

I first acknowledged I was into women in the 5th grade. As a kid I was pretty sheltered so I didn’t actually know what gay/lesbian was, but I did hear about the word bi – so that’s what I called myself. When I told my mom she explained that all women know that other women are beautiful, but that it didn’t necessarily mean I “liked” them. Now, I can acknowledge a good looking dude, don’t get me wrong, but I knew I could never love a man the way I could love a woman. By the time I hit middle school I came out to a few friends who were incredibly supportive. And when high school rolled around, I finally accepted myself enough to openly live as a lesbian. I got very little flack about it thankfully (IMO it’s because of how much larger I was than my peers) but I never truly accepted the part of myself that could be attracted to men. As confusing as this sounds, I still identify as a lesbian because of my previous statement about falling in love. I am lucky enough to love a woman who understands what this means and accepts me for who I am. Unfortunately, our wedding was postponed because of COVID-19, so although I can’t quite call her my wife, we have proudly and affectionately adopted the title of “almost-wife” for each other. Because of my family (who is extremely supportive btw), friends, and the love of my life I am enthusiastically proud to be a part of this wonderfully supportive and kind community. And I am so friggin excited that Start the Wave has joined with the LGBTQ+ community so we can grow and learn and love one another the way that we all deserve!

Bisexual or probably pansexual?

I am not fully out yet. Sometime, I still need to shield my sexual identity for several different reasons. First, maybe because I don’t really want to be labelled. Second, perhaps just simply out of fear.

Hi, I am from Indonesia. I am at my 40s, and I am a single mom. I had came out as bisexual in small circle of my friends & fam a long ago, but it wasn’t because I was feeling anxious or “awaken” to my queer side. It was purely that time out of curiosity and adventurous sense.

I was in highschool when I read Freud’s. I came to conclusion that somehow everyone born with both male/female potential in them. I began to notice my own, and tried to explore that part by admitting that my past attraction to the same-sex was not mere platonic or so so. It was the same kind with my attraction to the opposite-sex. It also brought me to revisit my childhood girl crush when I was in 2nd grade junior high (12/13 y.o.) which I did not fully aware that I was making a courtship attempt toward her that time.

In highschool, after opening the lock to my universal self – and let me free to identify myself as sexually fluid, I started flowing with same-sex crush, though not doing anything about it.

There was no different, come to think about it now, between my feeling to girl before I am aware of my sexuality and after admitting it. The feeling were the same, but by making a name on myself, I then know how to name the feeling as well. “I had crush with girl”.

Despite so, I did not make any attempt to experience. It was pretty rare for me being bisexual in my small city, with no meeting of the same type of peer, and honestly I didn’t feel comfortable either to be involved or being identified marginal in society.

I am an aquarius, my choice is not to be identified with others, I am just being honest with myself and simply being me. So my sexual identity is MY identity, my choice, my own – yet I didn’t feel the need to act on it.

Later in my life, after my first divorce when I was in my early 20th, I decided to explore the notion of love. I was thinking that I had never experienced feeling in love before, as my head was focused on goal and success. But being a divorcee revealed the need for me to understand love. So again, I made my exploration and adventure. Brought up in conventional and religious environment, I started to experience the pre-marital sex with few men, and I also embraced the feeling of falling in love for the first time with my female friend. Nothing went well (nothing last).

Then in my late 20, I got pregnant. A consequence of my wild free spirited. The guy wanted me to get an abortion as he was married and with me it mere a fling. But never crossed in my mind to take that journey. I was ready to be responsible so I refused. I asked him to marry me instead for the sake of the future born child (as it was mere for legal sake) – he did, for a while, before then he ran away when I was 8 months pregnant.

My course of life changed of course being a single parent. Wanted to build my future success again, I also took a shift in career-wise. I moved to a village as a general practitioner (medical doctor), a stepping stone to collect fund to continue education. I left my son with parents. This decision, would be the milestone of my love life as a queer.

There I met a colleague. A “straight” wife. We found the attraction quite instantly. Divorced her abusive husband, we started “living together”. We had an affair during that time in a scrutinized village environment. I was not scared, I even brought her to meet my family and admitted her as my lover to my best friends. I met her family too, but everything was mere an “unspoken truth” to them.

Not like me, she was not fully embraced her sexuality. To her she was not ready to live truthfully within bigotry society. She chose to leave and marry man.

It was the first time that Love trully changed my life and forced me to go on self journey to find out more about who I am. It was also the first time I realized that I may love woman more than a man. My sexual exprience with her was off the chart. I never felt it before with men. I never realized this before.

When Dom (before coming out) shared her opinion the difference between intimacy with male vs female, I relate to that 100%. It was exactly how I said it a long ago, it was also later how I felt when I finally being sexual with same-sex.

Now, I am just a Self. Enjoying my singlehood. Still looking for my truelove/soulmate/twinflame. Not yet decided for sure if I want to be identified publicly as queer. And fully occupied in planning for my future career as again I make an “adventure” toward it after many defeats.

Nevertheless, I want to send lots of love to people who is unique and marginal. Who are unable to see themselves fit the norm or societal tagged. I believe that we all one, the spark of the Universal Mind, the spark of the Divine Love. I believe that we all chosen to learn and to let others learn about love, inclusivity & diversity. I believe that love is love and that love is “God”.

I wish one day, I gain the opportunity and time to join the “wave”. Be part of the community who fight for the values I mentioned above. For now, I am happy within my shell, watching you guys creating your momentum in life.

Love, light.

Still figuring this out

I’ve never admitted it before, ever, to anyone… I’ve spent 15 years feeling like there is something wrong with me! I am brand new to this world and to earpers and I’m blown away by the community feel. I was introduced just a few weeks ago after reading Dom’s birthday post and after reading it I related so much. I was so inspired by her words. I related to the feelings of suppression and putting the part of me I knew to be true to the back of my mind to pretend it didn’t exist. The part of me that I know is also attracted to woman. I’ve got that feeling where my tummy is doing flips by even just typing it. Because I’ve never faced it until now.
I’ve been in heterosexual relationships my whole life and have been in my current relationship for the last 10 years. I have young children who are my everything. This is part of the question that runs through my mind, how can I be in a long term relationship with a man, be a mum and still know that I do have an attraction to woman too? Does it make me a bad person? Or a bad mum? My partner would also likely feel betrayed that I never talked about this. I don’t even know how he would feel about it. There are so many scenarios in my head.
I’m still not ready to verbalise what I am but at least I have finally admitted it to myself. Maybe over time, meeting the right people and continuing to be inspired within the STW community I will one day be at my bravest. But for now, all I know is that Dom sparked something within me to be true to myself. I’m a thirty year old bisexual.

Happiness

I started to realise I liked girls when I was around 11 years old. Before that age, I’d had crushes on girls but not really known they were crushes. I thought I just wanted to look like those girls or be best friends with them. But that wasn’t the case. My mother would often call me a “dyke” if I wore certain clothes that she thought to be too masculine etc. I was very much a tomboy. She’d tell me “people will think you’re gay” and that scared me a little bit. Where I lived, a lot of people were assaulted because they were gay. I even had people would call me gay like it was a bad thing, like it was a hateful word and so I accepted it as that. That was until I told my friend that I believed I liked girls and she told me she also felt that way. My whole life I’d only ever heard bad things said about the community. But with this friend, I finally didn’t feel alone. Before telling my friend, I’d fallen into some very dark places. It was a scary time that I’d never want to relive. I came out to my mother as bisexual when I was 17. I remember the moment incredibly vividly. We were sat on the couch, my laptop open with the wallpaper as Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn, and my mother looks at my laptop, laughs, and calls me a “dyke” yet again. It bothered me. So I finally just said “you know what, yeah, I like girls”. We had a lengthy talk and she told me it didn’t bother her. It was nice to hear because, even though I did not need her acceptance, I still wanted it in a way. I came out as bisexual to her, and my closest friends, because I wanted to hold onto the idea of “maybe I’m still a bit normal if I say I still like boys”. I was confused and depressed for a very long time, even after coming out as bisexual because I still wasn’t being 100% honest with myself. I just wanted to be normal. But then I realised that everyone’s idea of “normal” is different. I thought that if I pretended to keep liking, and dating, boys that it would somehow make people view me as not so different. But, now at the age of 20, I have finally accepted myself for who I truly am and that is a lesbian. I know some people who don’t feel that they need to label themselves but I did. I needed a label and I’ve finally found the one that fits me best. I’m sexually and emotionally attracted to women and I simply don’t feel anything like that for men. It doesn’t make me weird or not normal; it simply makes me, me. I finally love myself and I’m finally confident. I can now openly talk to my mother about my sexuality and not feel terrified. I can watch shows like Wynonna Earp, Carmilla, Buffy etc with her and not feel like I have to hide the fact I watch them simply because they have queer relationships in them. She loves me for who I am and so do my friends. Others opinions of you aren’t vital, but it’s still comforting for me, personally, to know that they are happy for me. It took my a long time to finally accept who I am but noe that I have I’m happy and I wouldn’t change a thing!

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.

A discombobulated female that is into girls

It never completely dawned on me that it wasn’t socially ‘normal’. Both my parents had never shown a liking to the community but never expressed directly that they hated it either. We moved house a lot when I was younger cause of their work, so I got to see so many different cultures and ways of living.

I first got the impression that I was (in some ways) different when I was in secondary school. My favourite teacher did an assembly on LGBTQ+ topic, and ended it by coming out (subtly). A few months later I was questioning her on all things GAY! How to know if I was gay, if other people could tell etc. I ended up coming out as lesbian in year 9, and from then I noticed an increase in my confidence and self-respect. Most of my friend were extremely supportive giving me even more reasons to be proud.

I came out to my parents a month ago, 2 years after my first big announcement. I was only able to do this because of my amazing teacher guiding me through the hate crowd we call a society. She is the reason I can stand up to people and admit that I am a lesbian.

I want this to show that support and knowledge about LGBTQ+ matters and can make someone change from a nervous 11 year old with a stutter to a strong(ish) 16 year old.

I haven’t had a long battle with my sexuality and sometimes I am told that I’m not ‘old enough’ to know what I want. BUT I am proud of me and my community 🙂

Non-Binary

I am 43. I could say my whole story of coming out as a lesbian when I was 16, but that’s not where I want to begin. I am A former songwriter. Made a living. Wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. I had a stroke when I was 40. Had aphasia and memory problems. Then I couldn’t write anymore. I’m still grieving that, but I started painting instead. For the first time. I’ve done quite well with it. I found myself using colors and topics that have to do with who I am. Things I didn’t remember but did remember when I painted them. Like The painting was a vessel for…me to remember who I am. So I decided to come out as non-binary. I’ve always known since I was maybe 4. But there were no words for it. The binary never made sense to me. So here I am. A lovely non-binary human who loves women. And everyone has been so lovely to me. I have learned that there are always consequences to everything you do. Everything. Good. Bad. In between. So you might just be who you are. It’s easier. I hated myself for so long, but now I think I just got lucky.

Christine

When it comes to coming out, there is no such thing as “too late.”

For me, the time came during my sophomore year of college (only two years ago, though it feels like a distant lifetime ago now). Up to that point, I’d scarcely given a thought to my sexuality, let alone my gender. Sure, I’d had friends who’d come out as bisexual and/or nonbinary, I’d had 3 a.m. conversations with these friends about gender and related topics, and I supported those friends and tried to learn about the LGBTQ+ community as best I could, but as far as I knew, I was a cisgender heterosexual guy, and that was that.

Except, of course, it wasn’t.

Coming out, for me, took breaking away from so many of society’s expectations and perceptions of transgender people especially.

In the early months of 2018, the questions started to gnaw away at me, lurking in the back of my mind, ever-present even as I was just trying my best to make it through the rest of the school year in one piece.

Slowly, the questions shifted from “is it possible that I might be a girl?” to “is it okay for me to be a girl?” to “how much do I stand to lose from living my life as a girl?”

As if that struggle weren’t enough, I had to contend with one extra train of thought that complicated matters that much more: “I’m probably a trans girl… but I still like girls.”

There are so many stigmas that society places on transgender people, and what society had taught me was that if you were a trans woman, you had to have figured it out when you were young, you had to be into men, and you had to be as stereotypically girly as possible.

And so I held back. I suppressed as much as I could and tried to go on with my everyday life… until, finally, I couldn’t. The end of sophomore year came, and with nothing else to preoccupy me, the questions drifted back to the front of my mind, and I had no choice but to face them head on.

So, as many of us tend to do in this day and age, I took to the internet looking for answers. Slowly, I started to learn that everything I knew was wrong, and those answers I found smashed through the mental barriers that had held me back.

YES, you can be a trans woman and a lesbian. YES, you don’t have to figure out these things so soon in life. YES, you don’t have to adhere to society’s expectations. YES, you are valid.

By the end of May, I’d come to terms with my transness, though the goals I set for myself changed rapidly. At first, I’d thought I would hold back on coming out and transitioning until later in life… before long, that changed to “within a few years,” which soon gave way to “I’ll come out after I graduate.”

Eventually, I realized time was of the essence, and the last thing I wanted was to look back into my past years down the line and see nothing but regret. Living my life as my true self was the only way forward.

And so I started to make plans. I was going to come out by the end of that summer, and nothing was going to stop me.

I planned my coming out meticulously, because I worried endlessly that my parents, my family, wouldn’t accept me for who I am, that they would try to hold on to their perception of me as their 19-year-old son. I needed to be prepared, and so I took drastic measures. I wrote letters, and I made plans to leave them at home one day and then drive away for a few days to give my family time to take it all in, because I was so scared they would take out their emotions on me.

I remember leaving the letters and a poem explaining all the feelings I’d dealt with over the past months one afternoon in early August, and I remember how long that 90-minute drive to the next state over to stay with a friend felt.

It. Was. Terrifying.

My family’s panicked reactions that first night only made me more scared. I remember the frantic yelling over the phone, I remember the shock my family felt, and above all, I remember the fear I felt, with very few things to take my mind off of it. There was a part of me that worried I would never be able to go home again.

But to my relief, things got better. Within a few days, my family came around. I was able to go back home to a family that resolved that no matter what, they would learn, love me and support me (even if there were things they didn’t quite understand — I still remember the confusion in my dad’s face as he realized I was now a girl who liked girls, which, yes, made me a lesbian), and in the year and a half since my coming out, that hasn’t changed.

I’ve had the chance to well and truly find myself, and I am unabashedly proud to be who I am today. I finally feel like the woman I’m meant to be, and I am so much happier for it.

The road to finding yourself can be a long one, and oftentimes, it can be fraught with struggles, both internal and external. But as I look back at who I used to be and think of how much things have changed for the better in my life since then, I firmly believe traveling down that path has been worth it, and I hope that so many more people will get the chance to take that journey in the days, weeks, months, and years ahead.