Community Rainbow Waves

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

My story, Flora

Looking back I think I always asked myself about my sexuality.

As soon as in primary school, I remember having a crush on a classmate. Of course at the time, having no idea what it meant and no representation to lean on, I just thought maybe I just wanted her to be my friend, or maybe I wanted to be her, I was confused, kept it a secret and repressed it.

Later, in middle school and high school, my friends started dating, and I felt unmoved by that but at the same time I started asking myself loads of questions. Why wasn’t I attracted to boys the way they were? I craved a relationship though, and when the chance presented I had my first time with a man I met during a trip. I remember feeling very bad after the did. Don’t take me wrong, I wanted it to happened, I thought the guy looked nice and he was very gentle and respectful. But it didn’t feel right, and I wasn’t expecting that.

I had my first “serious” boyfriend soon after. I was in my early 20s. We could spend hours talking, we really got along. But then again the intimate parts seemed off to me. I remember asking myself more and more questions, and being torn apart between the fact that I wanted to be like “everyone” and have a boyfriend, and the fact that deep down I started to feel sure that I wasn’t attracted to men. But I kept finding excuses, maybe he just wasn’t “the one”.

I started to find lesbian representation on TV shows. It became almost an obsession at times. I spent a monstrous amount of time watching and rewatching some scenes, fanvids, reading content on forums etc. I can’t explain it. I had personal issues yes, but a loving and open family nonetheless and the best friends someone could ask for. But I kept all my questioning to myself and spent hundred of hours on the digital world were I felt safe, like I belong.

A few years after that, I met the man who would become my second and last boyfriend. He was the best : funny, ecologically responsible, handsome, smart and so, so nice. But once again it didn’t “click”. I adored him but I knew deep down that I could never love him. After some time, I couldn’t take it anymore and got separated. I hurt him and it was for me so awful and relieving at the same time.

A couple of months after that, I came out as a lesbian to my friends and family. They were all very accepting.

What took me so long I then asked myself, why did I just lost years trying to build relationships with men when I knew very well I was attracted to women? I had known all along that my loved ones wouldn’t reject me. I was the one that rejected me. Because I wanted to be like “everyone”. Because I was scared of what other people could think. Because I felt ashamed. That’s what internalized homophobia and lack of LGBT+ representation as a kid did to me. A lack of courage also maybe.

Sure, nowadays we have more representation in movies and so on. But I feel we don’t have enough. Not because I want to make everything “gay” like some criticize sometimes – I realize that sadly we’re a minority, but because I wish for all the kids out there to grow up in a world where it’s “normal” to be LGBT+, and never feel like they’re abnormal or alone. I want sexuality to become a non-question, I want to stop feeling uncomfortable when someone I don’t know assume I have a boyfriend as if it is the only option I have.

I understand why this issue seems so insignificant for some. Because there are so many problems in the world right now. And I agree with that, but I would say let’s take one fight at a time, and it’s much more important than it seems.

I’m in my late 20s now. I’ve only had one longtime girlfriend who showed me sex can and should feel good. I don’t have the happiest love life right now but it feels so good to accept my preferences and who I am.

That’s my story. Make of that what you will.

I live life my way

Hello, my name is Maria G. I come from a Catholic home. I am the second of three sisters and one brother (the youngest). I had a frustrating adolescence when I wanted to open the closet door. Although my family was not homophobic, I was afraid to face it. Since I was 9 years old I focused on sports (archery and athletics) it helped me a lot, it was my escape, my work, my everything, it kept me busy, traveling, meeting people, socializing but I never dared to open up to anyone. The first person I told was my sister Carolina the 3rd she was 18 years old and I 26 Wow! However I am one of those who thinks that our life, we should manage it ourselves, not because I won’t tell people it wasn’t “free”. Before coming clean with me I tried to have boyfriends, but not to pretend anything with my family, but because I had the need to be loved, to have someone give me love, affection, since in my home it was a constant and resounding fight. I had 3 boyfriends between 15 and 19 years old that didn’t last 3 months and I hid from them because I didn’t really feel anything, but it was nothing hahaha…
At 23 years old I came out of the closet when I started playing handball. It turns out that there were two sides there, the Heteroes and the Gays. I was very innocent, I only realized which side I was on after I came out of the closet. I started to get to know my teammates, I adapted easily to the team, although I am introverted and I usually integrate well with people. Well on the 2nd side, the Gays were wondering if I was or wasn’t hahaha… one of them started to seduce me this little flower showed its colorful petals… at first it was like an internal struggle to accept me. The worst thing that happened to me during this time, was once I took this “friend” home, my father was traveling with my brothers, only my mother was home, she had a foot in a cast from a fall. It was already late, I assumed that my mother was asleep, the door to my room was between open because my parents did not like us to close the doors of the rooms; my “friend” and I began to kiss, suddenly I heard a noise outside, we separated immediately, I got up, checked and saw my mother “asleep”. I went to bed, nothing else happened, everyone slept, but my head was turning, the next morning my suspicions were confirmed, my mom was acting strange, she avoided me, I did the same and I went with “my friend” to the university. In the afternoon my mother called me and told me that if I could go home early she needed to talk to me. I got home at 5pm and there she was waiting for me to talk… wow! My heart was pounding into a hole in my chest, it was pounding that I thought it was going to come out. We sat down, she told me what she saw and asked me the question, not before telling me that she was going to accept whatever decision I made, that I was her daughter and she loved me above all things, my heart was beating stronger and stronger, there was a silence, she was waiting for my answer, everything was going through my head, I felt nauseous, Dizzy, it was a horrible moment I thought hours had passed, but not a minute had passed, and the moment my mouth was going to pronounce a YES I am Gay, I changed my answer and said NO, I was confused, my mother looked at me, knelt down in front of me, grabbed me by the legs and said these words: Thank you God, because I thought I had lost my daughter. Wow! At that moment I was in shock. Even though she told me she loved me above all else, the fact that I had confirmed to her that I was gay was going to destroy her inside, and my father had already done too much damage for me to sink her any further. The days went by, although I continued with my friends, I didn’t bring anyone else into the house, I stayed out of the house. These words marked me forever, even today. After telling my sister Carola, I told my father years later, it didn’t cost me anything to tell him, my father was more open with me than my mother was. After that I have not told anyone else. I have always been an independent person, I have made my life to my liking, in my own way, although my family has been a great support, I have always made my own decisions about each of the steps I take, I have never consulted anyone about anything, I only comment when I have made the decision, I do not like that they interfere or manipulate what I want, so that is why I decided to make my life without caring what they think or say. When I was 25 I moved from the West to the East of the country, I left because a handball team signed me to play with them. I had a freedom that I had never felt before, I lived alone, already graduated from Lcda in Education, without rules, without tense looks, new faces, another culture, less reserved, it was a 100% change, that was coming out of the closet. I began to experiment, imagine it when I was 26 years old. At the age of 27 I met a girl 7 years younger than me, through sport her name is Rosme and was my first serious relationship, my first partner as such! We lasted 4 years, after a year of relationship we got married, it was a ceremony on the beach, but it was because of Santeria, native beliefs of the region. After a year and a few months she got pregnant, not from me in that we agree hahaha… it was a strong situationeee the day I found out it was from comics. She started with pain in her belly and we went early to the doctor, the doctor attended to her and I stayed in the office but withdrew, so that the doctor did not see my face when she gave me the news; the doctor made the echo and asked me: what are you of her? Immediately I answer: her cousin, not to hide it but so that she could not see my face. The doctor said: She is only pregnant, she is 3 months old… my jaw hit the floor and Rosme covered her face with her hand, I took a deep breath, I controlled myself, I thanked the doctor for her attention and I left the office with a cloudy mind. Rosme came out behind me, not knowing what to say, so she spoke to me and I told her: don’t say anything, please, the only thing I’m telling you is not to have an abortion, have the baby and if you don’t want it, I’ll adopt it, but don’t kill it, because then I’ll hate you all my life. We continued walking, we arrived home, I asked him for space, to let me breathe. She had no one else to support her, so I took responsibility. I had always wanted to be a mother, but since I don’t like men, I didn’t have money for an artificial insemination. I told her I only supported her because of the baby, if it was a boy, but I made it a condition that she would not separate me from the baby, that she would allow me to be part of her life for ever. The child’s father only gave her his last name, since he was a married man. When he was born it was like that light that completely fills the void, it was an inexplicable happiness, it was an angel, it is my angel. Rosme asked me to forgive her, with time and the pregnancy I forgave her, we continued together, she asked me to name the baby: his name is Gabriel Moses. From his first day he illuminated my life, seeing him was the most beautiful thing God could create. Wow! I became a mother, I worked, trained and raised Gabriel, who I did not love, so when I was able to take him out for a walk I took him everywhere, whether it was the three of us or just him and me. I felt complete. Later Rosme and I separated, at the beginning of the breakup it was horrible the treatment, although Gabriel practically raised him, she was very absent “experimenting”, with the passage of time she stabilized got a good person and our treatment was improving especially for the good of Gabriel, for his stability. Today Gabo is already 10 years old, I can say that he is a wonderful, noble child, he is my life. After my relationship with Rosme 7 years ago, I had two more relationships but they were not lasting. I believe that with Rosme I learned a lot, I matured a lot and my self-esteem was reinforced a lot. Today I don’t have a partner but I am calm and emotionally stable. Although it takes a lot to be loved, it takes more to love yourself to feel fulfilled.

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.

Love Conquers ALL

I was quite young when I started to realise that I didn’t love in the same way as my friends or most of the people around me. Growing up I had never really felt like I fit in – there always felt like there was something, perhaps a part of me, that was missing or undiscovered.

When I was around 13 years old, thanks to social media and other resources that exposed me to a whole community of kind, loving and accepting people, I started to view myself and the feelings I felt differently. At first, I was absolutely petrified of who I was; one of the memories I remember most was lying in my bed crying and whispering to myself over and over again ‘I’m not gay, I don’t like girls.’

Thankfully, I came to the realisation that it was okay to like girls and to be gay. In June 2016, I came out to my friends on Twitter as bisexual. I stuck with this label for almost two years because it felt ‘okay’. I still felt like it wasn’t correct but it sure as hell felt a lot better than trying to convince myself that I was straight.

The first time I came out to somebody in my ‘real life’ was in April 2018. She was one of my best friends and we were out at a park doing a photo shoot for one of my photography projects. We ended up staying on the park swings for about 3 hours, just talking about sexuality and my experience and such. This was the first time that I had said that I didn’t actually know what I wanted to label myself as, I just knew that I liked girls (and that I liked them a lot more than boys).

In June 2018, exactly 2 years after I first came out on Twitter as bi, I came out again, but this time as a lesbian. It was one of the most freeing feelings I have ever felt because, FINALLY, I could identify as something that made me feel authentic and true to myself. It took me a while to feel fully comfortable with the label because of the bad rap the label is given as it is fetishised by the porn industry. But today I can easily, and happily, announce that I am a lesbian and that I am proud of that.

Throughout the 2 years since coming out to my friend in 2018, I have come out to so many more people. Old friends from secondary school (actually, most of my whole year group from secondary school through a post to my Instagram Story) and new friends from sixth form.

But the most recent person that I came out to is the one that makes me proudest. In February of this year (2020), I came out to my older sister. I couldn’t say the words out loud so I just sent her a link to a YouTube video of a ‘coming out’ song that somebody had made for this particular situation. I sobbed and she held me close when we hugged. She told me that she loved me and that she didn’t care who I loved. I can’t remember if she said so or not, but I know that she is proud of me.

The only other family member that knows is one of my cousins of the same age but I know that one day I will be able to fully be myself in front of all of my family and that this is only the beginning.

As part of the LGBTQ+ community, we are always coming out. Whether 2 days down the line or 10 years. Even so, the feeling of relief and joy that we experience when we tell somebody who accepts it without question is something that I will never forget or take for granted.

As I said at the start; I don’t love in the same way as my friends or a lot of the people around me. But that’s okay because love is complex and it comes in so many different forms. And every single one of them is beautiful. Because love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love.

I finally feel like I fit in somewhere. I have finally found the missing jigsaw pieces that make me, ME.

I am a lesbian, I love girls.
But, most importantly, I am ME.

-Lily

#Loveislove #LoveConquersALL

Natália

Hi, everybody!
My name is Natalia from Brazil. I’m a Portuguese Language Teacher! My relationship with my sexuality has always been stifled. I never liked to talk about it with anyone, not even during adolescence. When I was a kid my mom repressed me a lot about it, I grew up with no desire to relate to anyone at all.
It was never a problem to be like this, but I felt strange in front of my friends and family.
It is important to say that I was born in a family that was “more open” than the traditional families in Brazil. Definitely, Brazil is a very conservative and authoritarian country in some issues, especially as of 2018, despite the plurality of our population.
Another point is that in Brazil there is not much representativeness. An impacting data is: Brazil is one of the countries that kills homosexuals the most, but, it is also in the leadership in audience on LGBTQI+ porn sites.
To recap: at the end of 2020, while on vacation, I started to reflect on who I am. This is so recent. Sometimes I feel afraid. I am in a daily discovery and hope to get there. Discovering Start The Wave is being a relief.
Thank you all so much. !!!!

I’m bisexual

I am bisexual but when I came out of the closet with my parents they didn’t accept it so I had to tell them to “change” but luckily I have people who love me and who support me no matter who I am and encourage me to never stop being who I am.

Rachel N.

I knew I was queer from a young age. I remember watching Willow’s journey on Buffy and seeing that on screen just felt right. But I was young, and terrified of that feeling. I grew up in a city in Massachusetts, went to church every Sunday with my family, sang in the choir, went to CCD and was searching for a strong connection with my faith. At times I found it, but other times, I felt like I just didn’t fit there. As I grew up, I became more obsessed with the feelings I was having about my sexuality. I would stay up all night looking up things like “how do you know if you’re gay” and on message boards trying to find people who might feel the same way I do. Middle school and high school was hard. My friends were talking about cute boys and “hot” male actors. But I liked the female actors, and I didn’t think the senior on the soccer team was the most attractive thing on two legs. But I pretended I did. And honestly, there were a few boys I thought were really nice and cute, and I would talk about them. But in reality, I was much more interested in the senior girl that played soccer. But I couldn’t admit that; to my friends or myself. These feelings of being different and knowing my sexuality wasn’t status quo ate at me for a long time. I ended up coming out my senior year in high school….via twitter…..to impress a girl. (it wasn’t the best idea. I wasn’t ready, and my friends weren’t ready to talk about it with me). Honestly, it just made me feel like even more of a freak, and in that time where I am suppose to be happy and finding myself, I lost myself more and more. And it took a long time to get back to the person I knew I was. Ten years later, I’m still not there.
About a year after that I came out to my parents (again to impress a girl, I wasn’t ready), over the phone on a cold night in February. They weren’t exactly thrilled. It came out of nowhere and they didn’t really know what to do with the information. And honestly, neither did I. We didn’t talk about it more than twice. The first time my dad told me to keep this to myself, and the second, when my mom told me not to tell people when I went to study abroad in Ireland. I talked about it a little bit with one of my sisters, but never felt fully safe to with the other because she would always make homophobic jokes and comments, specifically to the lesbain community.
For most of my life since coming out, my sexuality was looked at as something to mention or comment, not to accept or embrace. And that made learning how to love myself and feeling like I am worthy of love quite difficult. I spent almost every weekend in college black out, or close to that drunk trying to find someone who might find me pretty enough to kiss or have sex with. I didn’t care who it was, I just wanted to feel something or fit in. For years, no one found me pretty enough. No one wanted to love me. There were a few times someone kissed me or went to bed with me. But no one who wanted to let it be known. I was always a secret. And all through college, when I was suppose to be finding myself and figuring out who I was and where I fit, I spent getting drunk and absolutely hating myself. And trying not to let anyone know how deeply these feeling were.
When I was a senior in college I got my first girlfriend. Finally, someone who wanted to love me, someone who was willing to tell other people that she loved me. We played on the soccer team together and although our relationship was brief, I am so thankful for it. It was the first time I believed that someone could love me and all my weird. After we broke up, I didn’t feel that way anymore, but it got better. After years of working on it, she has come to be one of my best friends. We both agree we never should have dated, we are WAY better as friends. But I am thankful for that special time we shared. About a year after that relationship, I fell Wildly in love with a beautiful woman who was just coming into her bisexuality. We started dating and almost 5 years later we are now engaged. By allowing myself to be loved and finding a safe space to grow I finally feel safe enough to step into my truth.

What I have come to realize is that I spent SO long trying to fit in, trying to make sure I had pretty friends, and accepting that I was just the fat ugly queer friend that they kept in their circle for good measure that I never learned who I was and what I wanted to do with my life. Now, after cutting off ties with people who made me feel like shit, and having a supportive partner who supports me in everything that I attempt and explore I am starting to let myself be free. I am starting to allow myself to love me. I still struggle with it. I am more unkind than kind to myself. But I am working on it. I am learning to love my queer self and letting all my colors show.

Woman, lesbian, polyamorous

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.)

Bisexual

I didn’t grow up with much role models or people who understood what it meant to be part of the LGBTQIA community. Coming from both a religious and hispanic background it’s not something that’s easily seen or accepted. I was 14 when I had my first boyfriend, I really liked him and I was sure that my journey would continue to go straight as planned or how my family expected, but, not every relationship is meant to last. When I turned 15 I was a sophomore in high-school and I had developed feelings for my then best friend. It took three attempts for her to finally want to go out with me, talk about a challenge! It’s high-school and we were young but, it was my first true experience with love or the concept of falling in love. I knew I was bisexual from the moment I realized that I was attracted to both men and women.

Fast Forward to my 2nd year in college 2016, I came out to my super religiously Catholic mom. It was hard probably one of the hardest experiences of my life because I knew she wouldn’t accept it. But I needed to accept it, it needed to feel real and I needed to live my truth. Presently, it’s been four years and my mom still struggles with who I am and who I choose to love. I know some people find it difficult yet, I love my family, it’s hard to change the mindset of people who were raised and exposed to things a certain way, I don’t blame her for not accepting me. But I am very hopeful she will come around, our relationship isn’t the greatest but then again my mother is 65 years old and I’m going to be 24 this year, we’re different souls from different times and that’s ok.

I’m truly at peace with who I am and I know patience is key, accepting myself is and was the first step to my ongoing journey. Going back to what I said earlier, I didn’t grow up with representation or role models, in fact I might be the first openly bisexual member of my family, and I have quite a big family, I’m the youngest of five. Wynonna Earp wasn’t just a show that let me feel represented as a member of the LGBTQIA, but, it’s also a show where there’s a badass female lead and badass female casts, and it represents freedom. The writing is freeing and provides relief the actresses and actors are so refreshing and I’m proud to say that this is the first time I feel apart of something even if physically I’m not, if that makes sense. I’m free. I just hope that someone managed to read all this and feels apart of something great, because you are great, you are loved, and you are beautiful. Live freely, life’s to short not to.