Community Rainbow Waves

Queer

I knew I was apart of the community my freshman year of highschool when, no matter what I did I couldnt take my eyes off the girl who sat one seat up and to the right of me. It was something I couldn’t fight. I barely knew her aside from her name, but when she wasnt in class I noticed, when she didnt laugh at my jokes like the other 25 kids it didnt seem as funny to me anymore. I couldnt get her to laugh and I was determined and honestly I never did, what made her laugh was out teacher telling me to “leave the poor girl alone” that make her laugh.
When she smiled, I knew.
I grew up in church my entire life, and when I spent weeks thinking about her and trying to come up with jokes, I also spent weeks beating myself down and praying.
I wouldn’t come out for another year to my friends and they all accepted me and I was happy, I felt free. Two years later I was successfully making that same girl smile but now I had to grow some and ask her out. Two years later and she ended up sitting one row up to the right of me again in history class our junior year. I remember just staring at her the entire period, and then pretend I wasnt looking and blush really hard.
A year later I guess i finally said the right thing because we started to date. Yes ive been out for sometime by then, but being with her made me feel invincible. I felt comfortable walking down the streets of nyc holding my beautiful girlfriends hand still telling corny jokes.
All that would dissipate when I went home. My mom found out a year later and she hasnt seen me the same since. We’ve physically fought, she barely talks to me.
When I am home I am a shell but as soon as I am out of those four walls I am a giant of pride and happiness and alive.
Honestly the only reason I really survived it was because aside from being “home,” I get to be myself. My home is with my (still going strong) girlfriend, my amazing friends and the amazing lgbtq+ family.
Im just surviving and one day ill move out of here and then can I fully start to live my life to the fullest.

Lesbian- CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT BULLYING AND DEPRESSION.

When I was nine I had a crush on a girl in my class. I would get a sick fizzy feeling in my stomach everytime I saw her. I never liked boys and as I grew older and more sexually aware I knew I was different from everyone else. Unfortunately this put a target on me and I was bullied throughout high school. I became closed off and depressed because I wanted to be like everyone else, what society classed normal. I hid my sexually away from everyone until I was 23. Unlike me my little brother who is also gay wore his sexuality on his sleeve he never cared what anyone thought and gave me the courage to accept myself for who I really am. So i took a deep breath and told my mum i was gay and she smiled. She said she had known who I was since I was 4 and only wanted to kiss girls while playing kiss chase. Now as I near my 40th birthday I am out, i am married to the most beautiful woman in the world and i am happy.

Lesbian

I fell in love with my best friend but came out to my stepdads partner before my parents they was all supportive couldn’t of asked for more.

Sayde

I was in a “secret” relationship with my best friend. It started out great, but soon the stress of keeping the secret and not wanting to admit that what we had was “real” started to eat away at me. After a roller coaster of a year, and a full on depressive spiral, we finally ended things for good. After this, I made a point of going out and making new friends and a new me. Though it wasn’t easy, I started to embrace my queerness and eventually felt comfortable in my own skin. I didn’t come out to my family officially until I met my now-wife, though it was more because I never wanted to discuss ANY relationship with them and not out of fear for their reaction. I was lucky enough that once I felt comfortable in myself, I found a supportive community that helped me grow and become queer woman I am today.

Dana (she/her)

I remember the first time I actively thought about girls in a more than friends way, I was in grade 7 and about 12 years old. There was this girl in my class who was like nobody I’d ever seen before and I REALLY wanted to be her friend. As the year went on, I started wondering what it would be like to kiss her. We were in a group project together, and at one point she hugged me and it was the best thing to ever happen to my 12 year old brain. But, I didn’t really think anything of it, because I thought all girls felt this way. In any case, I still had crushes on boys and continued to do so right through grade 8.

Near the end of grade 8, in the spring of 2012, I discovered Glee and quickly became obsessed with the relationship between Brittany and Santana. I wanted to know more about their storyline, so I delved deeper, buying the DVDs of season 1 and 2 (which I hadn’t seen) just so I could see all of the context behind how their relationship came to be. I had never seen a WLW relationship portrayed ANYWHERE before, so Glee had my head spinning and it became the first TV show I ever got hooked on. I went down the YouTube rabbit hole, searching “TV lesbians” and finding so many more ships to obsess over. Somehow, I still wasn’t connecting this fascination to my own identity. It was new and exciting, but I never really stopped to consider why. All of a sudden, YouTube clip after YouTube clip, it clicked for me and I realized I wanted to be like (and with) the women in those videos.
Later that summer, I realized I was developing feelings for my best friend. At that point, I was secretly labelling myself as bisexual (I still liked boys, right???). I came out to my closest guy friend as bisexual while playing truth or dare over text message, and he accepted it right away. As the summer went on and turned into fall, and the celebrity crushes and the BIG OL’ CRUSH ON MY BEST FRIEND didn’t go away, I began to realize that I could definitely not see myself in a relationship with a boy the way I could with girls. I remember crying about this a lot and literally praying that it would go away. I just wanted to be “normal” and have a “normal” life and it would be so much easier if I could just like boys. This took months to reconcile with myself.
I tentatively asked my best friend if she would ever consider being with another girl. When she said no, my heart broke and I came to the stark realization that not every girl felt this way. I did come out to her, and she accepted me no problem, but I didn’t let slip that she was the girl I wanted to date. I began labelling myself as gay, because the word “lesbian” didn’t sit right with me. I was outed to my school in grade 9, and I remember feeling betrayed, but also relieved because that meant I didn’t have to broadcast it myself. Shockingly, at my Catholic school, nobody cared. I never received flack for it, and everyone was very cool about it.

This was the year I discovered Tumblr, where I went on a journey of self-realization. I put posters of women up in my room, and I downloaded pictures of my celebrity crushes to the computer. I didn’t have my own computer, so I used the family computer for all of this (rookie mistake). One day, my mom came into my room, sat with me, and started asking me questions. I knew exactly where she was going with it when she asked me about the pictures in my room. In my heard I was pleading with her not to ask the question I was dreading—I wasn’t ready to face it. My silent pleading didn’t work, because she did ask it: “I see a lot of pictures of girls, and none of boys…I want you to be honest with me, are you leaning towards that? It’s totally fine, it doesn’t matter to me one way or another, I still love you”. I told her that honestly, I didn’t know. Even though I did know, I just wasn’t ready to say it. I think I was still battling a lot of internalized homophobia. I didn’t know any out queer people in real life, and I felt so abnormal.
Grade 9 was really great. Everybody I told was so supportive and I didn’t have one negative reaction in my peer group. Eventually, my best friend found out I was head over heels for her, but we managed to remain very close. Somehow, I got over her (yes, it gets better!!) and had other crushes and near-relationships with other girls. Then, my buddy set me up with this girl in our grade, and I had my first relationship over the summer right before high school. She broke up with me a couple weeks into grade 10 and naturally, I was heartbroken. I was so beyond upset that my parents definitely noticed. My mom asked me about it, and I broke into tears— in order to tell her what was wrong, I had to tell her I was gay. When I told her that the girl and I had been dating, she said that she kind of figured. She was so supportive and it made me wish I had come out to her earlier, but I really hadn’t been ready.
I had already told my younger sister (who was 11 at the time) that I had a girlfriend shortly after I started dating this girl. She had no problem with it and was extremely supportive. My dad was the hardest. We’d never been super close, and I didn’t really know how to talk to him about anything, so it was hard to breach the topic. It was probably a few weeks after I told my mom that I finally came out to my dad. He told me that my mom had told him, and that he still loved me, but he was concerned about my safety at school (my dad, ever practical). I came out to my extended family a couple years later, via Facebook on National Coming Out Day in 2015. I wrote a massive post because I didn’t want to come out to my family members individually, and at that point it was a non-issue to me. I never received any negative reactions, and everybody has accepted my now-girlfriend as part of the family.

Positive representation matters because it’s what made me realize who I am and also what gave me the courage to let others know who I am! At the time of writing this, I have been out for seven years. As soon as I came out, I felt instantly freer and life was much easier. I am so fortunate that this has been my experience, and that I have been blessed with such amazing and supportive people around me. I look forward to a day where everybody can fall in love without boundaries, and where “coming out” is no longer necessary. Because, after all, #OutIsTheNewIn

Gayyyyyy/Lesbian 🙂

Hello! I’m a 17 year old girl and I’m gayyyyy but I’m
not out yet. But feel free to put this on the website! Ok into the
story. I first realized when a certain situation happened *ahem when I
was play fighting with one of my friends who was a girl and she kinda
got on top of me and just started to hold me down cuz we were sort of
wrestling. Anyways after that I freaked out and was like WHAT IS THIS
FEELING NONONO GO AWAY HORRIBLE FEELING. So I strictly was against being
attracted to girls in any fashion for a couple months and I grew up in a
homophobic Asian family where my parents would always say EW GROSS WHAT
IS THIS whenever they saw any LGBTQ+ representation on tv. And every
time my parents did that I would get a tight knot in my chest and I
would have the urge to cry. I realized that a life where I felt so
anxious around my parents, wasn’t a life that I wanted. So
eventually… I told my best friend that I was gay and I knew she would
be fine with it bc she was Bi and it was the best thing ever bc I felt a
weight being lifted off my shoulders. I am still in the process of
telling everyone around me but I’ve told my close friends and they all
were like “yeah we knew” haha. I’m still really scared of telling
my parents that I’m gay but I’ll get there soon enough 🙂 ps thank
you so much for an inspiration to me and representing the LGBTQ+
community in a way that they deserve

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