There were so many unknowns, and everything was outside of my comfort zone. I'd been attracted to other women, gone on dates with other women, but never wanted to create a life with another woman. And following someone across the country after knowing them for two and a half months was a pretty ballsy, out-of-character move for me. And all the way there, as I sat beside two Newfoundlanders wearing hunting caps, reeking of B.O. and giving me a blatantly pervy once over, I was preoccupied with the thought that I was a lesbian now. I felt brave. Self-identifying as bisexual when involved in a long term relationship with a man is a far cry from announcing to the world that the person you want to make a home with has a vagina.
Who I am has never been a source of controversy. As a decently attractive athletic twenty four year old white woman with a post secondary education and the support of a fantastic family, I have never before known what it feels like to have people dislike me based on something I can't change about myself. I have never been part of any kind of minority, unless being unusually tall counts. Being a dyke is new and shiny and interesting; I want to take it out often and look at it. I am learning to sit with the tension and discomfort created when someone turns away after realizing the person holding my hand, or kissing my cheek is female. I am learning to transform my irritation and embarrassment into curiosity, and to react with amusement at occasional disgusted looks of elderly churchgoers (although many churchgoers smile and mind their own beeswax, and I'm not hating on the churchy-folk) or the catcalls of young men driving past us. Mostly it is peculiar for me, because I am still the same person I was when I was in a heterosexual relationship, yet some people react as though I have a huge hairy growth where my head used to be. The only differences are certain physical characteristics of my significant other.
(CHEESEBALL ALERT) We do not choose who we are attracted to, and I feel so lucky to have found someone who complements my life so completely. All of us should be so welcomed, loved, wanted, cared for, heard, and safe. This is what I choose to open myself to receiving. This is what matters.
|Nervous iphone self-portrait, sent the day before I left for Newfoundland|