Community Rainbow Waves

I’m autistic and queer…

It is exceedingly difficult in itself having a condition like autism that has made you different since you are born. It is difficult to be singled out as a child as different, and to be judged for your behavior, for the way you communicate, for how you think or see the world. But, how difficult it is, when growing up you realize that autism was not your only difference but also who you have been attracted to. It is a very lonely journey, doubly judged, where anxiety, fears take over you. Feeling confused, that you do things wrong, is a very heavy burden. but, you have to be brave, brave to assume who we really are. Assuming that the way you process the world is not wrong, nor who you decide to love. The journey through life is uphill, but not because of what they will say you must stop being you.

I am pansexual

I think I have always known, however, I have kept that part of me locked away and hidden for so long. I thought I had just ‘experimented’ in my youth, but there was no way I could actually be queer. My family was/is very sexually repressive, that made it difficult to be who I have always been. I have also grown up in a regional community, which has made it difficult not having much representation. My best friend in high school has two mums and I seen the toll it took on her navigating the negative discourse that was aimed at her from coming from a queer family. That experience just solidified that I couldn’t be out. So I suppressed that side of me, I did not allow it to show, and I was ashamed that there were girls that i just couldn’t get out of my head. So I went the opposite way, I entered relationships with bad men, the polar opposite of anything remotely queer, and I had a daughter. My daughter is the only thing I don’t regret from living my closeted life. Then as a mature aged student I entered university where I met my fiancé. He is transgender, FTM. He introduced me to a world that I thought was closed to me, we became friends, then lovers, and now family.
Our housemate, his best friend, is also pansexual, and with our little community I feel I finally belong.
I didn’t exactly come out to anyone except him. My family knew him, knew he was transgender, and when we started dating it was as simple as ‘him and I are together now, I will not discuss our sexuality, if you have any concerns about the way he treats me, by all means say something, however if it’s about sexuality, I will not hear it’. The sense of power I have felt from standing up to my family and just being me is something purely wonderful. I still struggle against pre-conceived notions of who I am “meant” to be, of how this world is structured to suppress women like me and my community.
We are getting married at the end of this year, and have only two celebrants to choose from that are allies and will marry us.
However, I refuse to let that get me down.
I am out, without coming out. I am in love with a beautiful, wonderful man. I stand up for what I believe in. I am queer. For once in my life I am simply ME!

Aly

On some level, I always knew I was different. I knew that I wasn’t as “boy crazy” as all my friends growing up. Due to various outside forces at play, including (but not limited to) family, peers, church, and small town disdain of queer identities, I never allowed myself to explore the possibility that I was a lesbian.

That all changed when I graduated high school and moved 2 hours away to college. Geographically, I was still in close proximity to my family; socially, however, I was a world away from the “hick town” of my upbringing. While in college, I joined both a sorority AND the rugby club team. I met queer women of many identities and walks of life in both organizations.

Once I realized that the sometimes all-too-typical media portrayal of “butch” lesbians were not the only way to be queer, all the mental puzzle pieces clicked into place. (I feel as though I should interject here and sing the praises of butch lesbians for the wonderful, beautiful beings that they are. That’s just not an identity I have ever associated with myself, therefore it took me some time to understand that one could be a lesbian without also being perceived as masculine.)

Once I came out to myself (thanks in no small part to the Spashley and Otalia ships, as well as the movies Blue Crush and Bring It On) and started dating my first girlfriend, there was really no looking back. I finally understood the butterflies my friends talked about when referencing their first kisses with their respective boyfriends. It was with SO MUCH relieve that I realized I was neither crazy nor broken….just gay!

I still live just outside of my old college town, working as a nurse. My beautiful wife, who had her own coming-out struggles involving her very Mexican/Catholic family, is working as a local high school teacher. Every day that I wake up and get to live life alongside the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, I thank my lucky stars that I found the courage to accept and live my truth.

Lesbian

I found out when I was 11 but I guess I always felt like I knew and the first person that I told was my best friend and she has supported me through it since, then I told my mom but she just told me that I was too young and I didn’t know anything but it’s been a couple of years and I’m still the same person I still like girls i just hope she allows me to be me once I tell her again I hope she supports me.

Lesbian

I had never been much interested in boys, while my group friends talked about the boys they liked I never really cared for it or wanted to comment on it. After a few years I drifted apart from that group of friends. One day at school
when I was either 14 or 15 one of the girls from that group approached me and asked if I’m a lesbian. I was shocked and didn’t know how to respond immediately, I had answered with a no and asked where that question came from. She had explained that I had never shown any interest nor talked about boys while I was still friends with them and that I was always very tomboyish. So I thought about it and I said maybe. She left and I quickly followed her to ask not to tell anyone. We got into a lively conversation and her other friends approached to ask what was going on and she flat out told them that I’m a lesbian. I was furious, more people came along and they told them as well.
Soon so many people knew of something I wasn’t even sure of and it was embarrassing. I changed schools after the year ended and I started to question my sexuality a whole lot. I was afraid to call myself a lesbian so I went with every other thing, asexual, aromatic, bisexual, pansexual, lesbian, back to pansexual. A rollercoaster for many years. But recently, I discovered myself completely at the ripe age of 20, that I’m a lesbian. I came out to my close friends very quickly and I was showered with love and acceptance. I couldn’t have been happier really. I love being a lesbian and I love my community. Much love to everyone

Just a random guy enjoying to give love to other people.

I was born in Russia, adopted and living in France. I never knew my biological parents and so never got answers to my many questions. And it caused a lot of problems in the future, as I’m going to explain you there :
As soon as I remember, I knew I was feeling different. First I thought I was just a lesbian, a woman attracted to other women. But with the years, I was feeling unconfortable with my name… People were all saying “Justine” “she” “cutie” and my mind was feeling in another way…
In France there are genders for EVERYTHING, and so I was feeling weird ALL THE TIME…
I felt bad, always feeling like something was missing in my life.
I suffered for years from mutilation impulses and now all the scars remind me what I went throught, at the begining I was ashamed, but now I’m proud of it, it shows that my life hadn’t always been easy, but I survived, I won against depression.
When I clearly got what was happening to me, I decided to don’t hide myself anymore, I had a name on what I felt. I wanted to continue being proud of me and who I was ( I was already an assumed lesbian ).
I told it to my parents and my siblings last summer, and my siblings don’t care at all about it, but my parents don’t accept it, at all…
I told my friends as soon as I came back to school in September, they call me Thomas as if I’ve always been this man, and it feels soooo good !
I feel like I have a new life, truly me, Thomas, a random guy, finally loving other people because he learnt to move himself
My last relationships were better than all the others because I was myself, and I could love someone without fighting inside for who I was.
I’m a man, in a women body ( for the moment ), but I really love my life now, I’m ready to confront life and all its problems because myself isn’t one anymore.
Be who you are, whatever people think, because you have to love yourself before wanting to love other people
And, be fucking proud.
You’re an human, special, incredible, unique, wonderful.
And I am this kind of human
I’m a transgender
And, finally
#I’m out !!

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

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.

Bisexual

I became aware mostly thanks to a very open minded friend while we were in middle school, she had an account in Tumblr and she recommended the app to me, while she was teaching me how to use it she told me “here we all are anonymous and you can even delete your search history” and this gave me my first step to look for the queer community because I wasn’t being monitored by my parents and there I realized so many people were happy with having different sexualities and I came to realize I liked girls as I liked boys and it broke me at first ‘cus I was already bullied so I didn’t want to add a stone to it, so I mostly just buried it and only made some side comments to the same friend who introduced me to Tumblr, on my last year of middle school this friend asked me if I didn’t have a crush in one of our girl friends and I denied it completely and went home but that comment bugged me a lot so I kind of did a little of soul searching at the tender age of 14 and accepted that I liked this girl and basically cried on the phone while talking with my friend about it and she helped me out to a stand point were even if I didn’t want to make it public I accepted that I was different.
That lasted about 3 months because a guy who mocked me found out by eavesdropping my conversation and he kicked me out of the closet to my whole generation and it felt like the end of the world! I haven’t even come out to my mom and my whole school already knew! Thankfully, no one cared and the ones who cared didn’t have a problem with it and they help me control the panic and the kid was expelled of the school.
After it came high school, I started it being more comfortable with being bisexual and I found this little web series called “Carmilla” which help me see such amazing characters being so casual about their likes that I started to get a little of confidence, then I was recommended this weird series called “Wynnona Earp” and well, the rest is history, I came out to my mom by accident and she had a little melt down for a few weeks but it ended well, she has even come with me to the Pride Parade this last few years, my dad was chill and was just glad I figured out early so I could be happy and my mom told everyone in my family by being overly enthusiastic, at the end I’m just glad I have the support of my family and friends and now I’m 19, ready to face the world one step at a time 😀

Queer / Non-Binary

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION OF ABUSE, SELF HARMING BEHAVIOR, AND SUICIDE.

Hello, my name is Paula from Brazil and my coming out history is a little confusing, so I’m gonna try to resume it as possible as I can.

Why is it complicated? Because a huge part of my childhood was erased from my mind, or at least for a long period I had these huge blanks in my brain, consequences of child abuse suffered from my 8 until my 12 years old. So when my teens came up I was struggling with a lot of stuff, so my orientation and sexual identity was on the surface of all my internal problems. Such as depression, substance abuse, ODs, attempts of suicide, and hospitalizations.

But at the same time, I was quite different and I was pretty conscious that I had attractions with girls but also with boys. Although with boys I was feeling guilty as well. Because I was constantly feeling all this overwhelming hate. Hate of the world, hate of myself, and hate of all men… almost rage if I’m being really honest. Probably, that’s why I was constantly close to dying because I wasn’t giving a fuck about anything.

My brother and best friend (RIP) was the first person I’d come out. I was 14 years old. But is funny though, because was him that asked me with I was gay. And was ok with all my family, as a matter of fact, everybody embraced. Honestly, I didn’t have a problem with the girl’s attraction part, I’d always felt comfortable and safe with them. My struggle was accepting that it was okay having attractions for boys as well. That only took 10 years of my life, even though I was able to have sex experiences with men I’m still having trust issues, emotionally speaking.

Only four years ago I could see other questions tagged in my mind. Questions about my identity, am I trans or not? Because I never felt comfortable with my body, but is it possible that is my child abuse tricking me? Or maybe I just don’t like labels and have a different idea about what women and men are. Or maybe I just don’t feel like either one of them. This is still a work in progress and sometimes I don’t think if I still have the energy. Or maybe is just fear because I live in a country where LGBTQ people have no voice or even proper rights. Especially trans people. Every day a trans life is taken from just for being trans in Brazil.

Music, art, vegan diet, animal care, and LGBTQ activism. Those are all the stuff that literally saved my life. Because I feel like we are here to constantly changing and to always transcend to a better version of ourselves, and maybe or probably, I’m gonna need another life to discover it. So kills me how the world can be so ugly sometimes.

And that’s why I really don’t know how I’m alive. I’m 30 years now and I look all this stuff I had to survive and deal with. But surprises me every day how hopefully I still am, and surprises me how I can be so fucking positive that annoys myself.
I know that I need to deal with a lot of stuff yet.

But I’m proud to already be so much more.

And especially I’m proud to look backward and access all that pain and suffering but with all the fucking strength of the world.

I’m proud to just be alive, honestly.