Rainbow is my flag (journal entry)

Seventeen years ago I wasn’t like this.

I realized I’m attracted to girls when I was in college, and as someone who grew up in a Catholic household, I tried to suppress it. But I failed.

Somehow, I learned to just let it be. To accept that part of me. I made it through, but even then I still couldn't call myself a lesbian. I dodged that word like a bullet, ashamed to be labeled as such. So I hid it from everyone else.

Six years later, I got into my first relationship. But even then it was hard to hold her hand; being seen with her in public. I was so afraid someone I know would see us. I was afraid I would be talked behind their backs. So I hid our relationship, which eventually took a toll on me. We broke up later on.

I met friends in the community which immediately became my place of comfort. But I couldn't even tell my family about them, afraid they might know I was one of them. I was afraid they’d think badly of me once they found out the truth. I made lies just to keep us safe. This lasted for ten years.

Half of my family have died not knowing who I was. All my living family now still don't know.

I'm in my thirties now. Single. Never had a boyfriend. Not interested in having one. Before, I couldn't even say these words. But only recently, I came out to a clinic nurse when she kept on asking me why I refused to have a boyfriend. “I'm not straight,” I told her, a playful smirk in my lips as I looked her in the eye. I watched as her shock turned into understanding, and it was all good. God, I never thought it'd be that easy

I don't hide my friends from my family anymore. They now know they're two ladies who live together with their cats and are now engaged. When same-sex marriage was brought up before elections this May, I shared my stance. Surprisingly, it was a healthy discussion.

All my life, I avoided anything and everything LGBTQIA related that could be associated with me. But now, I’ve made it a habit to include the pride flag or anything rainbow in my social media profiles. I’m now comfortable labeling myself as a lesbian–not the flowery sapphic I used to be–but a straight to the point lesbian.

I’m now engaging in WLW posts, showing my face in public profiles, sharing funny experiences as a loser girl-lover. I’m on the lookout for community events, hoping to meet new friends, fellow creatives, and who knows, my future partner.

I dress now without fearing what others may think of me. I wear Pride shirts with pride, baseball caps with sass. Short hair, shirts, sneakers. I’m planning to get piercings and tattoos as well. If they don't like what they see, they can look away. I don’t care anymore.

I’ve been hiding for so long. Now, I’m making myself visible. I deserve to be seen. I want to be seen. I won’t apologize for taking space. I’m not dimming my light anymore. I won’t adjust just to make others comfortable. I’m not the same person I was seventeen, ten, five years ago.

I’ve grown. Brought light to many parts of me that had been hurt. Nourished the parts of me that were deprived of care. There’s still a lot of work to do, and on days I fail to muster the courage I need, or manage to show up, I tell myself there’s still another day. I’ve already done so much for myself without realizing it, and I’m sure I’ll be able to do more.

I just have to keep going.