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

Katrina, 29, queer- CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT DEPRESSION.

I was thirteen when I first remember becoming aware that I was in some way different to my female friends. While they giggled and whispered about which boys they liked I noticed that I did not feel the same. I reasoned that it was likely because I found the boys immature and annoying; or perhaps I was too focused on my learning to pay them much attention, or perhaps I was a late bloomer. Whatever the reason I chose not to think too much about it.

At fifteen the devastatingly crushing realisation that I might be gay hit me. I say devastatingly crushing because up until then my understanding of the term gay was that it was only ever used as an insult. It was a label thrown around by bullies against the bullied, and it was something you actively avoided being called. I did not want to be gay. However, here I was at fifteen watching a channel 4 documentary about a family based in the city I grew up in, and it was while watching this documentary that I realised the only reason I watched every week was because I thought one of the family members was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. This realisation forced me to reflect on past behaviours and I quickly realised that when watching TV or movies I paid all my attention to the actresses rather than the actors. When idolising singers, I favoured female singers more then male. All this time I convinced myself that it was because I found them talented and relatable, and although that is true, I also couldn’t deny that I found them ridiculously attractive, something I never thought about when it came to men. So, at fifteen I realised that I might be gay. At fifteen I also realised that I needed to hide this part of me at all costs.

I had nobody in my circle of friends or family that were gay, nobody I could look up to as a healthy and real example of what it meant to be gay. The only thing I had was childhood insults and barely any TV/movie representation. Even as recent as 2005/6, LGBTQ+ media representation in the UK was viewed as a salacious thing, something for post-watershed TV that guaranteed to draw in hundreds of complaints if shown and so hardly ever was. I was petrified of what it meant to be anything other then straight, and so began the years of secrecy, self-hatred and nightly prayers for ‘straightness’. It was during this time that I resented the phrase “people choose to be gay” because it was bullshit. I actively chose to be straight for all my late teenage years, I chose to date men, I chose to kiss men, I chose to ignore the screaming voices in my head and feelings in my body that told me that kissing boys felt unnatural and forced. Everything in that time of my life felt unnatural and forced and the constant lies about who I was and what I really wanted started to take its toll.

I remember at seventeen my dad asking me whether I was gay and the reaction my body had to that question was overwhelming; my heart began racing and I started sweating as the fear caused me to adamantly deny that I was anything other than straight. Later that night I cried myself to sleep because in lying to him I had once again closed that door on my cage when there was a chance of being free. I vowed that the next time somebody asked that question I would be honest, I was too afraid to just come out and say it but next time I was asked I’d not lie. I didn’t realise it would be another four years until I was asked again.

By the time I was twenty-one the weight of this burden that I’d been carrying since fifteen (even earlier in retrospect), was so heavy that it had started to affect my mental health. I was dealing with depression, anxiety, deep shame and self-hatred. I still didn’t want to be gay but six years of pretending to be straight and praying to be straight had shown me that this identity was sticking around whether I wanted it to or not. And so, at 21 years old, and while stood in the kitchen with my dad, he asked me again whether I was hiding anything. I think he had sensed my unhappiness in the way only a parent can and was trying to find out what was causing his eldest daughter to be sad. He asked me again whether I was gay. It was clear to me then that my dad likely knew for almost as long as I did about my truth, why else would he ask me the same question twice four years apart. This time I ignored the racing heart, and dry mouth and choking sensation and I said “yeah, I think I am”.

I can’t put into words the relief that moment gave me, as adrenaline coursed through my body I immediately felt lighter. Somebody else knew my secret and the weight of it was shared. My dad was amazing about it, told me he loved me and that it never mattered to him who I loved as long as I was happy and healthy. I always knew deep down that this would be his reaction and I was relieved to find out I was right.

Regardless of whether we think our parents will be accepting doesn’t necessarily matter. It’s the fear that what if you misjudged them and their reaction, what if unknowing to you your parents held strict views against LGBTQ+ people and were disgusted and disappointed in you. The fear that I didn’t know my parents at all was what kept me closeted all those years, the fear of losing their love was enough for me to hide who I was if that’s what it took. I’m lucky that my family were accepting and loving, i know of others that weren’t as lucky. I’m almost 30 now and it’s been 9 years since I came out. I won’t lie, I’m still not fully free from the shame of being gay, I still have trouble coming out to new people or openly showing affection with a partner in public. This shame is something I recognise and that I’m working on overcoming and it does get easier as time goes on. I’m just happy to be free from that cage.

Lesbian

I know I was a lesbian at age 12. I didn’t come out til I was 26. I grew up in a catholic family and being gay was not ok. I hide my true self for many years because of it. I came out to a close friend one night over drinks while getting ready fir a singing contest. I will be forever grateful to her. She loved me for me and without judgment. My family didn’t handle my coming out well. They are not apart of my life because of who I am. I have been very lucky to have great friends and family of choice who love me. I also live in a city that is very accepting and has a large LGBTQ+ community. I work at a LGBTQ+ safe space coffee house and mentor young queers, loving and supporting them over coffee.

“The Waverly In Me”

So, here it goes.

I can’t really remember the exact moment when I found I was “different”. But, I knew at some point of high school I realized that something in me was pretty much diverted from what the society perceives as “right”.

At first it scared me. I knew for a fact that I like boys. But at the same time, get attacted to girls. I was starting to get frightened about the fact that I’m slowly being pulled towards a kind of liking that my conservative, Catholic family wouldn’t like.

So, I made sure I supressed whatever “bad” feelings I was experiencing then. I made sure to be in a relationship with what is “conventional”.

That was in high school, and later my first two years in college. I was In and out of relationships with “boys”. I was trying my best to cure whatever it is that’s bugging me for years, and years now.

Ironically, the medicine I thought would help me was just making everything worse. I ruined friendships. I ruined myself. I was slowly being devoured by the very thing I thought would save me.

Now when I graduated from college, I persude my passion in teaching Literature. I became a teacher, and met the love of my life; a girl. But, the thing is, I was never out. And that every unwanted feeling that I’ve been hiding for a decade suddenly surfaced because of her.

We became a couple. It was a secret. A beautiful secret but by the time we were about to celebrate our first year anniversary, things went downhill.

One of my colleagues outed me. She saw our texts, and she outed me to our principal. I didn’t know what to do then. I was called to his office, and gave me an ultimatum. You see, this school is a sectarian school. Grounded by traditional rules. In short, if you’re a girl, who’s into both genders, and has a girlfriend, you out.

I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. And I made the stupidest decision; I boke up with my love. And it was terrible.

All these feelings, I kept them all in the dark til I watched Wynonna Earp. I’ve always cried during that scene where Waverly’s aunt tells here that there surprises that come our way, in what, or who we meet. Right there and there I knew, I was not alone.

In the character of Waves, I felt at home. I realized I wasn’t alone. That what I feel, that fear of being judged, is normal.

My ex is currently happy with her new girlfriend,. And, I am happy for her too.

As for me, I am just happy that I am not alone in this battle.

To be able to fall in love with anyone, regardless of their gender, their social standing, how they look, how they talk.

I guess, the best way to end this confession is by telling everyone that when we love, we love. That’s that.

Love is love. No matter what.

This is me.

I am QUEER af.

And I’m out.

Nat

I started to realize and accept my feelings toward girls in middle school. I had just come out of a very stressful living situation and, since my brain didn’t have anything else to ruminate on, it turned to the girl that welcomed me into my new community. I spent the next several weeks v e r y confused and ended up texting my best friend to ask for help. I explained what I was feeling and she said that it was okay. She said I didn’t need a label to be worthy.

That was maybe five years ago. Now I’m a gay woman who is out to her family and is in a serious relationship. But that doesn’t mean it’s easier. I still get looks in the hallways for kissing my girlfriend. We still get scolded by administrators for laying our heads on each other’s shoulders. My family is tentatively accepting, but I know they’re uncomfortable. But I don’t let that stop me. I still hold my girlfriend and kiss her in the hallway. I still tell her that I love her. Because I do. And this is a part of who I am. And no one will ever take that away from me.

A human that can’t pick a label

I knew that I was different when I started to have a crush on someone that in society would deem abnormal/not under social norms. If I was straight, it would not be weird if i had a crush on a male teacher, honestly people would have praised it and would have said that was normal. But as a female having a crush on a female teacher, that would be what some may call weird or disgusting just because I am a female. I am a feminine female, i love wearing dresses, make up and what you would consider “girly things”.Having a Christian/Anglican upbringing I didn’t see people or a person I could relate to growing up. My brain has battles with itself; when i was in junior school (5-12yrs old) I had crushes on many boys, I could relate to my friends but as i started entering high school, I couldn’t relate to my friends much anymore because i was not only interested in boys; i was interested in girls too and by the time i was 15 i saw someone that i could relate to on TV. Even though i saw representation, my head was still filled with battles about labeling my sexuality, so i can just come out and be me. I was telling myself that Bisexuality is what I am because I am attracted to both male and female; but it did not feel right having that label. I was not comfortable about that label. Then looked up quizzes for what my sexuality was. Most of them just said I was curious, honestly i felt offended. I’ve always said that people deserve to be loved and to love someone other than themselves. I found the term Queer and Pansexual I said, I related to both equally. But I just don’t feel like a label fits me. I just love love and want to feel loved and be loved. That’s all that should matter.

I am a transgender man.

I grew up very clueless about anything lgbtq+, but even then I got lucky enough to have a mother that didn’t push me to be or feel any certain way, so when I was old enough to form my own sense of self I 100% knew-or at least I though I did. From the age of 11 I identified as a lesbian and felt confident in my identity. I had used YouTube and tumblr to find out things on my own and come to a firm sense of “yes this is me.” I told my mother not long after and, she to no surprise, was loving and supportive. I lived, identifying as a lesbian until I was 16, but something never felt right. I began high school at 14, kept most of my childhood friends, and even started a relationship with an amazing girl! But not long after, the discomfort in myself grew and grew until I was so uncomfortable in my own skin that it left me locked in my bedroom. The discomfort had always been there ever since I was a child, but I had always ignored it-so it confused me as to why it was getting unbearable now. I once again turned to YouTube and tumblr for help. I did my own research, and heard people’s stories-they gave a words to put to a feeling. It was a realization of “I feel like that too.” I wasn’t a lesbian, but a man. All of my discomfort and hatred of the thought of looking down in the shower, and fear of going out in public finally had a word, transgender. My girlfriend was the first to know, she loved and supported me. She was patient when there were days when I couldn’t be touched. She helped me test out a few different names. A couple months go by and I come out a second time to my mom. She was again loving as supported (and also not surprised). She bought me my first binder, and she tried(s) her very best to use he/him or gender neutral pronouns. I am now 19 and starting my journey to hormone replacement therapy. I got so lucky to have such a strong support system. My story is a very positive one and I am forever grateful for my mom, my friends, and my girlfriend.

Thank you for reading my story 🙂

A girl who loves loving girls

I was 12 when I realised that it wasn’t necessarily that I wanted to BE certain girls, but that I wanted to be WITH those girls. The first time I said the words out loud, it was to my dog…best friend I ever had and least judgemental soul I knew. Perfect way to start. The second time, I didn’t tell them, they told me? My childhood best friend. Girl noticed more than I gave her credit for. I’ll always remember the way she phrased it… ‘when are you gonna tell me who you love?’, it wasn’t forceful, the tone she used, it was knowing and full of warmth…I think we were 14. The relief I felt after that conversation left me physically shaking, I felt so free and determined. It only grew from there, I told my best friends, close friends, classmates and family. Not every reaction was good, but most of the people who loved me took the time to understand, now they’re more likely to shout it from the rooftops than I am. Some didn’t, but I’m hopeful they’ll come round. The most important thing for me, is that I am confident in who I am, and that I have an amazing group of people around me who love me, no matter what. I was in my first year of high school when I started to even entertain the idea I might be a lesbian, and I was terrified. Now, I’m 18 and just finished my first year of university. I am not afraid anymore, I’m just proud.

Queer Cultured Woman

My entire life I was raised to be independent and Culturally open to everyone around me. As an African-American I can state that, we are “open” to everything/one but not really “everything” as I modestly like to put it.

Being born A Haitian-American female was A defining factor in determining my sexuality. The cultural restrictions made me feel blocked, lost, and burdensome to my family. I was fortunate enough to have a family that loved me regardless, which in my community is VERY RARE.
My mom like Dominique, is my ROCK.
I have been blessed with a family that supports my love regardless whom that maybe with.

I self identify as a (Queer-Cultured Woman) for all of the young QUEER brown girls who have never felt they could come out. Especially, in my country of Haiti.

(you WILL survive, you will find happiness, you will become whole)

I was 18 when I first fell in love.
I am 28 today, with so much more now!
I have experienced so much more of life,
I am so optimistic for the future with huge thanks to this forum and Dominique

Today, I am making another “WAVE” by telling MY story. For the first time.
“OUT IS THE NEW IN

Lesbian

I have two different coming out stories. My public coming out was a lot sooner than coming out to family. My public coming out happened in college. At the time I wanted to identify as bisexual. I didn’t want to classify myself fully a lesbian and stuck to the safe choice (in my mind) of labeling myself as bisexual. My thought process was that as long as I also like men then I can find some way to relate to my peers.

That all changed Fall semester 2006 of my freshmen year in college. See the thing about me is that I’m afraid to step out of my comfort zone. I don’t like to put myself out there for fear of being awkward or saying something wrong. So with that in mind. My normal M.O. being to hide, I signed up for a religious retreat. Oh, I forgot to mention I was going to a Catholic university in good ole New Orleans, La.

Anyhoo, I signed up for the retreat and ended up going for a full weekend in October. I didn’t know what to expect. Well, I had my assumptions of being told that my feelings are wrong and that I couldn’t be who I was and that God thinks I’m a sinner. All these negative things.

I’m so glad I was way off. That weekend I went on a journey of love and acceptance of myself. It was so profound to meet strangers and see their love and acceptance of me shining in their eyes.

I remember there was a moment in the retreat where the newbies like myself had to close our eyes and trust fellow peers to guide us and shower us with hugs and dancing. It sounds so wacky but it’s probably the most profound feeling of love from complete strangers. The fact that we had to put trust in strangers and in return got shown unconditional love? That to me was unheard of. But the message was received. I may not be able to see my creator, but know that the person you are and the person that is seen is soooooo loved. It blew me away a but it was in that moment I could let go of my past labels and truly embrace me as who I am.

There were so many other parts in that weekend that solidified how loved I am for just being me. After that weekend I came out. To all my friends. People knew I was a lesbian and they accepted me. Ironically, I became heavily involved in the ministry at my university because I wanted others to feel that love I felt and that they could find someone they could relate to. I met my best friends there and I wouldn’t trade it. It helped me live my truth at least outside my home life.

My coming out to my family was rough. I’m Hispanic and my mom is a single mother that raised three awesome kids. She’s an immigrant and was raised with very strict ideals of marriage and life. Since I was the baby I could do no wrong.

That changed when I came out at 22. I was in graduate school in another state. I had just had my first real heart break and called my mom crying. She thought I was pregnant. Nope. Mama, I’m a lesbian. She was hurt. Hurt because she couldn’t understand why I turned out the way I did. Hurt because that’s not the life she wanted for me. She didn’t talk to me for a week.

But after that she slowly started talking to me. She wouldn’t bring it up and for a long time she couldn’t deal. But I got help from someone. My sister helped her see so many things I couldn’t express.

See my mom is a stubborn woman and set in her ways. But she actually opened her mind for me. She had a very strict mindset and no one could really change her mind about things. But she did for me. She opened her mind. She accepted me. My siblings didn’t care.

But my extended family is a different story. I have aunts that know and aunts and uncles that don’t know that would probably not approve. Most of my cousins know. I’m still navigating coming out to my extended family. I’m not out to everyone and I’m 31.

It’s not easy. It’s not easy to see how people’s faces change when you’re out.

But I won’t hide who I am. In public it’s a bit easier because the people that matter most have my back. I know family will come around if they don’t agree. I’m blessed. I got lucky. It could have been worse.

My faith didn’t suffer because of my sexual orientation. My family loves me (the ones that know). And my friendships and professional relationships are great. My truth is not a weakness. It’s my strength that I’ve learned not to apologize for.