The Chronicles of a 30-something year old lesbian — Happy coming out day to… me!
Prelude:
When I was a teen, my walls were covered in the tattered pages of skateboard and Tony Hawk magazines with a few “completely normal, completely heterosexual” half naked pictures of Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera thrown in. Any boy I liked, looked like a teenage girl with short hair. My favorite movie, Quentin Terantino’s. “Death Proof” played on repeat and I really had no fucking clue who I was or who I wanted to be. Anything I liked that was considered “too boyish” or “too gay” had some lengthy excuse as to why it wasn’t actually that way and why it didn’t actually mean that I liked girls. Unfortunately I was one of those girls that looked at girls I knew were gay and pretended to be afraid or grossed out while inside I fought an internal battle that was the same as any one of theirs. I could have been an ally, I could have stood up for them, but the fear of rejection from my mother and my peers made me someone else. As I grew older, I started becoming more vocal as an ally and started defending them knowing that even though I couldn’t admit who I was, I knew I didn’t hate others for knowing who they were. I knew the awkwardness I had shown them before was only because of societal and familial pressure to reject anyone who was different and it had nothing to do with how I felt in my heart. I think the first real change started happening in middle school although it took a few years more than this to really get comfortable with it. I had a 7th grade English teacher, we will call her Bonita, because she was not only beautiful on the outside but a truly genuine, kind soul on the inside and something intrigued me about her. Similar to Esmerelda, she had dark tan skin, dark black hair and piercing eyes. She was gentle and kind and so smart. She was different to any teacher I’d ever had before. I remember the first time I discovered I liked her but being gay can be a really confusing, tricky thing, especially before you’ve admitted that you are. So I repressed my feelings for her until I came out in my 30’s. It’s a strange feeling, finally admitting who you are after living so much of your life already. You suddenly notice all these signs and you remember all these things that should have told you that you were gay but you fought so hard not to be that you managed to deny them for decades. In the case of my 7th grade English teacher, it was a dream that I knew meant something but I gave myself what I like to call “willful, coherent amnesia” I experience something that tells me something about myself that I’m not ready to hear, so I block it out completely and distract my mind until the memory is suppressed enough that I no longer think about it. Anyway, so I had this dream. A sex dream. I was in class and all my peers scattered after the first bell rang. I stayed behind to help her push in chairs and organize books. She knelt down next to me as I sat on the floor filing things away and we glanced over at each other. I quickly got up on my knees and I kissed her and she kissed me back. I can’t remember the rest of the dream but I do remember exactly how I felt the next day in class with her. I couldn’t make eye contact, I couldn’t look up from my desk, and then it happened. She pulled up a chair between my desk and another student’s and sat between the two of us. She turned to talk to the one student and then I remember her reaching over and setting her hand on my leg. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I held my breathe, I looked at her and then looked forward and I couldn’t manage to muster up a single word to communicate with her. I think she could tell that I got uncomfortable so she removed her hand and stood up. It seems like such an insignificant memory in the grand scheme of things but after coming out it was one of the first things I thought about. Oddly enough, she tried to add me as a friend on social media recently during pride month and she had rainbows and pride flags all over her profile. She’s in a heterosexual marriage but it’s clear she was my ally before I even knew I needed one. If she’s reading this, I hope she knows how much it means to me that she tried showing me love and kindness at a time I needed it so much. Her impact on me has lasted almost 20 years and I hope she’s still teaching and making a difference in other kids’ lives like she did for me.
Today is the 2nd anniversary of my coming out, which is the reason I decided to post this entry today, to commemorate two whole years of freedom. I’ll continue with where I left off in my story in a few days. Until then, stay happy, stay gay, do whatever makes your heart jingle and your lady bits tingle.
