My (Unofficial) Coming Out Story

I struggled with my sexuality all throughout high school and partially throughout middle school. The main part of my struggle was the inability to accept myself for who I was, who I am. Of course now I cannot fathom how I ever thought I was straight, but accepting myself and being open about my sexuality gave me a whole new perspective on the matter.

While I was in elementary school, I became overly attached to quite a few of my female friends. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, especially when girls are supposed to think boys are gross at that age. However, I was submersed in a heteronormative culture and I attended a very conservative Catholic school, so I evidently suppressed any thoughts and feelings that had anything to do with liking girls. It wasn’t until I was in sixth or seventh grade that I had my first lesbian awakening. I was watching the ever popular Desperate Housewives with my parents, and two of the female characters on the show kissed. At that moment, it was like something suddenly clicked inside of my brain. I liked girls. I liked the idea of two girls being together. It finally all made sense. But I still could not truly accept that about myself, so I again suppressed any feelings I had and attempted to be a nice heterosexual girl. While it surprisingly didn’t take that much effort, it also didn’t exactly work well for too long. I was still developing feelings for my female friends. They would tell me all about boys they liked, and I would get so jealous but just pretend I was disappointed because I wasn’t receiving any attention from boys.

During my freshman year of high school I kind of fell in love for the first time with my best friend. It was very confusing and very hard to differentiate feelings of close friendship and feelings of romance. I drove myself crazy over it. She began to date a guy who was much older than us, and I was once again disappointed. I was weary about the age difference because perverts are still unfortunately alive and well, but I also selfishly wanted her to myself. Of course, I didn’t say any of this. I didn’t actually voice my sexual confusion to anyone until sophomore year. There was this girl a year behind me that I really began to like. Let’s call her S. She would follow me around everywhere and hold my hand as we walked to class, even if her’s was in another building. I really thought that she liked me, but she would always mention this other girl she had dated so I quickly abandoned any hope. She had perviously told me that she was bisexual and I immediately blurted out that I thought I might be bisexual too. Not knowing what to make of this, I called my gay friend, and that was when I told someone for the first time that I liked a girl. It was so difficult for me to do at first, but I felt so relieved for finally having done it.

Throughout my first semester of sophomore year, I spent many nights crying and watching a mix of lesbian flicks and depressing suicidal films, all courtesy of Netflix. It was too difficult for me to come to terms with who I was, and I honestly had no idea why. I clearly did not have a problem with other gay or bisexual people, but I was afraid of being treated differently again. I was bullied nonstop from second to eighth grade, so when I finally got to high school it was my time to start over and actually make friends and not be called names. Because of this, I just stopped talking to and hanging out with S as much, but I thought about her. I thought about her all the time.

I wasn’t really all that vocal about my sexuality until the beginning of senior year. That was an interesting time in my life. So many of my friends had come out as gay or bisexual as well, so I just jumped on the bandwagon. At first, I came out as bisexual. This felt like the safest option to me at the time because I could like girls but still maintain some heterosexual privilege. But after a couple of weeks, I decided to finally be honest with myself. And for the first time, I told my friends and family that I was gay. It was probably one of the happiest and most relieving moments of my life. I was so lucky to be around so many people who accepted and supported me. At this point, I had resumed talking to S, who had now become M, and we started dating shortly after. And that’s pretty much it. No more struggle. No more shame. Just love and acceptance and a whole lot of gay.

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“Loose” Women

Being sexually active has nothing to do with a woman’s morals or the looseness of a woman’s vagina. Men are given a pat on the back for either having multiple one night stands in a short period of time or for just having a lot of sex in general. However, if women have the same sexual pattern or history as a man who “scores” a lot, then she is labeled as a slut or a whore. She is then classified as promiscuous and dirty. It is here that we are presented with a great, unjust double standard. If a straight man is having all of this wild sex, then tell me, who is he having it with? Men? No. He’s having sex with women. So, here where we find ourselves stuck in a hole of confusion and hypocrisy. It really does take two to tango. I’m sure he wouldn’t be bragging about having sex with himself. My question to you is: Why is she the whore, but he the champion? Slut shaming is when a person is called out on their sexual behavior and made of mockery of for it. Being a slut is considered to be one of the highest insults, if not the highest. Slut shaming is a horrible thing to do either to a man or a woman, but it really mostly happens to women. I don’t want to say that it only happens to women, because who knows? I do not want to be the one to make that assumption. Either way, slut shaming has to stop. Actually, our entire societal view needs to change to a more sex positive one. Middle schools and high schools in every state should have actual sex education classes. No one needs to be taught about abstinence. There’s really not that much to it. We need to inform kids/teenagers about contraceptives, and STDs, and how to properly put on and take off a condom. Those are all truly important things that a properly functioning person should be informed about. I was lucky enough to have the most thorough sex education class ever in my sophomore year of high school. This might sound odd to say, but I truly enjoyed my sex education class. I learned so much and grew even more curious about sexuality and how things work, much like I am curious about many other things in life. We should not be afraid to talk about sex because it is not disgusting, or wrong, or filthy like we are told to believe. Sex is sex. It can be used to reproduce or for personal pleasure. And yes, things can go wrong, but things can go wrong in all aspects of life. Hiding the truth about sex from our children is not going to protect them, it’s only going to hurt them in the end. Once they are informed, they can be free to make their own choices and use their own minds, but the point is to inform them and not to shove our own misguided opinions down their throats.

Another issue I want to address is “loose women” and their loose vaginas. Having sex cannot and does not loosen the vagina. Vaginas come in all different sizes, but they do not change size because of the amount of sex they have had. So, all those dirty thoughts you had about virgins? Yeah, it’s all in your mind, bud. The only act that can loosen the vagina is childbirth, but this loosening is only temporary as it goes back to its original size in about six months or so after giving birth.

A woman’s morals have nothing to do with her sexual activity. Religion and societal standards do not need to treat women like a different, lesser part of the world, furthering the dehumanization of the female kind. I just don’t see how these two things can directly relate. We’re not talking about adultery, we’re just talking about plain, old sex. Humans are not like other animals. We cannot  have sex for the sole purpose of procreation. Our desire for sexual pleasure is one of the many aspects that makes us human. Gays and lesbians are human, and they cannot procreate among their own sex. Here, we are presented with yet another issue. There are just so many issues, and the issues only lead to my perpetual frustration, but I can’t stop caring and reading about the issues. I am a flaming masochist.

Anyway, thank you for making it this far. I know this was kind of ranty, but hey, what else is the internet for?