Community Rainbow Waves

Learning not to Fight Myself

A lot of people seem to know that they are “different” from an early age.

I never did. Or I didn’t for years anyway.

I had so many other things I was worried about. Whether it was switching schools again, taking care of my siblings that were significantly younger than me, or just trying to settle in to another new place, boys always seemed unimportant, so the fact that I wasn’t interested in them obviously just wasn’t a big deal. “I’m busy,” I told myself. “I need to make friends, get good grades, go off to college, then I’ll have time for that.”

But I was enamored with my girl friends, here and there. They were dynamic, intelligent, powerful, beautiful, captivating. I wanted to understand them, to do things for them, to make them feel like they were seen and they mattered. I would skip out on homework to text them, crawl out onto the roof at night when I was supposed to be in bed to have long phone conversations about our hopes and dreams and fears and insecurities. I would give up sleep to hear more about the complexities that come out of a person in the dark. I resented the boys that made them feel worthless or annoying or not good enough, because how could they be so blind?

When I first figured out that dating girls was a thing that you could do, I was 15. My first thought was, “Oh no. That. I want to do that.”

I made my way through my sophomore year in a blur, for the first time fully aware of a crush while it was happening. I went to prom with a nice boy from my friend group and hid in the bathroom because I couldn’t bring myself to dance with him. I knew I was staring at a friend who would never look at me that way, and I knew I had something to confront.

In the middle of all of it, my parents sold my childhood home and announced that we would be moving from our tiny Midwestern town to a suburb of Denver. I muddled through the year, researching by consuming every piece of lesbian representation that I could find and then promptly deleting my search history. Until the day that I didn’t. Until the day my parents sat me down as asked me about it. And I told them. And they asked if I was trying to get back at them for making me move. And we decided a few months later that I would go back home to finish high school, but tell no one because it would make things too hard. Make people too uncomfortable.

I truly, publicly, came out a month after I graduated. The day that marriage equality became the law of the land in the United States, June 26th 2015, I wrote a long, thoughtful Facebook post for anyone apart from my friends and family I’d already told. My mom called me to tell me that I should have asked her first, because she was having a hard week because it was her 40th birthday. That I should have asked before I celebrated because she didn’t want to deal with questions form the family. That I could still live a life of celibacy with God.

That was the first time that I felt the fierce protectiveness for my community, for myself, for my own worth, swirl and solidify in my chest. The first time that I really recognized that I didn’t need to be my own worst enemy because the world would take care of that. I had plenty to fight. I didn’t need to fight myself. Most importantly, I was strong enough to put myself in front of anyone that wasn’t there yet, and that that’s what this community does. We defend each other. We help each other. We love each other.

Since then we’ve seen the Pulse shooting. We’ve seen half a dozen years of Pride. We’ve seen job discrimination outlawed. I’ve fallen in and out of love and back into it again. I’ve met spectacular women and men and non-binary and agender folks that have taught me the beauty of the spectrum of human expressions of gender and sexuality and love. It’s made me a better person. I’m more understanding, more empathetic, more open. I wouldn’t trade this community, or this experience of myself for anything.

I am a lesbian girl

I think I always knew I was different but only figured out how ‘different’ at about 10 years old. I found myself looking at girls. It gave me this weird feeling like I shouldn’t be looking at girls I like boys! So I did everything to supress those feelings and started talking with boys from my class. I got into an relationship with a guy from my class and thought that’s what it’s supposed to be. Then one day we went to his house to hang out and he wanted to make a YouTube video titled girlfriend Q&A. We looked up some questions on the internet and then one came across which made me realize I don’t want to be with him. It was the question would you rather hug or kiss? And if so you have to do it. Well I’ve never kissed before so I said hug but I didn’t want to hug him! So I told him I didn’t want to and short after I made an end to the relationship. I still wasn’t convinced I was gay, I thought maybe I am bi, so the next year I did the same thing. I got a boyfriend but quickly realized I didn’t like him.. I liked this girl from my class. So me being 11 years old went online and chatted people around the world about it. To this day (I am 14 now so 4 years later since I was 10/11 years) I still talk to her! My mom eventually found out I was talking to a ‘stranger’ which she definitely isn’t for me. She took my phone and went through it and quickly found out that I am a lesbian. She still often asks me if I really don’t like boys and I always tell her I am fully gay. When I was about 12 I came out to my class in school. They were very cool about it and didn’t mind at all. Now I am in 2 years further and I don’t really feel the need to tell people anymore. I mean when ur straight you don’t tell everyone too right? So now every time somebody asks me if I am gay I will simply answer yes, I am not afraid of coming out or accepting myself. Because I did, but I don’t think it’s necessary.

Just a girl who likes girls

I think I’ve known I liked girls since I was 14 but I kind of ignored it, if that makes sense?? I sort of pushed those feelings and ideas away, and tried to be attracted to boys. It’s fair to say that it didn’t work ! I came out to few people at a time, people I could trust but I only told my parents and extented family when I had my first girlfriend. I was 22, so I’m a late bloomer!
And telling my pare nts was hard because I knew they wouldn’t understand and it made them sad ; sad that I wouldn’t live the life they imagined for me and scared I would be seen as “different”. Some people rather blend in and not make waves, but maybe different is cool you know ? It opens up people’s mind and if they make the effort then they can see life from someone’s point of view and sort of grow. In that way representation matters, especially on TV where people how normal queer people are. We are only different from the societal norm but maybe we can just change that norm? How hard could it be to simply accept and embrace our differences ?
This place allows us to be simply ourselves, so thank you for this!
xxx

Mica

Hola. Me llamo Micaela, soy de Argentina. Quisiera contar que soy bisexual y lo sé desde los 8 años. Pero recién a mis 25 pude contárselo por primera vez a una amiga y luego a mi hermana mayor. Fue gracias a que conocí a una compañera de trabajo suya y me gustó. Se lo conté llorando porque también le dije que durante toda mi infancia y adolescencia estuve enamorada de una compañera de colegio. Mis dos hermanas lo saben (soy la del medio), mi mamá, una tía y unas amigas. Pero no mi papá, porque no sé como podría reaccionar. Empecé la psicóloga hace un año porque supe que no iba a poder desentenderme mucho más tiempo de la situación. Sufrí mucho internanamente, lloraba todas ñas noches casi y no podía contárselo a nadie. No hay peor soledad que el mirarse al espejo y no reconocerse. Y esto me pasó por muchos años. Aún no me suelto del todo, pero cada día es un paso más a descubrirlo. Gracias por el espacio.

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

I am a Skatebording Bronx NY Musician

Sometimes being a wild musician has repercussions.
I had known for a while that I had lesbian tendencies. Women are beautiful creatures, truly. Being a pretty boisterous musician on stage, I also like to keep my private life separate.
A few girls had come and gone, under the radar of most of my friends and family…
Until I was lowkey dating this cute little troublemaker of a girl in my mid 20’s. We got uhm…into things in my old bedroom – an artsy basement turned music studio where my band mates and I tackled each other one night and somehow flew into the bedroom door, knocking it clear off its hinges (mind you, I fell backwards with it) and laziness prevented me from fixing it. After all, I had moved out a while back, so no need…right?

As things heated up, I wasnt paying attention to my surroundings and my father somehow found his way into the basement to ask me about dinner. Low and behold, he pokes his head thru the blanket aka makeshift door, and BOOM. Caught. Red. freaking. handed. (How embarassing!)
I’ve never seen him dart back upstairs so fast lol.
AND Woah! Instant cold shower. For both of us. I didnt know what to do! She kinda paniced! I hadda think fast.
So I quickly threw myself together, and went upstairs.
My poor dad. ‘I am not sure what I just saw…uhm’
I put my hands into my sweatpants pockets and kinda squeeked out
‘Well……I am gay? And that was my beautiful girlfriend downstairs and uhhhh here lemme go get her and introduce you.’ He was shocked, but totally fine with it. Everyone was! What a relief. I got lots of support and I should have said something sooner. But Talk about being outright caught. We still laugh about it to this day.

Bisexual

I knew I like boys and girls since I was at a very young age (5-6) I didn’t really think much about it until I was in year 7 and everyone started dating, up until high school I only had a couple of crushes on boys. When I got in to year 9 I was getting really close with one of my friends and we started “talking”. And that’s the same year in school we looked at different sexuality’s and feelings, I finally realised the way I felt about people had a name. I’m out and a proud bisexual.

Long journey that was sometimes, very difficult and challenging and will likely continue to be so. However, after 20 years of being with person I love, I can be myself.

I think I have always known, but when from a small town with little diversity, you push the feelings aside until you are generally faced with an opportunity to understand more. Much like the founder, I have an appreciation for males and females but my soulmate and best friend happened to be female which all of a sudden made life a bit more challenging and amazing at the same time. I had to deal with an ex-husband, my daughter and family. Was not easy but after nearly 20 years, raising my daughter, having a son together and finding myself, I could not be happier. I am finally comfortable with who I am and always willing to help others do the same.

Angela H

Hello friends of Start the Wave, I want to tell you a little more about myself. I always knew that I was strange, since school I did not feel attracted to boys, but clearly I felt that I liked women, at school to go against those I felt because I had a boyfriend but obviously nothing worked, I left school to I was 16 years old and I kept feeling that something in me was not normal, I was still more attracted to women, at 22 I met a lesbian girl who turned the world upside down, I started my first love relationship with that girl, it was something magical, After 4 years that so nice ended for reasons of distance, but I learned that I could love whoever I wanted without persisting that it was wrong. The bad thing about it was when I told my mother, she totally rejected me and told me that she would prefer a dead son than a gay son, according to my mother I am a sin for God! So for that matter my life has been clouded by a slight sadness to feel rejected by the woman who gave me life. My circle of friends is wonderful, one of them is gay, the others are heterosexual and they love me and accept me as I am, something that I would like to feel about my mother and my family. Thanks guys!!! Thank you for all that you do for this planet and for this community that needs so many beautiful people like you.

Not out but getting there

I live in a pretty conservative country. I’ve known I was not normal since young, I got obsessed over both genders when I was really young, like 4. I suppressed it for years, and tried to dismiss it as just “being a weird tomboy of sorts”. My family was conservative back then, my mom would say if any of us were queer she’d disown us.

8 years later I get asked if im a lesbian in an all-girl school, I think it was meant to be a teasing thing, or an insult. 2 years later I learn the word bisexual and start questioning my sexuality.

2 years later and i’m still confused but i’m coming out to people i know better, slowly, even my family, except the homophobic ones.

Yes, I am proud to be queer. Yes, I am optimistic about the future. But i’m still terrified of getting outed, getting called slurs. I know I can handle it, but i’m still scared. Internalised homophobia sucks too, I watch queer movies and I both love and question them, there’s so much hatred. I wished for myself to just be straight, told myself it’d just be so much easier, I told myself I wanted conversion therapy even though it’s complete bs.

I’m starting to accept it more, and love myself more, I can feel the community here growing, thanks