Tag Archives: 30 days

Day 7 – How your parents took it or how you think they might take it

The only parent I gave (and give) a shit about telling, is my mother – and that was also my first coming out story, so I’ve done this bit of the meme already.

If any other parental type creatures pass by…well, fuck off actually.

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Day 6 – Did you face any problems regarding religion?

Not in terms of my own home – we were all lapsed catholics. Trouble with religion, again, was purely an external thing – right wing fundamentalist godbotherers croaking balefully about doomsday on street corners + the edges of pride marches and so on. And the memorably flabby pale man on the beach who said that god had in fact made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. Genius.

That’s about it really and those fools are all leap of faith epic logic fails anyway.


Day 5 – Thoughts regarding inner turmoil about your sexuality; Did you have any? Did it escalate to self-injury or suicidal thoughts?

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 …

No.

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.


Day 4 – The first person you came out to and that story

I suppose everyone’s “coming out story” tends to be the first person they came out to, don’t they? Anyway, whether it is or not, as somebody said to me rather huffily once, “coming out is not a linear process.” You have to come out to yourself first, probably – and then start inflicting your pride or shock or shame or whatever you feel at that stage, on to your world, to varying degrees.

The one I tell is one I have told so often that I am completely and utterly and totally sick of it – in fact these days I can just supply a link to it – but I won’t. I’ll tell you that I was 21 or so, on a separate continent to my mother and that I drank the better (worse?) part of a bottle of Stoli and phoned her. And then I made her guess. What an arse I was. It went something like this:

Her: You’re not pregnant are you?
Me: *hysterical laughter*
***paaaaaaause***
Her: Are you a lesbian?
Me: (sobered up fast) Yes.
Her: Oh! Do you have your very own closet? Is it pink?

That’s the story I have told proudly ever since.

It never even occurred to me that I would get a negative reaction actually. I have a gay stepbrother (yo stranger!) and I was brought up never to feel superior to anybody, to know that “different strokes for different folks” was a good thing to remember and so although I was as nervous as the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof, it was more an English sort of repression/embarrassment than anything remotely to do with my sexuality.

That’s almost twenty years ago now and so I have many, many coming out stories.

Thanks to  fuckyeahlgbt for the 30 day queer meme.


Day 3 – How old were you when you knew? What was that like for you?

I’m not sure. I know I wondered about it occasionally as a kid, because I was always falling for lovely women, but I have no idea how old I was. In a way, it was just always there somewhere as a concept, but one without stress or angst attached. Apart from having an older stepbrother who was gay and a mother who seemed very liberal to me, I had other stuff to think about. Books. Music. Sexual abuse. Horses. Stuff. I was telling my gf the other day though, how when I had decided to go overseas – to go to London from South Africa – that I sat one day (in a parrot aviary, as it happens) and made a long list over several pages of a notebook, of all the things I wanted to see, do and resolve overseas. And “am I a lesbian?” was a very significant inclusion on that list …

Once again, here’s the link to the original meme.


Day 1 – Your sexual orientation or gender identity.

Very late on the 30-day bandwagon…more of an outrider..or merely a straggler, perchance..anyway, I started thinking that perhaps I should write on this blog occasionally again – so I went in search of a prompt or thirty.

…and that’s how far I got.  Clicking the image will swoosh you off to the home of the meme.

Day 1 – Your sexual orientation or gender identity.

What the hell, I shall admit to both. Being an old fashioned modernist, I tend to link the two i.e. I am a woman who likes to *censored* other women woman and thus I consider myself a lesbian. I’m not challenging anyone else’s liberated postmodern definitions and identities, but mine are still very simple. I do not consider that this makes me a superior being. For that, I rely on my remarkable good looks. I’m so retro that despite being a feminist, I spell woman, “woman” and while I never deny being a lesbian, from a semantic/attitude position, “dyke” is what I like to be dubbed.