BroccoliBiatch is an amazing writer, and we love her LGBT Awareness Month contribution! —Sparkitors
I’m just going to let the title of this post sink in for some of you, as I know that some Sparklers havecertain opinions on topics such as this. While it sinks in, I’m going to introduce myself, though some of you may know me from my rants on any vaguely gay-related posts (and I do mean rants, some of you probably really don’t like me).
I’m BroccoliBiatch, or Lilith, if you like. I’m female. I’m 17 years old. I’m from the UK. I’m currently studying at art school. My hobbies include long walks on the beach, candlelit dinners—just kidding. I like in-line skating, fashion, reading and vegan cuisine. I also bake pretty badass cakes.
I feel as though I should put this out there firsthand, so I don’t get asked—I’m an atheist. I know that’s pretty controversial.
The title of this article has probably sunk in enough by now.
I’m an out and proud gay girl. Or lesbian, for ease of typing. I really can’t find the energy to type out "gay girl" over and over. I suppose I could copy and paste but…mehhh. I digress.
I suppose I should start from the beginning, really, and that is probably the school I devoted 10 years of my life to. You might recognize me from a post, if you actually read it, about surviving an all-girls private school. If you put that into the context of being gay and closeted, well…it wasn’t always fun and games.
I didn’t get interested in dating until "high school," as you call it in the states. I’d already been at my private school for five years at this point, and my pre-pubescent brain only really cared about grades and Creative Writing (capitalized to signify its importance and godlike status in my young mind). Oh, and MERIT STICKERS. MEEEEERIIIIITTTT SSSTIIIICCKKKKKKEEEERRRRRS. Excuse me while I wipe the drool off my face…
Year 7 was fine. I did really well, I got good grades, and I made friends. Fabulous really. Year 8 went much the same. Then we come to year 9.
My first kiss was a dare, on a coach ride back from a school trip. It was with my best friend at the time, who admits nowadays that she may have had some homosexy feelings for me back then. EXTREME DRAMA, AS I HAD A FULL-FLEDGED CRUSH ON HER AT THE TIME. Oh, life. Sometimes you are awesome, but sometimes, you just plain SUCK.
It wasn’t some big tongue kiss or anything. But it lit something up in my brain, something I’d never really considered. From then on, I labeled myself as bisexual, if only because it still gave me a perceived "safety net" of at least being half straight. Being bi is a perfectly valid and real orientation. Just not mine.
My school was very old-fashioned. The girls who went there all wanted gay best friends, just not ones of the female variety. I dated boys to try to suppress what I felt inside, make myself "fit in." Never mind that these "relationships" were short-lived and involved little to no physical contact—I was doing a decent job, or so I thought, of hiding. Even though I wouldn’t even hold hands with my boyfriends. Even though I never lasted more than two dates. Just a pointer here, a Homotip if you will: lying to yourself will only lead to hating yourself. See later.
I have always liked having short hair and for all of senior school (grades 8-12) I had short hair. I still have it now, in fact. It was as early as year 8 that I was asked (aggressively) by an older girl in a bathroom if I was some kind of lesbian. My reply was obviously, “Why, you interested in this hot piece of action?!” I lie. My reply was more like, “No, why?! -shifty eyes-
I started to really hate myself from years 9 to 11. I knew there was nothing wrong with being gay—I started going to my city’s Pride marches around this period, "as an ally"—but I also thought I would be shunned by people I had called friends. No doubt the gossip would become that I had been looking at girls undressing in the locker rooms before PE. Which, y’know, not so much, actually.
Homotip numero dos: homosexuals are not all out to molest and convert you, and just because we like people of our own sex does not mean we like ALL people of our own sex. We have standards and preferences, just like you hetero folks. We also generally do not go after known heterosexuals–if I wanted to do something stupid, painful and embarrassing, I’d go and bang my face repeatedly into a brick wall whilst naked, thanks.
I got to year 11, miserable. I wanted to make great art but the school didn’t like it. I wanted to come out but the school wasn’t prepared for a gay kid amongst the masses. In sex education, like most schools, sexuality wasn’t covered apart from on the briefest of terms ("some people are gay"). My real-life best friend RagingLunatic and I made a promise to get out of the school for sixth form/college.
We did leave, and that’s Homotip number 3. To any LGBT+ youth out there, maybe reading this, it does get better. I hate that is has become the standardized attitude, to outlast bullies rather than stop them, but I swear, it gets better as soon as you get out. Once you are able to start over and present yourself as who you really are, people back off if they don’t like you and stay with you if they do. As Dr Seuss said, the people who mind don’t matter, and the people who matter don’t mind. Wise words.
Now I am at art school, and nearing the end of my first year. I came out to my college friends within months of meeting them. The first person I came out to however was RagingLunatic, and let me tell you, my sexuality hasn’t changed our relationship at all. We talk about girls I like the same way we talk about boys she likes. We still overshare to a ridiculous amount. Everybody (save for a few idiots) treats me with the respect I deserve.
I came out to my old school friends after that. They all exhibited very little surprise–Homotip #4 right here, kids: if you’re worried how your friends/family will react when you tell them the "Earth-shattering" news, chances are, they knew before you did, on some level.Wouldn’t it be helpful if they told you, am I right?! My older brother always knew; intuitive git. I love him really.
This left only my parents. I should tell you about them, I think.
My mum and dad are possibly the happiest married couple in the world. They’ve been married for 28 years, which is over half of both their lives, and they’re still in the honeymoon period. They just generally live a loved-up existence which makes me fret that I’ll die alone.
They are also extremely liberal. My dad was even symbolically sacrificed as the Corn God by lesbian witches while at university–and no, I am not exaggerating. And yet I was terrified to tell them. I only told them on 24th April this year.
The story of my coming out is so anti-climactic. I had been trying to get up the courage for about four months, and so imagine the scene: about 11 pm. Me in my bedroom, listening to Fall Out Boy to try to pump myself up for it. I’d been trying to get it out since 8 pm. RagingLunatic was telling me over MSN to do it now (!!!). I told myself, “I need to do it now or I’m going to go to bed feeling like a failure because this is the closest I’ve ever gotten.”
I got up, and I went and knocked on my parents’ bedroom door. They let me in. I stared at them and took a deep breath.
Lilith: Um. There’s something I need to tell you guys but I’m probably going to cry.
[Mum gestures for her to sit down, and takes her hand.]
Lilith: Um. I may be gay. So there’s that.
[Pause]
Lilith: I’ve been trying to say this for about four hours.
Mum: Oh, sweetie. [hugs daughter, who, as promised, cries]
Lilith: I only didn’t say sooner because it’d make things real.
[Dad takes her hand, Mum pulls back]
Mum: Sweetie, if this is who you are, it has always been real. You are just Lilith. Besides, we already had an inkling.
Lilith: [freezes] Um, what? How?
Mum: Well, it’s the haircuts. [Mum, a short-haired, tattooed roller-derby player, grins. Lilith contemplates the irony of that statement]
Dad: I am not saying a thing about that comment. [shakes head at Mum, hugs his daughter]
Mum: Okay, I’m kidding, my hair is gayer than yours, but seriously, we just kinda knew.
Dad: This doesn’t change who you are, sweetie. Thank you for telling us.
I then went to bed and cried for two hours out of sheer relief. Let me tell you, I have never known terror like it; it was like the feeling you get before you jump from a great height, where you know you’re gonna be completely on your own midflight, no way of stopping, then you either land fine or you break your ankle. Hella terrifying.
Everything has carried on as normal for me since I came out. I can even talk to my folks about girls and stuff. It’s strange and surreal but my heart feels full to bursting with happiness. But honestly, I am just like any girl my age. I have friends, I go out, I study, and I get crushes. I plan to get married. I hope I’ll meet the love of my life someday. I worry about my work, I worry about my looks, I read, I write. What does it matter what sex the person I like is?
Occasionally my hair outs me to idiots, though; I have a pixie cut which I dye myriad colours, and this causes chavs at my college to cough and say "lesbian" under their breath at me. My friends stick up for me when I’m not too busy sticking up for myself. Good friends will love you no matter who you love; remember that, fellow homogays.
Homotip #5: seek refuge in the community you have been born into! It sounds ridiculous but I could not have come to terms with my sexuality without the people I’ve spoken to online.
I wish my thoughts were more organized and more hilarious. I’d love to write more about this if people are interested. I’d love to answer your questions. But for now, I’ve got to study, eat, and daydream about my crush. Stuff you might usually do. Just my crush is another girl.
I am hoping to hit it off with her. Wish me luck.
For those of you questioning your sexuality, remember that there's people out there supporting you, and will love you no matter who you are. (Unless you, know, kick babies or something.)
-ExperiencedNovice
