I thought about this one for a few days i.e. the days when I was too lazy to blog. I was very tempted to post it with the title as is and the post content being …
But then at the very last minute i.e. the last few minutes, I remembered some inner turmoil. Phew.
I never had a moment’s worry about being a dyke – other people – haters and homophobes – taught me that there were issues with it. The only thing that did bug me for some years, in a low grade kind of a way, was had my childhood and the sexual abuse made me gay? I really thought about it hard in about 1993, when I read a book about abuse, written by a lesbian and a straight woman. They made all the obvious remarks about not all abuse survivors being gay and they also interviewed a bunch of lesbians – who had all considered the very same question at some stage. One answer stuck out and comforted me and I have never forgotten it – it went something along the lines of well-who-knows-but-so-what? What a relief.
Sexual abuse led me to suicidal ideations, one serious attempt and a variety of self-harm techniques. My sexuality probably had more to do with my healing than anything else.
Once again, get this meme here.