When my oldest brother left for college, I think I was about 12. I don’t remember a lot from this time, but I do recall my mom making many weird jokes about sending him off with condoms; so, when it came to my venture into the great wide somewhere that is Kent State University, we finally had the talk about birth control.
I was never too interested in the idea, even when unsure of my sexuality. Mostly because it scared me, but also because I was pretty sure I didn’t want to ever have sex with a man. However, I entertained it for a while. I talked about it with my mom and my doctor, and I even got enough for a month. When my mom called me last week, I admitted that I had yet to start. I expressed my concerns, one of the biggest being my inability to do anything consistently in my entire life ever, so of course, how could I find myself taking the same tiny pill at the same time of the day every single day if I didn’t want to reap the consequences of feeling funny? And all of this for what by the way? I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m a lesbian.
Have you ever seen Sky High? There are a lot. Of. Hot. People. I think Layla, the cool plant girl might’ve been one of my first crushes. I’m not going to recount every female childhood crush or describe my sexual awakening in any way because I am in fact currently grossing myself out, however pretend I just painted some sort of imagery that created the point that I understood I liked women since the beginning.
I have an early memory that went something like I was watching a show on the T.V. with my mom and my dad when a gay couple appeared on the screen. I remember being confused and asking questions. My mom gave some vague, mildly homophobic explanation that followed with a reassurance that if I was ever like them, it’d be okay. HOWEVER, my dad then said something about how I would not be welcomed in the household. I think that was something that really stuck with me growing up when it came to romantic partners, sexuality or any sort of self-expression.
To follow the theme of suppression, I was very much a “yassss gay rights” girly along with the “but not me”. As a self-identified ally in high school, my freshman year lunches consisted of fighting for my life while arguing with my childhood friends that being a part of and supporting the queer community was not anything bad and that they will not in fact all burn in hell. We are not friends anymore.
It was about the end of my junior year when I think I started quietly mentioning to friends that I was bisexual. This stuck until a couple of months ago when I realized I could actually absolutely never ever be in a romantic relationship with a man. If only the Lesbian Masterdoc reached me sooner.
It eventually did, though; in a metaphorical sense. This is because when my mom told me to take my birth control or else “Dylan would happen” (my oldest brother). I finally told her I don’t think I’ll be having sex with a man any time soon. This was just a reflex, but as soon as I said it I realized what I had just admitted. At this moment she understood exactly what I meant. I mean, it wasn’t like I never gave any hints.
She followed in the classic “I would love you know matter what.” and “I just want you to be happy.” I appreciate it all a lot and I am incredibly relieved that part is over, however, I feel we’re hardly at the beginning. What happens when I get a girlfriend or a partner? Will my dad feel the same way? How will I respond to the family reunion questions asking if I have a boyfriend yet? I suppose that will all come with time. For now, though, I am at peace.