On some level, I think I always knew I liked girls, I just never wanted to admit that to myself. Growing up, my family was nothing but supportive and always made sure I knew I could be whoever I wanted to be and that they would love me just the same, so I am not quite sure what took me so long to be myself. Denial perhaps. I think every little girl has imagined her wedding day at some point, the colors, the dress, the man at the end of the altar. I never thought much of it at that time, but every time I imagined my wedding, there was never a face at the end of the altar. I assumed it was just because I was either too young or I simply had no one to imagine.
Throughout my childhood and high school years, I got very good at hiding. Denying myself of being 100% me out of fear. It wasn’t until I got to college that I started to peek my head out of my hiding spot. Sophomore year, my friend Ollie asked me to go to a Pride meeting. He was the president and he thought I would benefit from being able to talk more about the queer experience with someone other than him. I tried every excuse in the book not to go. I was terrified because I knew Ollie was not going to let me stay in my hiding spot for much longer. It felt like too big of a step. My excuses didn’t work on Ollie. He saw right through me and dragged me to the first meeting of the year. And that one meeting changed everything for me. I was hooked, and Ollie didn’t have to drag me to the second, I even showed up before him. I was still terrified out of my mind, but I was chasing a newfound excitement. Something had been missing within me, and I was positive I would discover it by joining this club. I even joined the executive board of Pride as the treasurer right off the bat. I didn’t know much, but I knew I wanted to be involved, I craved more.
A few months later I was home for Thanksgiving break and that is when it really hit me. I liked girls. I remember sitting in the car with my mom and just blurting it out.
“Mom, I’m a lesbian.”
“I know.” She replied, laughing a little.
“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?” I gasp.
“Well, that’s something you have to figure out for yourself buggy. I am proud of you and I love you. Do you wanna stop for coffee before we go shopping?” She asked.
And that was that. She didn’t make it this whole big deal, but she didn’t dismiss me. I had done it, I had told one person. Someone knew besides me, I wasn’t alone anymore. I wasn’t hiding.
The first thing I did when I got back to campus was find Ollie so I could tell him.
“Hey, you okay?” He asks, concern written on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, nothing crazy. I just figured something out. I am a lesbian, and I mean obviously I had to come to that conclusion by myself, but you helped me feel safe enough to make that conclusion. So, thank you.” I gush.
“Ceci. Take a breath. I am proud of you. Also, I’ve known.”
I sigh, “Did everybody know but me? Why am I the last to know.”
“Not something I can really tell you kid, but I’ve been saving this since last semester.” He laughs, turning to pull something out of a bin under his bed.
It’s a lesbian pride flag. I throw my head back in laughter.
“I guess you really did know. Thank you.” I smile.
It was freeing to tell people. I felt like I was finally my most authentic self, and by accepting this part of myself that I had been depriving for so long I could start living. I could breathe.
Even though I (and apparently everyone else in my life), on some level already knew I liked girls, the journey to get there wouldn’t have been as easy without the support system I had. I feel so lucky to have had the support that I did, I was already terrified, and I know that if I hadn’t had a safe space to confide in I would have kept hiding, and I would have been miserable. Now in the present day, I have my wedding day planned, like most girls do. I have the Pinterest board of my color theme, I have ideas for dresses and what season I want to have it in. And when I picture it now, the woman at the end of the altar smiles at me.