I am a Queer woman. There, I said it. That’s actually the first time I’ve ever said those words in any kind of public capacity. I’m 28 years old and just now accepting myself for who I am and coming out. So, what happened? Why this late in life admission of my soul and the people I’m attracted to.
Well, let’s start by looking at what it actually means for me to identify as “Queer”. Queer just means that I belong somewhere on the LGBTQ+ spectrum. Me personally? I date men, women, and those who are gender non-binary. Some would call me bi; some would call me pan. And, I’m fine with either of those terms – whatever makes it easier for you to understand. But I just call myself… queer.
I battled with that fact for a long time. In fact, I just recently (within the past year) stopped denying that I was also attracted to women and those who are gender non-binary and, started coming out to my family and friends.
You see, I live in Ohio. And, not only that but I grew up in an incredibly rural and… traditional… part of southern Ohio before I moved up toward Columbus later in life. And, in this small town there was one thing that was central to our community – the church. A southern Baptist church, to be exact. And, I’m not here to shit on religion or trash southern Baptists. I met some amazing people and forged some great friendships that I still value to this day. And, this particular church has come a long way in opening its minds to more accepting views in recent years. But 10-15 years ago, when I was an adolescent girl attracted to other girls attending sermons preaching about how that was wrong, and I was going to hell? That’ll cause a lot of internalized homophobia.
And even before then, I have incredibly vivid memories of being 6 or 7 and playing house with one of my girlfriends. We were pretending to be married so, she made a joke that we should kiss like married people do. And, let me tell ya my young heart was excited. Well, we got caught by a religious family member and a 30-minute lecture about how that was wrong ensued. Or, how about the time a year or two after when me and some friends were playing with our Barbie’s. And, I had one couple that was a man and a woman and, another that was two girls and got made fun of for it because “girls don’t marry girls”.
All of that played into this view that I had of myself growing up. And, it didn’t really help that I was also attracted to boys. The whole time I was wanting to kiss girls, I was also wanting to kiss boys. So, I grew up hiding and hating that side of myself.
When I graduated and went to college, it seemed like it was going to be a whole new world. It’s where people experiment and find themselves. It’s where I first heard the phrase “everyone’s a little bit gay”. It made me feel less self-conscious about my attraction to women. It’s completely normal to want to get drunk and make out with girls at parties in college, right? I mean, we’re all just having a good time. But that didn’t make me gay, or queer, or different. I was just a regular, straight, OU college girl with a drinking problem and a wild side, right?
Because even then, when we were supposed to be adults, I saw the people around me who came out as bisexual being accused of just wanting attention, being confused or greedy and, not being valid. So, surely that didn’t apply to me? Or, at least, I didn’t want it to.
And after college, I kept my circle small. I continued to date men while secretly being romantically interested in every other portion of the gender spectrum. Of course, I would make comments about women on tv and what not because, in my mind “everyone is a little bit gay” but, in my heart knowing it was more than that. The amount of people that used to taunt me, saying things like “are you sure you aren’t a lesbian” like it was some kind of slur just made me regress further into myself.
It wasn’t until my mid and late twenties that I started meeting people and, having experiences that opened my heart to accepting my whole self. Living in Columbus I began to be around more people in the LGBTQ+ community and, see how happy they were living authentically. I met one of my best friends, another Queer woman, who is just so completely herself and so in love with life. Another close friend of mine who, like me, always claimed she was straight publicly came out as bisexual when she was 29 years old and she became so… free. I began to start accepting those parts of myself too.
For so long I was afraid that me being attracted to people… not just he, not just she, not just they/them… but just people didn’t need to be something I was afraid of. I didn’t need to shut off that half of my heart and continue to deny myself the ability to pursue a relationship with any person that I’m interested in. Being me didn’t mean I was not normal, or bad, or wrong. It just meant I was Queer.
Accepting that was probably the best thing I’ve ever done. I’ve felt more free, more lighthearted and, more in tune with myself than ever before now that I’m no longer denying this incredibly integral part of my identity. I’m being granted the privilege of learning more about Queer culture from the inside. Of learning how to navigate the world without being afraid of who I am and who I have the potential to fall in love with.
Over the course of the last 8 months or so, I’ve been coming out to those who are closest to me. Some were more surprised than others. Some took it better than others. But, one thing is for sure –I don’t regret my decision to start coming out one bit. No one should ever have to hate themselves for who they love. No one should have to feel shame and a sense of “otherness”, a sense of not belonging just because they happen to not be heterosexual. Things are getting better. Even when I was publicly identifying as straight I considered myself an ally and watched in awe as gay marriage became legal and the protestors at our Pride events here in Columbus have gotten to be less and less. But, our fight isn’t done.
We need to continue to do everything in our power to ensure no children grow up hating themselves for their sexual orientation. We need to stop the stigma of homosexuality being dirty or wrong. We need to continue to work on spreading the message that love always wins. Until every gay child doesn’t fear being kicked out of their home for coming out, until every gay couple doesn’t worry that they’ll be victims of a hate crime for holding hands with their partner’s in public, until people are looked at for their heart and not who’s body they entangle with – our fight will not be over. If you’re queer or questioning, just know that I see you. I’m here for you. You are valid, you are loved. And never, ever stop fighting the fight for love.