Community Rainbow Waves

Katy/Polyamorous Lesbian

To me, it seems like there are two stages to coming out: coming out to yourself and coming out to others. I was 13 when I thought I might be bi, 15 when I admitted to myself (after two years of self-flagellation) that I was a lesbian, and 16 when I came out to others. But it wasn’t until I was 20 that I could really call myself proud, or at least self-accepting. It was a long, rough journey, but definitely worthwhile.

I think it was that journey and maturity that made realizing I was polyamorous so much easier:

Me: “I like her…but I also like her…and it’s not that I like one more than the other…it’s that they’re equal, but different…”
My Brain: “Polyamory is a thing.”
Me: “…Huh.”
And that was that.

As much as people joke about gaydar, we do know our own. I’m lucky enough to know a lot of people who are out and proud, but every so often I meet someone who makes me think “this person is out to themselves, and they’ve accepted it, but they’re not quite ready to share it with the world yet.” And you know what? That’s ok. Coming out is a process, and it takes as long as it needs to. Coming out to myself and truly accepting my sexuality was the hardest part, but also the most rewarding. So whatever you feel and whomever you love, be honest and out to YOURSELF first and foremost. The rest will come in time.

And know that when you are ready to come out to others, you’ve got a rainbow of people ready to lift you up.

The Sovereignty

Trigger warnings: physical and emotional abuse, suicidal thoughts.

The sovereignty I inadvertently created for myself that held me back for so long.
If you’ll catch this tumultuous wave with me, we’ll ride this journey of love, growth, and happiness together.
Note: All humans are extraordinarily amazing and your sexuality is valid. This is simply my story, my experiences/preferences, and my growth.
Growing up in a Roman Catholic household had me seeing church twice a week due to the private school I attended. Button up shirts, plaid skirts, and rosaries in hand. I knew nothing of the LGBTQ+ community nor did I think it was possible to love someone of the same gender.
It wasn’t until I went to a public high school where everything changed for me. I remember this so vividly: I was sitting in the quad with friends and across the way, I saw two beautiful women being intimate with each other. I asked my friends what they were doing and they looked at me so sympathetically. “They’re together,” my friends said.

And that sparked a fire within me; I felt like I might be…different. Back then, there was hardly any positive representation of queer relationships in the media. So I grabbed at anything I could find. I couldn’t turn to my parents because they wanted a “happy life” for me which meant a husband, a career, and kids birthed from me and my future male spouse.
I struggled for the next 4 years. And though I made friends in the LGBTQ+ community, I still felt I couldn’t have the same love they had because ingrained within me (through religion and my parents) was that a happy life was with a man.

I had a boyfriend. It was the worst.
I had a girlfriend. It was the best.
That was when I knew. I was lesbian. I couldn’t fight it, as much as I tried to for the next 8 years.
Then I was outted.
The part of me I was still figuring out was unwillingly thrust into the hands of my parents. They were heartbroken. They didn’t know how to handle the news because they were like me: they didn’t know anything either. They didn’t understand that I was still their daughter, a human being capable of so many things in life. Except, maybe love. At least, that’s what it felt like. My mom would come to my room every night since the news and ask me if I was going to marry a man, if this was a phase. My dad stopped talking to me altogether.
So I ran away at 18. Still a baby. Still figuring out who she is.
It was hard to leave everything that I had ever known — a family who loved and cared for me despite their own struggles. I was grateful but I couldn’t watch the pain flash across my mom’s heart and the disappointment surface on my dad’s face. So I left.
I moved in with my girlfriend at the time. It was a struggle. I was fresh out of high school and still going to college. We couch-surfed for awhile. We were completely homeless for a couple weeks until we had enough money to get a place of our own.
Just when I started to feel comfortable, things actually turned for the worst.

After moving out, my uncle met with me and proceeded to tell me I was the “devil’s spawn and I would never be granted access into heaven” in front of a Coffee Bean. I haven’t been to a Coffee Bean since then. And then, all my close friends moved away from my hometown.
I lost my family, lost direct contact with my friends, gave up on the faith I had grown up with my whole life, and was still figuring out if being a lesbian was even okay.

Then she hit me.
In her drunken stupor her mind would cloud. Her hands would meet my face in fists instead of the gentle, soft palms I once knew. Her nails scratched at my cheeks and the back of my throat instead of down my spine in ecstasy. Her legs met my stomach instead of intertwining them with my own. Her fingers pulled at my hair instead of softly running them through tangles. Her body propelled into mine to push me onto the pavement, into the bathtub, onto the floor instead of embracing me with warmth. Her eyes, wild with rage instead of the love I once saw.
I thought about just giving up. I felt as if I had no one to turn to, no one to help me out. I tried twice, she caught me every time and wouldn’t let me escape. Unknowingly, I’m grateful she didn’t let me because I wouldn’t be who I am today.
But I didn’t know any better when I was with her. I didn’t know that this wasn’t the love I deserved. She was the only love I knew at the time. She accepted me when no one else did. So I stayed but I can still feel the remnants of her every action.
It took me two years to finally have the courage to leave; to finally realize that this wasn’t right. Luckily, my parents came around and they accepted me back into their home with open arms. It was still a struggle with them but it was also two years too late. The damage was done.

I was 21 when I met my next girlfriend. And she was amazing, completely opposite of HER. Because she was there for me when my wonderful grandfather passed away. She was there for me, period.
Or so I thought.
See, abuse can take many forms and all I had ever known was the physical manifestation of it. I didn’t see that it could take a mental and emotional form as well.
Within the 3 years that I was in this relationship, I continued to lose my way. I was limited in how I acted, in what I could take interest in and in my hobbies.
Book-binding was a “waste of time.”

Hanging out with family and friends couldn’t be done “without me.”

Following and shipping new queer relationships in the media was “weird and you should stop.”
And I stopped. I wanted to keep this love because it wasn’t physically negative.
So I changed myself once again.
Unaware, I built my own sovereignty. A force within myself to govern my actions, words, my own identity. It grew and grew until I couldn’t control it anymore.

When I was accepted into nursing school at 24, she raged at me. Jealous of my successes and treated me like a verbal punching bag instead of a human being. We broke up. I was torn. Less than a month later, I found out she was cheating on me. She was too scared to break my heart to tell me there was someone else and instead used my own success against me, making me feel like getting into nursing school wasn’t a feat of its own.
I was 25 when I realized: I deserve a wholesome and pure love. When I knew that the sovereignty I built needed to be dismantled. But it had to start somewhere.

So I started with myself.
I began to finally accept that being lesbian was just as valid as being straight.
It helped when more positive LGBTQ+ relationships surfaced in the media. It helped when my mom told me that she wanted to come to Pride with me wearing a “I’m proud of my gay daughter” shirt and when she said I could “always visit them with my wife.” It helped when I got my family back. It helped when I got my best friends back. It helped when I opened up about my journey to my clinical group and finally admitted to my mom the abuse I went through.
It helped when I discovered a community capable of unconditional love and acceptance.
I’m 26 now and I’m still growing. I’ve come to realize every feeling is valid, every human is valid. Everyone is capable and deserving of an entirely pure and healthy love. I chose to fight against everything I experienced.
I choose myself. I choose love.
Ea: a Hawaiian phrase meaning a sovereignty where no one, absolutely no one can hold you back.
(inhale, exhale)
I am a lesbian.
I am a human being.
I am here and I stay;

A series of moments

I don’t remember the first time I figured out I was not straight.

I only remember a series of moments along the way.

I remember playing the Sims on my Dad’s computer and having my Sim adopt a daughter on her own and keep a close female best friend around. She had a beautiful garden and a swimming pool.

I remember being obsessed with some girls in primary and middle schools. Girls who were pretty and intelligent and popular. Girls whose blogs I could recite by heart. Girls I would have on the phone to ask them what colour their bedroom wallpaper was.

I remember being obsessed with Naomi and Emily when I began watching Skins in high school. Watching and rewatching their episodes and never being able to put my finger on what it was that I could relate to.

I remember my second trip to England, being in my exchange partner’s bedroom at night and reading her diary entry about having a crush on a girl.

I remember watching Brittany and Santana in the first seasons of Glee and being confused by their definition of friendship.

I remember noticing girls in my high school. The way they dressed. The way they talked. But I also remember noticing boys in my high school. And having crushes. A lot of them. I remember hugging him in the cafeteria and feeling like my heart would explode out of joy. But I also remember my friend’s voice when she ventured to say that maybe, just maybe, I had crushes on boys that were out of my league so that I would not have to date them for real.

I remember seeing my best friend falling in love with someone else and getting closer to them and my heart would break a little. I remember telling her how I felt. We grew closer and closer every year and we would tell each other that it was only a phase we would grow out of to eventually marry men, have children, and buy houses next to each other.

I remember spending hours and hours writing in my diary: I know I am not straight. But I know I am not gay. What am I? What am I?

I remember watching Faking it and finally being able to relate. Thank you to Dana, Julia and Carter for developing the character of Amy Raudenfeld.

I remember being on a bus to Clifton in Bristol and seeing that girl and thinking that maybe, just maybe, I would not mind dating a girl after the phase with my best friend was over.

I remember being in my bedroom with my best friend. Looking at each other with heart eyes and speaking of spending our lives together. I remember her telling me again that it was all a game. And I remember telling her that I was tired of playing this game and that I deserved better.

I remember creating a profile on a dating app for the first time and being faced with the preference choices. Show me boys. Show me girls. Show me both. I remember the answer being instant : both. What. Oh wait. I’m bi. I’M BI.

I remember going on my first date with this boy a couple of months later. How it felt wrong from the get go, but I couldn’t understand why. We were the exact same age, had a lot of things in common, listened to the same music. He was kind, respectful, good-looking. And yet, all I could think of was “please, don’t kiss me”. After this date, I remember changing my app preference to “show me girls” only.

I remember coming out to my mum on a beautiful afternoon in Spring. We were holding cups of coffee, sitting on my sofa. I was nervous. I chose the words : “I like boys, but I also like girls. I’m bisexual”.

I remember breaking off all ties with my best friend because I realised that I could not be happy living in a world in which she was dating someone else. I remember crying my eyes out for months and wondering how I could be happy living a life she was not a part of.

I remember watching Wynonna Earp because I had been told Waverly was a positive representation of bisexuality and be happy that a relationship could be so natural and uncomplicated. Thank you to Dominique, Kat and Emily for imagining and developing the Wayhaught relationship and giving me hope.

I remember coming out to my dad over lunch on a beautiful summer day and deliberately not using the word bisexual. I chose the words : “I like girls, but I could also end up with a boy”.

I remember my therapist frowning when I would tell her that I liked girls but invariably precise that I didn’t mind boys either. I remember being angry at her for making me question my sexuality. I remember her telling me I could be a lesbian and that it would be just as fine. That day, I left her office and felt as if I had grown wings. But I was not a lesbian : what about all those crushes I had had on boys?

I remember being with a male colleague in my car at night. I had just given him a lift to his apartment. We had spent a lovely evening. Instead of leaving the car right away saying good night, he lingered a little and was looking at me. I knew I had feelings for him. But a voice in my head was also screaming : “please, don’t kiss me”.

I remember her sitting on my sofa. We had met the week before, at a party. I remember my mind going blank when she went for it and held my hand. How when we walked back to her car, the voice in my head was screaming : “please, please, kiss me”.

I remember coming out to my grandparents and telling them about my new girlfriend. My grandmother said : “I knew”.

For a while, I was obsessed with labels. I wanted to embrace my new identity. Be proud and loud. But I constantly outgrow the label I choose. I claim I am bisexual, and then cringe when I have to admit that I can’t quite picture myself dating a boy. I say I can only picture myself loving a girl, and then cringe again when I have to admit that I am developing a crush on a male colleague.

I don’t know if I should identify as a bisexual, pansexual, queer or lesbian woman. I don’t mind people assuming for me, and I don’t correct them when they do. But I no longer use these labels anymore when I come out to a new colleague or a new friend.

The only thing that I know is that, sometimes, I bump into other human beings who are so beautiful inside and out that it makes my heart beat faster and my eyes glow. And I feel lucky to walk this earth and meet these people and love them and lose them and feel alive.

Androgynous

First, Excuse my english. It’s not my mother’s tongue.

It was a long time ago (the 80’s).
I realized I was lesbian at 16 (and tried to shut it down right away too because evreybody around me was -in the best scenario- mocking homosexuals).

It took me to go to University for a year (five years later) to understand that the desire for girls was too hard to fight and finally accept it.
I reconnected with the best friend I had between 9 and 11. It turns out she was gay too!
I think the first person I told it – few month after I quit Uni- was one of my cousins. I told her that on Sundays, I was going to this “famous” gay nightclub about 1h of road from our hometown and that the reason was because it felt home to me. Because I prefer girls.. She didn’t care AT ALL. 🙂 Her first words? ” I’m not surprised. Do you have a girlfriend?”…
Then, a short time after, I told it to the highschool friend I’ve been in Uni with and the 2 others girls we befriended there. I said: “Humm.., guys? I have to tell you something… Well, I’ve been in this gay nightclub a lot lately and…I have a flirt…..with a girl… And I’m gay”. No problem with them neither.
Basically, they said: “It’s your life, you do what you want to. It’s not important for us.”

But I stopped coming-out after that because there was only my family left to tell. I remained silent for many many years. (But it doesn’t mean I pretended being straight! It was not even an idea for me. And it would have made coming-out worse).
So, at almost 40, I had a little breakdown and send a email to those I had the address, knowing they would talk about it to their sister/brother I couldn’t reach out. I have been really less diplomat than you but I was really down:

“Ok, here it is, I can’t anymore, it has to get out or I’m gonna blow a casquet…

I don’t care if it doesn’t please someone but I’m not gonna play a role to satisfy anyone.
Let things be clear for everybody: I’m homo.
I haven’t change, I’ve always been.
I’m open to any question/discussion.

Here, it’s done.”

It turns out that, with all those years passed by, my family had evolved on the “homosexuality topic”… and that they love me for who I am.
It was just support and love. I was right to wait…

Proud Bisexual

I knew when I was a freshman in high school. I was in love with my best friend. We never tried a relationship. I was torn. It was a hard process for family acceptance. It’s been a constant struggle. I continue to be out and proud and love who I love. I’ve been in a relationship with my girlfriend for 2 years. It’s my first same sex relationship. We’re slowly coming out to everyone and being proud of who we’re with.

Bisexual

I became aware mostly thanks to a very open minded friend while we were in middle school, she had an account in Tumblr and she recommended the app to me, while she was teaching me how to use it she told me “here we all are anonymous and you can even delete your search history” and this gave me my first step to look for the queer community because I wasn’t being monitored by my parents and there I realized so many people were happy with having different sexualities and I came to realize I liked girls as I liked boys and it broke me at first ‘cus I was already bullied so I didn’t want to add a stone to it, so I mostly just buried it and only made some side comments to the same friend who introduced me to Tumblr, on my last year of middle school this friend asked me if I didn’t have a crush in one of our girl friends and I denied it completely and went home but that comment bugged me a lot so I kind of did a little of soul searching at the tender age of 14 and accepted that I liked this girl and basically cried on the phone while talking with my friend about it and she helped me out to a stand point were even if I didn’t want to make it public I accepted that I was different.
That lasted about 3 months because a guy who mocked me found out by eavesdropping my conversation and he kicked me out of the closet to my whole generation and it felt like the end of the world! I haven’t even come out to my mom and my whole school already knew! Thankfully, no one cared and the ones who cared didn’t have a problem with it and they help me control the panic and the kid was expelled of the school.
After it came high school, I started it being more comfortable with being bisexual and I found this little web series called “Carmilla” which help me see such amazing characters being so casual about their likes that I started to get a little of confidence, then I was recommended this weird series called “Wynnona Earp” and well, the rest is history, I came out to my mom by accident and she had a little melt down for a few weeks but it ended well, she has even come with me to the Pride Parade this last few years, my dad was chill and was just glad I figured out early so I could be happy and my mom told everyone in my family by being overly enthusiastic, at the end I’m just glad I have the support of my family and friends and now I’m 19, ready to face the world one step at a time 😀

Lesbian

When I was fourteen I came out to my mother after I’ve been pretty sure that I was gay for a year or so. But she reacted the total opposite way of what I was expecting… saying that “it’s just a phase and I was too young to know stuff like this, I just haven’t met the right boy yet.” And that I was “lucky she wasn’t goint to tell my father about it.” Skipping to 2019, as I finally had the guts to institutionolize myself into a psychiatry after almost ten years of major mental health issues, I tried to be brave once again and come out to my mother. She apologized for the way she reacted back then and fully supports me in every desicion I make in my new out and proud life. It’s partly thanks to you, Dominique, and all the other actors who represented the queer community during this tough period of my life, that I am still alive today and grateful for every day I have on this earth. <3

My name is Melissa, I’m 20 and this is my Rainbow Wave

I always knew that I was different in many ways : I wasn’t thin enough, I wasn’t “girly” enough, I wasn’t quiet enough, funny enough…. As a child I was proud of what make me different from the others, I was a little girl who loved biology and astronomy, who loved to read everything that fell in my hands. I practically grew up surrounded by boys so I acted like them and loved the same things that they loved : I loved playing soccer, playing in the grass and mud, jumping in puddles and climbing in the trees. And of course the women in my family (my mother, my godmother and my grandmother) disliked it. They wanted me to behave “like a girl”; for them it was not get all dirty by playing in the mud, sit correctly and straight, and most importantly I didn’t have to be loud. I believed that in order to fit in I had to stop being myself. As I grew up and went to middle school I started to shut myself down, I would stop going outside to play with other kids and instead spend hours in my room, reading books and creating stories with my imagination. I became quiet, I barely talked anymore… I kind of disappeared.

I was in 8th grade when I started to question my sexuality. I was never really interested in boys but seeing as every girl was, well I forced myself into being interested. I even had a boyfriend for a few months. So at the beginning of this new year, with a new class I met new people. And I remember noticing this girl in my class. She had the most beautiful eyes I ever saw, they were as blue as the summer sky and I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about the sound of her laugh or the way she smiled when she was talking with her friends. Of course at first I didn’t really thought much about it, I assumed I admired her and just wanted to be like her. Then I realized that I was becoming strangely obsessive with her (not in a weird way, just in the way of a middle school girl with her first crush), I started to look for her in the crowd of middle schoolers and every time I would spot her, I was flustered and lost the track of whatever was happening around me. That’s when I realized that I had a crush on her. At first I tried to deny it as much as I could, but even with all the will in the world, I couldn’t fight these feelings. I was scared and didn’t know what was the meaning of this or to who I could talk about it, so naturally I decided to hide it as best as I could.

Then one day, I was talking with my best friend about this new TV show that we discovered a few weeks ago. She wouldn’t stop talking about this one guy that she find cute and also really hot and I was like ‘Meh I guess he is ok, but like have you seen her ?!” and I launch into a huge rant about this other character. As we join others friends, my mind started to wander back to this conversation. I realized that I talked only about female characters while my best friend talked about the male ones. I thought back on other conversations and I came with this same conclusion every time : I couldn’t stop talking about girls. Later that day at home, I started searching for answers on the internet and fell into the many LGBTQ+ websites and articles. As I learned more and more through different stories of people and put the pieces together, I understood that I was a lesbian.

I came out gradually to my loved ones when I felt that I was ready to share my truth. I’m lucky to have many people supporting me and it helped me accepting myself and be comfortable in my own skin. I learn to be more loud and proud of who I am, to embrace all of what make me different and to make the little girl I once was, proud of the woman I became.

What I want you to take from my story is that you should never let anyone tell you that you need to hide who you are in order to be more like anyone else, because our differences are what makes us beautiful and what make this world so interesting. Even if sometimes things are difficult and you think you will never be able to be yourself, you need to keep going, and be as true to yourself as you can because in the end everything will be worth it. My mom often says “Everything happens for a reason and it will make sense in its own time”, so remember that you are not alone in this and if nobody told you this yet : I am proud of you.

Lesbian

I found out when I was 11 but I guess I always felt like I knew and the first person that I told was my best friend and she has supported me through it since, then I told my mom but she just told me that I was too young and I didn’t know anything but it’s been a couple of years and I’m still the same person I still like girls i just hope she allows me to be me once I tell her again I hope she supports me.

Better late than never!

I always felt like I didn’t fit in with the girls I went to school with. I grew up in a hard-believing traditional Christian household, and one didn’t talk about things of sexuality that didn’t fit in that vein. So purity culture was huge, and total abstinence was expected no matter who you loved outside marriage. So I pushed it down and tried to ignore it. I was attracted to different genders and I felt wrong trying to be with people I was attracted to and had to deal with the guilt of that attraction as well as the worry of violating purity culture in general. I guess subconsciously I decided that since I could be with who I wanted, I would not be with anyone.(I know- it sounds wrong to me now too!)
Fast forward literally decades to 2020- I was terrified of coming out to my family, in particular to my Mom, who was the strongest Christian influence in the family. She passed unexpectedly in 2020, and in my processing grief, I decided it was way past time for me to live my truth. I had denied myself my true being too long. I decided that I was tired of living a lie and had moved away from the many of the strict “traditional” Christian beliefs of my childhood and started looking for myself. It was time to come out. I spent weeks thinking & worrying about it, and one day, the timing made itself right- I came out as queer.
My Family’s response: “We just assumed you were.”

I couldn’t believe that I spent so many, many years living outside my genuine self and my family wasn’t really an obstacle (some other, distant relatives are not on board, but I’ve never interacted much with them) as much as I had made them to be in my head. I know this isn’t likely a common experience and I am so proud of my family and the support they’ve given since, and the work we have put in to build communication on a new domain.

I am learning and growing, since I feel like a sort of oddity being a middle-aged “baby gay”, but I’m wading into a life that I have long denied myself. I’m thrilled, I’m scared, I happy, I’m nervous, I’m certain, but mostly, I’m free and I’m out!