I am sorry if this isn’t what you are looking for and it may
not be appropriate for this format but this was the only place I felt
comfortable to send this in. This is a small part of my journey and a
part that I found not many people openly discuss including myself but I
feel its a very part of my ongoing journey.
Confidence……Sexual confidence
Some will admit this, some will lie and some just flat out refuse to
talk about it. I annoyingly fall into later category. Sex is important,
sex is a large part of our lives, whether we are not having any, too
much, not enough, average sex or the best sex of lives. The thoughts
about sex are never from far our minds. The real difference is between
those who discuss it and those who don’t, its not the quantity or
quality, its confidence.
Sexual confidence is not always based on how good you are or think you
are its about how feel when you discuss it, if you discuss it at all.
Recently, although not really that recently I have come out and been
working through the many phases of becoming comfortable with my new
found normal and who I am. I am ashamed to admit that although I have
seen many come out before me I never really understood what it meant.
That it changes everything, its like hitting reset when your are already
halfway through the game. Everything about who you are and the lessons
you have learnt and comforts that you have afford yourself are all
thrown away. The toughest part is that unlike when you go through this
crucial stage of life in your teens most people have already completed
these levels and moved on, leaving you behind, constantly both reminding
you of the challenges you have ahead and making you feel intimidated at
the same time.
I have been working through these phases and I haven’t been able to
let someone (the person I trust the most in the world) really help me.
This has bothered me because why can’t Iet her help me? Why do I feel
that I have to do this alone? Why? These were questions I could not
answer and it felt like I was in canoe unable to paddle on both sides,
around and around I go but never progress up stream. It wasn’t until I
was given ‘homework’ from a stranger whom I sought out to help me
find a way to paddle on both sides that I realised why.
The stranger challenged me to have fun with it. To have fun with my
sexuality. Fun! Really?! Sure no worries, I will get right onto
that…..quick question how do I do that?
Everyone loves fun right? We have been doing it since we were kids, the
laughter that comes with fun is one of the first sounds we make as
babies which is associated with a smile. And yet here I am a 28 year old
woman who doesn’t know how to find one of the most fundamental things
in life. I sat and thought about this, I went through my life like a
rolodex flagging the cards that provided me with smiles and laughter.
Fun! I thought about those moments, they included my friends, family and
activities that I was good at. Although they were all different there
was one commonality in all of them. Confidence.
With my friends I was confident in who I was, confident in the people
around me, the people that I had chosen to spend my time with.
Activities I was confident because I was good at was I was doing. I knew
I could do it and had a sense of achievement, accomplishment and value
in that field.
Family I was confident with them, they have known me for my entire life
and in the kids case for their entire lives. Family is a little
different because my confidence ebbs and flows with them, sometimes in
rare fleeting moments I am at complete ease and find myself smiling just
because and in other moments I find myself withdrawing. Withdrawing
because I sense unease with who I am and what I stand for. As is the
case in most families although we are the same we are very different and
this can be attributed to our life choices and paths we have taken. In
my family I am alone, I am alone in many ways. My career, my sports, my
friends, my locality, my relationship status and…… my sexual
orientation.
I grew up in a family that replaced hugs and emotional support with
sarcasm and sport. I felt this worked until I discovered I was
different. Until I worked out that the sarcasm and sport left with me
void and sense of loneliness. I sought comfort in tried to fill that
void with the other parts of my life that gave me fun; activities and
friends.
I moved through my teens and into my early 20’s slowly finding my own
path and in doing so I realised that there was people out there who
provided love and support to each other. One problem, I didn’t know
how to accept or reciprocate it. I did what I knew, I stuck with my
sarcasm (which I am rather accomplished at) and developed a somewhat
charming manner (modest I know) that made people feel comfortable around
me. They were free of judgement and could have a laugh. I built their
confidence but in doing so I neglected mine. We would discuss their
work, their friendships, their relationships and in turn their sex
lives. I was and still am happy to discuss it all with them and even
their sex lives but only if they didn’t discuss mine.
WHY?
I enjoy it, I have never had any complaints about it so I must be ok at
it so why can’t I talk about it? I get physically uncomfortable and
tense up. And now, I cant even have any fun with it. If I indulge myself
there is an seem secrecy required and at times bordering on shame.
That strangers home work continued circle around and around in my brain
like that bloody canoe.
Then it hit me, confidence, whether it be sexual or otherwise stems from
conversation. A sense of comfort and support to have those
conversations. Unsurprisingly in a family based on sarcasm and sport
open conversations were made in jest not to mention they were few and
far between. When they did happen it was uncomfortable and glazed over
as soon as humanly possible. I never had discussions around
relationships with my siblings let alone conversations about sex. We
would sit around the dinner table a joke would be made that would from
time to time turn sexual in its nature, we would each jump on it,
stacking on each others previous one liner, Dad would just look down and
continue eating, Mum with shake her head attempting to stifle a giggle
and tell us all to stop.
The was it.
No more discussion, nothing to normalise it not even between siblings. I
remember when I was dating a guy and I got the implant contraceptive
rod, it was the same time as my sister in laws hens day. My entire
family had come together and my second eldest brother saw the bandage
that was wrapped around my left bicep. He straight up questioned me in
front of everyone; other siblings, in-laws and parents about why I
needed it. I got uncomfortable, made a quick retort and withdrew to the
corner of the room as my brother made jokes about having never met this
guy and reference his skills with a cricket bat. But don’t worry it
was over quickly as the footy was on Tv. I am pretty certain that is the
only time any of my relationships have been discussed.
Over the years I developed a core group of friends where we would have
numerous wide ranging conversations that developed a comfort and support
system for me. As that friendship circle tightened we all assumed our
various roles and they worked out what I could and could not discuss.
They wouldn’t push unless the perfect storm struck were we were drunk
and they honestly worried about me. Their questions came from a place of
love and support and I was finally able to start to have these
conversations and built the associated confidence. I felt like I was
building a level of confidence that I was happy with but then things
changed.
With increased confidence came an increased sense of self. It was then
that disaster struck, I knew I was different. Different from my family
and friends. All of a sudden that confidence was gone, I was back to
square one.
This sense of disconnection from my family and friends left me feeling
like a lone wolf, fighting through the paralysing self doubt, fear and
unknown. Not knowing if it would ever stop, the sense of trying to
survive the arrows bombarding me from all directions because there was
no shelter in sight. And just spice things up a ‘fun’ side affect of
rewriting of who you are is anxiety because everything had be
reconfigured and required conversations that had previously never been
considered.
Square one has forced me to look inwards and have some honest and
uncomfortable conversations with myself about my inadequacies and my
strengths. Through this I have identified different areas of my life and
the associated challenges. I had broken them down into bite sized pieces
and slowly consumed them. Now I am back to the same issue that plagued
me in my 20’s. Sexual confidence. The only difference now is that my
family don’t even know how to make the jokes about it but in fairness
I haven’t changed in the fact that i still can’t have the
conversation, even in jest.
Request of fun can only be fulfilled once I have sexual confidence to
enjoy it again. I have identified why I have this deficient in my
personality. I am trying to re-program my brain that sex and
relationships are not a taboo topic and that is something everyone does,
thinks and fantasises about including me. Relationships and sex are
meant to be fun.
Now, how do move out my own insecurities long enough to enjoy it? To
find fun?
The answer…….
CONVERSATIONS, so here we go.
I have been misgendered from a very young age.
Whether it was a stranger seeing a boy but being told that I was a girl or by my parents who only ever knew me as a female. Then came my next identity crisis. In primary school, I also had my first crush on a girl which created a new bunch of questions that I didn’t know whom to ask. I hadn’t been taught about the vast spectrum of genders and to the extent that I had a sense of sexuality it was faint at best.
I have always been lucky to be surrounded by people who support me and have loved me for whoever I want to be. However even at the tender age of 11, I was well aware that the world around me was not always going to have my back. This fear of whether or not I would be accepted for who I am kept me from yelling from the rooftops how I felt and how I wanted to look.
I went to a girl’s school in Melbourne, Australia. While this only further awaked my sexuality, it did nothing to help with my doubts over who I was. As a 14-year-old I never felt more different to everyone else around me than when I was at school play acting at being a girl surrounded by other teenagers who were definitely female. Yet due to the limited education that I had received about the gender spectrum I only felt alienated and different, without the comfort of having an identity that I could cling to. Believing that there are only two genders in the world, boy and girl, and that you are what you are born as, sent me to a terrifying and dark place.
Even so, I had the comfort that my friends were supportive of me when I came out as queer. I was so shocked when they shrugged and moved on like it was a completely normal thing, I had to ask them if they had heard what I said. Every LGBT story I had ever read led me to believe that I would receive a negative reaction. However, I believe I have been lucky for my parents were the same, reacting with joy and support.
Later, I discovered the gender spectrum and I have never been more relieved. I found a place that I could home and an identity that I could feel comfortable in.
You would think that after coming out once, a second time would be like a piece of cake. Unfortunately, it was even harder. Before I had known my parents friend who were queer. They had been over for dinner and they had tucked me into my bed. Although I wasn’t certain, I wasn’t too worried. Now I was about to tell them that the daughter they had known for years could no longer be their daughter. Perhaps blurting it out at the dinner table ten minutes before our favourite tv show started wasn’t the best idea but they couldn’t have been more supportive.
Although, with my parents I am now in a place where I can talk to them comfortably about me being their son, I have not reached that level of comfortableness outside, in the real world. It is the sad truth that we do not live in a world where every single person is guaranteed to support you. But from my experience so far, there are many people out there who have my back. As someone who is still afraid to go to public toilets, stutters out that they are girl when questioned in the female bathroom but is too scared that they might be thought of as a fraud in the male bathrooms, I applaud those who stand strong and say I don’t care what the world thinks, this is me and I am proud. As a person who does not correct my grandmother when she calls me Sophie, even though my name has been Charlie for three years, I read Dom’s message and I smile, for a person who I have looked up to for so long has stood up and paved the way for many people to truly be themselves.
With the courage from Dom’s coming out, I stand here and I yell from the rooftops that I am a Queer Trans Male and I could not be more proud of who I am.
#OutIsTheNewIn
When I was 14, I met a new girl in town. She was lesbian and has came out a long time ago, she was 18. We see each other during one year, I taught it was friendship first until the holidays (June-August) where I miss her so much. So we see each other again, run and kissed in a public place. I didn’t came out to my parents at this moment, but two years later. My parents just says “OK” when I say it. But they don’t know that I’m polyamorous (saying that is much difficult that saying that I like girls.)
Coming out, for me, never really ends. I come out to new friends, to family, to coworkers, to the woman at the grocer who asks if I’m cooking for my boyfriend, to the stadium of people watching the “kiss cam” and to the man politely asking for my number at a crowded pub. Coming out is choosing to be honest, every day, and battling the fear of others’ responses.
I used to think that coming out was selfish, as if telling someone that I am attracted to women would only benefit me. It’s taken an immense amount of growth and education to believe in the power that standing together provides. Knowing the strength that I have now, I wish I had had faith in others sooner.
I grew up in a household that did not discuss sexuality in any form. We didn’t talk about relationships, or intimacy, and especially not about sex. Being the only girl, the gender expectations were enough to overwhelm me, let alone the differences I noticed in myself at a young age. My religious views told me homosexuality was a sin, and was best left unspoken.
When my friends began to develop crushes or dream of their perfect futures with a husband on a white ranch with kids and dogs, I failed to share that. I wasn’t sure what my future would hold, but I knew I didn’t want the same things. At 10 years old, I knew something about me was different.
When it came time to start dating, I once again felt no connection to the boys around me. I loved being around my friends, but I felt different from them. That scared the shit out of me. I thought: maybe I just didn’t understand. I had never been in love, never shared myself with someone, never had sex– so how did I know for sure?
And so I began dating my best friend. He made me laugh, was kind and generous, was adored by my family, and truly respected me. We made a great couple, and an even better team. For a while, I could forget my attraction towards women. Everyone was happy, and this life didn’t seem so bad.
My best friend knew me better than that, though. He sat down with me one day and asked if this was what I truly wanted. He said that I didn’t seem fulfilled, that if there was something I was missing in my life, I should go for it. It wasn’t until a year later and a few more attempts at heterosexual relationships that I finally understood.
The process was hard. I couldn’t state my sexuality in the mirror to myself, let alone to other people, and even less so to those who had known me my entire life. I spent hours crying to myself, journalling dreams that wouldn’t come true, and praying that I could be normal.
The problem with that was that I was normal. I am normal. Being queer does not make me abnormal.
I finally told a friend, and her acceptance encouraged more honesty. I needed a calm and quiet place for those closest to me, where I could tell my story and they could ask questions. I slowly began to feel more comfortable in my own skin, and began to rely on the support for this immensely powerful community. A community full of love and trust.
My family’s response is still difficult to handle today. They are scared for me, religiously and socially. I will always love them, but I take comfort in the encouragement I have received from others and hope one day they will share that same support.
Much like the rainbow that symbolizes the queer community, coming out can be an upward battle sometimes. There are times you may be scared shitless, and there are unfortunate times when people do not understand. But, there is growing education and knowledge to be supported and protected. With kindness, and with love, there will come a time when each person can love and be loved for who they are. And much more than there are negative responses, there are amazing and rewarding experiences, too.
Life surprises you.
The love of my life sits beside me, reading, hair a mess and glasses on, curled up under her favorite blanket and music in the background. I can look at her with no doubt in my mind that this is where I am meant to be. The discomfort and unrest that I felt as a child has settled.
I have found a home with a coalition of courageous, charitable, passionate people.
I am a gay woman.
I am out. I am proud. I stand by every human on their journey and hope that it is known how much they are loved.
I suppose my coming out story will never truly end. There will always be someone to tell, a situation that assumes I am straight. But I have faith that kindness prevails, and that each of us can be celebrated for our differences, rather than scared of them.
Each of us deserves love. And I can promise, if you give yourself to this community, they will give themselves to you, too.
Out Truly Is The New In.
I’m torn about telling my story. i hardly know what my story is because I’m still trying to find my truth but i know that there’s power within a community. In finding people who are like you, who understand you, and who accept you. I also know that by telling our stories, we affect change in greater ways than any of us can imagine.
So I want to be a part of that change and I want to give my voice in this growing wave of transformation.
I hope it’s heard.
The first time I thought I was gay, I couldn’t stop smiling.
I just walked around the house all day with an ear-splitting grin plastered to my face and thinking over and over again that “I like girls.”
I wanted to shout it out from the rooftops and tell everyone I knew and loved that I’d finally found a part of myself that was hidden for so long. I wanted to let them know that I’d regained a love for myself and rediscovered a love for others that I never knew existed. And that I felt complete.
I couldn’t contain it any longer than a couple days so i told my twin sister, and she rejoiced with me. We confided in each other about our own individual experiences with our sexualities and for so long she was the only one who knew. She was the only one who I’d trade jokes and secret knowing glances with when my aunts and uncles asked about a boyfriend. She was my rock when I’d have crushes and couldn’t help but gush about them; she was my safe space.
She was there for the joy in the beginning and she’s here for the heartbreak in the now. Even though we’re separated and hundreds of miles apart, she’s still here.
It’s been 43 days since I’ve come out and 42 since I’ve been kicked out of the house. When my mom found out, she said that she didn’t want a homosexual daughter and that love is sanctified between a man and a woman. To feel anything different is unnatural, unholy, and wicked.
The sad thing is, I used to believe that for the longest time about myself too, but it wasn’t until all of this that now i can confidently say that the way i love is beautiful. I’ve never felt anything more natural than loving women and i love it.
So through all of my couch-surfing, car-living, night-crying days, I can’t help but feel the weight lifted from my shoulders. I feel like i can finally breathe after all this time, and I’ve never felt more….liberated. By being able to live authentically, I’ve learned to not only love people in greater ways, but myself as well.
So I still don’t know where I’ll sleep tonight, or if i’ll be able to go home anytime soon, but one thing I know for certain is that I’m finally able to start living my truth.
