Question: I am a lesbian. How did I realize it/come out?

Question: I am a lesbian. How did I realize it/come out?

Answer:

This is a good question for me to answer. I’m not normally the type to be out in the open like this, but I think that there is something special about coming out stories that just bonds people together who already feel pretty alone. Some of you might be able to relate to me and others might take this as something to consider if they are still currently hiding. This answer might get a little long because I will be breaking it down into parts. Three to be exact. I will refer to them as “When I Knew”, “When I Accepted”, and “When I Came Out”.

When I knew:

I know a lot of people who say they always knew they were gay or always felt that they were different in some way. I would have been one of those who always knew they were different in some way. It’s actually a little challenging to explain the fact that I always knew, but never accepted it. So let me try and simplify it as much as possible (while possibly embarrassing myself pretty badly). I always knew I was different in the fact that when I was younger and watched Power Rangers (the original), I liked the pink ranger. Not because I wanted to be like her because she was the pretty or popular one, but because I thought she was cute. I knew I wasn’t suppose to tell anyone I thought she was cute because she was a girl, but the fact that I thought it nonetheless didn’t really register to me as meaning I was gay. Just that it wasn’t normal.

Some people, primarily my mother, would say that that fact doesn’t make you gay. Okay. Fair enough. Thinking a girl is cute doesn’t make you gay. But having crushes on some of your female teachers since third grade may be pushing you in that direction. So, yeah. All of those crushes always made me feel that I was different than everyone else. Most girls in my classes loved to pine over the boys. I wanted to be part of the crowd, so I did to. Of course once I got said boy… I didn’t really know what to do with him. Well, I knew, but I really had no interest.

When I accepted:

This took some time. For several reasons. I am a firm believer that you cannot pressure someone into feeling it is the right time to accept their sexuality. Every time someone told me it was okay if I told them, or just asked me if I was, I would be that much more determined to hold fast to my ‘straightness’. I always have been a bit of a tomboy, or as my sister recently dubbed me “a soft butch” because I don’t feel comfortable in dresses but rather jeans and a tee-shirt. I wear minimal makeup and hate clothes shopping. Which are apparently signs of a ‘normal’ female. But with my preferred manner of dress, I seemed to give off a lot of gay vibes in high school. My best friends asked me quite often if I was and I would always deny it. It’s not that I saw myself as straight, wanting to settle down with a husband or anything, but I just wasn’t ready to admit to myself that I was gay.

I can go into a great amount of detail with that but I will move on to explain the biggest reason why I didn’t even admit my sexuality to myself. Most can understand keeping it from friends, but maybe not from denying it completely to yourself. But here is how it happened for me. This… this is probably the hardest thing for me to share because I know more than just my emotions are involved in it. But when I was still in high school, my sister (5 years older and already moved out at the time) decided to come out to my mother as a bisexual. I had known for awhile that she was so it was no surprise. What I wasn’t expecting was my mother’s reaction.

We had been raised to believe that everyone is equal and deserves to be treated with respect. We were raised to know that just because someone thinks or feels differently, doesn’t make them any less of a human being nor gives you the right to treat them with disrespect. With that being said, my mother’s reaction shocked me, hurt me, and pushed me further into denial.

I came home from school one day and my mother was sitting on the couch crying uncontrollably. She had tears just pouring down her face and was sobbing. Before I could even step into the house and shut the door, she turned to me and in the harshest tone I had ever heard her use asked “Are you a dyke too?”. I remember pausing because I had the wind knocked out of me. This was the woman who taught me to be accepting and yet she was… I just… Anyway. Once I could speak again, I said no. I wasn’t. And left it at that, continuing to listen as she told me of the ‘shit’ that my sister was putting her through. My denial lasted for another five years after that.

When I came out:

Honestly, the first person I ever confirmed my sexuality to will probably read this on here. Writing actually gave me the courage to accept it for myself and this little on-line family that has emerged from BWYDT made me feel comfortable enough to come out online. While my acceptance took years (over a decade actually), my coming out really only took a few weeks. I came out (in person) to my sister first. The night before I got my tattoo just so you all know. She was supportive, of course. Then I ended up coming out to my mother a week later, which I hadn’t actually planned on doing at all.

It was rough for the main reason of when I was going to confess that I got a tattoo, she was terrified that I was actually coming out. When I told her that wasn’t what I wanted to tell her, she stated that she could take the knife out of her chest then… Yeah. That’s encouragement to tell someone something right there. But that statement had bothered me a great deal and I brought it up to her a few days latter. Conversation ensued and I came out. She laughed, asked if I was joking, and then spent the next thirty minutes dissecting my previous relationships with guys trying to convince me that I wasn’t gay. She called my dad at work and told him. All I could think of was “Surprise! Now try and finish your shift.”

That was a few weeks ago and neither of them have brought it up since. It’s as if nothing was ever said. Now they just don’t ask me when I’m going to bring a boyfriend home for them to meet anymore. Okay, so you asked and I answered, even managing to keep it shorter than my other post. (But only by 100 words or so) Keep the questions coming and I will work on answering them. I might combine a few of the shorter responses together, but I will try and get to all of them.