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I started to question my sexuality a lot a few years ago when I met someone who I was really into but was the same gender as me. She was amazing and I was scared. I was also very confused because I liked girls and guys. I am still confused and not super into labels so I just love who I love. I’ve come out to a few people, but not everyone. I am still trying to work up my self confidence to fully come out. I think you love who you love, and that’s the beauty of it.
I am 27 and I’ve liked girls for as long as I can remember. When I was 5, I wrote a love letter to a girl in my class, but never gave it to her ’cause I was too shy. Years later I found the letter and felt so embarrassed that I threw it away. At that time, I was already brainwashed into thinking that being queer was wrong and dirty. From that day on I decided that I’d never think of girls again, and that’s what I did… Until high school, at least!
I remember watching the tv show Skins when I was a teen just because it portrayed a lesbian couple and it was everything that I could find in terms of representation. I feel so happy for the kids today that have access to amazing content such as Wynnona Earp. Positive queer representation can change people’s lives <3
During high school I ended up kissing some girls thanks to Spin the Bottle, which gave me the courage to kiss a friend at a party at my senior year and I reeeeeally fell for her! I spent months with a major crush on her! At that moment I thought: ok, I’m definitely not straight! Maybe Bissexual?
I had some boyfriends here and there and managed to get my first girlfriend at college. And when we first got together, I remember thinking: so that’s how being attracted to someone is supposed to feel like!!
I never planned on coming out because I was still figuring out my own feelings. I was dating this girl, it was Dia dos Namorados (something like Valentine’s Day) and I was nervous enough having this secret relationship and stuff, but my mom could tell that something was off (moms, am I right?). She spent the entire day asking me what was wrong and why I couldn’t talk to her, until I burst out that I was in love with a girl.
My mom cried for weeks and went through all those grief stages, but my dad was my rock. We’ve never been close, me and my dad, but he really stood up for me when my mom was freaking out, and I believe we got closer because of that.
My first year out of the closet wasn’t easy, me and my mom argued a lot. Every week I would find a new video or research about sexuality and gender and try to explain to her that it was all normal and it wasn’t a choice. And so, a year went by, my first relationship ended, and we spent another year without talking about my sexuality at home. During this year I got to focus on my feelings and found out that I identified as a lesbian. Since that, I started living out and proud and my family followed along at their own pace.
Today we couldn’t be better. I’m engaged to the most amazing woman, who my family absolutely loves (yay!). We’ve been together for 6 years and we have 2 cats (living the dream! Hahaha). My fiancé is funny, smart, beautiful and always has my back. We’ve grown so much together, as a couple and as individuals, and I am really proud of this whole journey.
So, I just wanna tell you guys what other strangers on the internet told me before: The journey might be hard, but it does get better!
We all deserve to shine, to love and to live. Be proud and celebrate yourselves.
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.
I grew up in a small farm town in Indiana. Open mindedness was not a thing where I was from. Being raised by older parents and growing up in an closed mindset community, I was raised to believe that those who choose same sex relationships were sinful and “wrong in the head”. I always sensed I was different from about 14 on. But it wasn’t until I was 16 walking the halls of High School thinking I can’t be gay dad will hate me. So….. I suppressed the queer side of me that wanted to be with girls, dated some boys, and tried really hard to be “normal”. Several years of chronic depression and anxiety later I finally turned 21, lived on college campus, and had a mad crush on a girl in my class. Fate, God, the Universe or whatever force you believe in, this girl was also bisexual. And although a relationship never happened, I owe it to her and one drunken night for my official coming out story. I chose to live honestly and came out to my friends and family soon after. Things did not go well at first, but we did a lot of growing, and things did get better. Fast forward a few years and I am now happily married 2 years to my beautiful wife. All of my friends were there and my parents walked me down the aisle. I am so very fortunate to have such a positive outcome. We now live in the same small town I grew up in where we strive to live positive, out, queer lives, and strive to make the world a more loving place. #KeepItReal
Growing up I always felt different.
This different-ness kept me from having authentic and deep relationships for most of my adolescent and young adult life, before I was even aware of what my “difference” was. I was never fully myself – I had a deep seeded anxiety that I was going to somehow let everyone know this thing that I didn’t even know about myself yet.
When I was 16 I had my first real kiss. I say real because I had kissed a handful of guys and felt a gut-wrenching anxiety before during and after each time. I remember wondering if that’s what the feeling all my friends talked about loving – so why didn’t I love it?
Well my first kiss at 16 told me why. I magically made a new best friend. She somehow rose in the rankings effortlessly in the 3 short weeks that I had known her, getting that coveted “best friend” position. Thinking back on the whole thing makes me smile because as horrifying as it was back then, it’s kinda cute to think about little gay me and how obvious it all was.
At this point I was having fleeting moments of feelings when our hands would touch, or she would lay her head on my shoulder, or she seemed to seek me out the same way I sought her out. These fleeting moments manifested as one of those jolts you get right after you’ve done something embarrassing, or you are carrying a laundry basket down a flight of stairs and think there’s one more stair beneath you but your foot hits the ground too quick. That split-second “oh f***” moment followed by that FULL body halo of heat that disappears just as quickly as it came.
Despite all the signs that were there – I continued to lie to myself and think that these touchy moments and our obsessive need to talk and be around one another and the phone bills from the literal 17,000 texts a month we sent (sorry dad… Also, did I even sleep? ALSO, yes it was long ago enough that you had to pay for texts past a certain amount. I’m showing my age – I digress.) were just the signs of best friendship. So one night she slept over. And as bffs do, we obviously went to bed forehead to forehead holding hands between us because that is just what best friends do, right? Anyway… I could feel her breath on my lips (remember… i was STILL lying to my conscious brain even at this point) and I think my heart rate spiking to the level it did made me actually black out because all of the sudden I opened my eyes and I WAS KISSING HER! I came to just after I had casually kissed my best friend and squeaked out a GOODNIGHT! and rolled over.
I didn’t sleep a M-Fing wink that night. I stared at the wall with my heart in my throat wondering WHY I JUST RUINED MY NEW BEST FRIENDSHIP. Turns out I didn’t. She kissed me the following night and thus ensued a secret 4 year love affair. Yes, I said it… 4 years.
We stayed in the closet together for those four years until I met my first gay friend in college. Coming out to even one person in my life started to make that closet my secret gf and I were in feel really claustrophobic. Eventually we parted ways and I came out to everyone I knew within the next few months. I count my blessings everyday that my coming out was easy for me because I know not everyone experiences it this way. But coming out strengthened my relationship with every single person in my life because the parts of me that no one ever touched were no longer untouchable. I stopped filtering myself (which is also a little detrimental at times) but all of my bonds became stronger because I was letting everyone love me for all of me. All the parts of me.
My story is longer than that but I’ll get off my soap-box for now.
Also to everyone terrified out there – find your one person. Even if you aren’t ready to tell the world and even if it’s a stranger online. Tell your person because even being your true self to just one person can make a huge difference. That being said – it’s okay to not be ready. When you are ready though… you’ve got an army waiting for you.
-Mo
I think I knew that I was a part of the LGBT2QIA+ community when I got overexcited after discovering that a character on one of my favorite TV Shows was bisexual. When I realized that I was a lesbian, after weeks trying to accept that myself, I instantly told my mom, who got a hard time accepting it. But now she completely supports me and I couldn’t be more grateful.
On school, I basically came out to one person at a time ’till all of the class knew. Everyone that I told my sexuality to was happy for me and that gave me enough courage to tell my dad and then my stepmom. I still haven’t come out to my grandparents and I’m not sure if I plan on it.
But if there’s something that I’m actually sure is that talking to other Earpers helped a lot. Simply sharing experiences and hearing their stories was something that brightened up my darkest days and helped me get through my internalized homophobia. I wouldn’t have been able to survive without my friends that offered me all of the support that I needed.
i knew when i was in 7/8th grade, it’s a little hazy exactly when. but i feel so fortunate to have queer representation in media (including dominique) that helped me figure out who i am quicker than i would have on my own.
When I first came across Wayhaught. I did what the rest of us did and fell in love with their relationship. But I was kicking myself because I didn’t want to get in the headspace of feeling like I was lonely or sad because I wasn’t out yet. BUT I slowly realized it did the opposite. Shame started lifting off my shoulders as I watched this realistic depiction of two women in love. Who argued and kissed and cared deeply about one another. You don’t see that on tv often and you definitely don’t see it in good ole Missouri. Wayhaught, in a way, launched me to where I am today. I slowly have started to come out to my friends in the past couple weeks (found Wayhaught a year ago) and OH BABY that’s a big deal for me. It was only 4 years ago that I broke from my Christian bubble upbringing and said “fuck” with full confidence. Liberating. Lol. I feel more authentic than I ever have been in my life and I’m 22 years old. 22 YEARS OLD. I always thought I’d have it together by now. But Brene Brown quotes and all, I know it isn’t possible to always be authentic and have it all figured out. Heck, I still don’t know how to talk to pretty girls, how to do my taxes or how to do a cartwheel (idk why man it just never clicked) BUT I’m going to try. The being authentic part, not the cartwheel cause that shit is hard. You are valid, you are seen, and you are worthy of feeling your truest self friends.
I first Had an inclination my freshman year of college, when I began to have feelings for my best friend(10/06). I kept my feelings hidden for fear of rejection. I became involved years later, (10/11), with a girl and fell in love for the first time, I knew then who I was. I came out to close friends and family shortly afterwards. The best of them had known about my sexuality for years, so it was nice and easy. It has taken a couple of relationships for me to fully embrace myself. I’m very happy and proud of who I am.
When I found love. I didnt say anything, I’m just action speak louder than words. I think everyone, no, not everyone notice what makes me happy. But I am glad i found love and Im lil bit scared because not everyone knows or accepted my imperfection. And that’s for being a Bi. So I am not totally out because I’m scared.
