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 suppose you could also use the term lesbian to define me but I’ve never really felt comfortable with it due to the pornographic connotations. I am 17 and I realised when I was 13/14. I can’t remember the exact age or date which may be a surprise to some people because it is often viewed as a life changing event. For me, it wasn’t. It was a realisation, an extra part of myself which I hadn’t yet realised but I didn’t think it was a big deal. Quite a few people say that they knew from a young age but didn’t think it was something they should embrace but I honestly had no idea. I’d never met a gay person, nobody had ever mentioned gay people, or just anyone who wasn’t straight, to me or in my presence. I had no idea this was even a thing. It wasn’t like my parents were trying to hide it from me, it had just never been brought up. It wasn’t until I accidentally stumbled across some coming out videos on you tube that I realised. I’d felt the same way that they were describing but I’d just thought that was how everyone felt. I’d had many “boyfriends” when I was younger, I say “boyfriends” because none of them were ever real relationships after all I was only between the ages of 10 and 13. But that was just what you did, that was what everyone my age was doing so that’s what I was doing too, sure I’d found them attractive but I’d never been attracted TO any of them which was the big difference.
So after stumbling across these videos I began searching for them, absorbing everything that was being said, in particular I identified with Rose Ellen Dix’s video (if you want some good queer representation, her and her wife Rosie are absolutely adorable and they’re very funny). I discovered that I was gay and that was it. I didn’t see any issues with my identity because as I had not known about the LGBTQ+ community I had also not known if the struggles I could face, I was blissfully ignorant. I began telling my friends through sending them Ally Hill’s song for coming out with because honestly what a bop. I broke up with my boyfriend at the time, he seemed to take it very well and decided that I should tell my mum. I told her that I’d broken up with my boyfriend but that I wasn’t ready to her why yet. When I was, I wrote it on a chalkboard in my room and asked her to read it, and once she had she came and found me. Her first sentence was to ask if I was joking, when I said no she said I must be confused because I had realised I didn’t like my boyfriend and that I needed to rub it off of the chalkboard before my dad saw. She wanted to know if I’d told any of my friends and upon replying that had, she told me that I should tell them that I’m not gay, I was just confused about my feelings. Now I know this isn’t the worst thing to have said to you by a parent when you’ve just tried to come out to them, but I was 13 I didn’t know that this was an outcome that could’ve happened, I thought they wouldn’t care and now I was scared.
Now I faced the struggle that so many if us face. I began closing in on myself for a while, I was suddenly faced with a reality where everything wasn’t okay and there must be something wrong with me. It took a while before I decided that there was nothing wrong with me and I told my friends once more that I was gay, maybe this was just something I had to hide from my family, that was okay, I could do that. I made an Instagram account where I could follow other gay people and talk about tv programmes with gay characters etc without it being associated with my own account because being gay was now something to fear rather than be unbothered about.
At some point, I don’t know exactly when, my dad saw my phone whilst I was on it, he told my mum but didn’t say anything to me about it. A good few months after I’d tried to come out to my mum (probably closer to a year really) she’d been out drinking and I’d stayed up to say goodnight to her when she came home. She confronted me about what my dad had seen and wouldn’t let me leave until I’d told her that I was gay. As you can imagine, I was crying I was only 14 at this point and my main objective had been not slipping up in front off my parents so that they would find out, she kept telling me that it was okay but I honestly wanted the world to swallow me right then and there and this will probably always remain one of the worst feelings I’ve ever experienced. Both of these instances paint my mum in a very bad light but she’s actually a really lovely person, obviously we have our disagreements over things and certain topics but most people do. I used to hate the way she acted during both these instances but know I realise that she was just as inexperienced as I was, she was scared of what people would say and how they would act towards me, of how she was now supposed to act was she to be different? Or the same? I’ve forgiven her for these things, nobody is perfect and she is constantly working to be better. She told my dad what had happened and I think they had an argument over the way she’d acted. My dad has never had an issue with my sexuality and we seem to be closer now than we ever were.
As far as I know, all of my family members know. I say this because my mum told most of them, this may also seem like a bad thing to do to some people, like she had taken away my right to be able to do it myself but honestly, I prefer it this was. This whole experience gave me a fear of coming out to family members so I’m glad I never had to do it. I think I will always have some uncomfortable feelings talking to family members about being gay but it has gotten better as time as gone on so hopefully that means it will go away as I get older. My auntie found out last year after my mum had told her, she made a big fuss about how proud she was of me and I know that’s what some people want and need but it makes me feel so uncomfortable, probably due to the trauma created by my coming out but also because I’ve never felt like it was something that I needed to be brave about, something I needed to be proud of (not that I’m not proud of being gay) but it’s just a part of who I am and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the idea of that being something I need to be brave and proud about if you can understand what I’m trying to say.
A light-hearted coming out was when I told my brother, during the uncomfortable atmosphere that followed my 2nd coming out disaster it went as follows:
Him: “why are you being weird at the minute?”
Me: “I’m not being weird, you’re weird”
Him: “I know you’re gay you know”
Me: *internal freaking out* “who told you?”
Him: “oh I was joking but that’s cool”
After I’d finished freaking out, I really appreciated the easiness of the whole situation.
So to conclude what is a very long story (if you’ve made it this far, thank you for being interested in my life, I’ve nearly finished I promise) I’ve only actually come out about 9 times in my life, the rest is thanks to other people spreading it, including the boyfriend mentioned previously who told people that was the reason I’d broken up with him and lead to the whole school finding out, (it’s okay though, I’ve forgiven him too because we were young and he didn’t know any better). I know there are going to be so many small comings out in my life that I will easily lose track of the number of people that I’ve told and I will probably face some hard times from people who aren’t accepting of who I am, but I say bring it on because I’m happy with who I am and I’m ready to face anything that comes my way.
On a side note, I hope everyone is staying safe during this pandemic and that you’re all healthy and hopefully not facing any loss.
I grew up in a very conservative environment, where women are taught to aspire to have good grades and a good job just to impress people and lure the right man in to have a big jolly family… And that’s alright and fair… If it is what you really want, which is never true for most. These sort of expectations have one BIG thing missing… Where is the part about knowing thyself? Well that was basically me for the first half of my life.
All I knew was that I should be on the look out for this boy who would sweep me off my feet, lift me up from the ground and took me on his horse to a shinny happy ever after. And for that to happen I needed to be pretty, and girly, and not play ball with the other boys or act silly after a certain age, or speak out when I saw or heard something that I disagreed with… Basically be a slave to stereotypical standards… And I was great at it! Straight A student, shy and proper, church on Sundays’ great! (with the exception of Barbies… I still have no idea what’s the point of them)
Since I didn’t know anything else, I was OK with this reality. It was not until my bubble got burst, that I realized I was missing out.
In my early 20’s I had the chance to travel, and soon enough that shy, insecure girl started blooming. I was fortunate that life aligned the right people on my path, understanding, brave and genuine, that helped me grasp that all that I had conceived as “wrong” it wasn’t… It was just unknown.
It was incredible how fear was replaced with curiosity once those walls started to come down… I make it sound quite romantic but really my process was: go party, get drunk, have existential and trivial conversations at stupid hours of the night… But the important bit… It was all with the right people, with people different from me. That’s when I understood that everyone has a different path, essence and meaning, for themselves and for you.
One of these people was a girl… Chan Chan Chaaaaan.
At this point I had have relationships with boys, serious and… Not so serious (let’s leave it like that haha), but I was always looking for reasons not to stay with them, even if they were amazing; but with this girl I was instantly hooked, and it was not because of what she could give me (marriage, kids, economical solvence… whatever that means) it was because of her beautiful smile, stupid but histerical humour, her support, I even found adorable when she was being a brat… Yep… I was done…and somehow… she felt something for me too… And the rest is history…
Not the right kind of history because we didn’t end up together haha Buuuut that was when I realized that I didn’t care what the wrapping was, I loved the content, I love discovering what is inside of people, what drives them and motivates them and more importantly, finding that satisfaction for discovery in myself, the more I learn from people, the more I know myself and the more is to learn. We are in constant change, evolution and flow.
Today, I am not in a good spot, I have fallen again into trivialities and vanities that don’t make me happy. But writing about this, makes me smile, and I am motivated to continue this journey that brightened my soul.
I am a Queer woman. I fall for passionate and calm, for intriguing and simple, for silly and mature, for anything that knows how to love.
When I was around 13, I started identifying as a lesbian. I didn’t struggle with it internally. But I did worry about telling others. I don’t know why. I knew my friends would be accepting. But I guess I worried word might get out and school kids can be unkind sometimes about that sort of thing. Thankfully, word never got out. I told my friends one by one, some face to face, some over text and one I told through a game of truth or dare. It made it a little more lighthearted to make it into a game. However, fast forward 10 years and I’ve discovered a lot more about myself in that time. Things have changed. About a year ago I started realising I really don’t want a relationship, with anyone of any gender. I realised I feel really strong platonic love, but that’s really as far as I can go, and it’s as far as I want to go. I worried for ages there was something wrong with me, and I started searching all sorts of things on the internet to try and find an answer. I came across a site that talked about asexuality and aromanticism and I instantly identified with those terms. I don’t feel sexual or romantic attraction, and now that I realise that’s completely fine and I’m not the only one, I feel so content, happy and secure in myself. To tell people I’m asexual and aromantic, I just wrote out a big paragraph in my notes on my phone, screenshot it, and posted it to Twitter. I didn’t want to go through the process of telling everyone over again and having all the questions, which I don’t mind, but I wanted to try and answer everything as best as I could in the note. I had an outpouring of support from everyone and it was a really beautiful moment. I even had other asexuals and/or aromantics getting in touch saying they felt the same way initially, that something was wrong with them. It makes me so sad that a lot of us felt that way. But I’ll always be vocal about my sexuality so others can become aware of it, and hopefully if they’re having those feelings too, then they’ll know they’re not alone.
Thank you for letting me share. Love to everyone x
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
