It took me years to feel comfortable utilizing “lesbian” as a way to describe myself. Even though I had made it to a point where I no longer questioned my sexuality, I still found myself pausing and struggling to spit out the word when someone would inquire about me as a person. I wrestled with this for a lot of years and for a number of reasons. The first was because I had convinced myself that this lack of comfortability with the label must mean that I am not proud of who I am. In a way, I knew this to be nonsense because I could not have been more ecstatic to finally be living my truth after years of uncertainty and secrecy. While on the other hand, I could not understand why it was so hard for me to identify with the title. I knew that I was perfectly fine with everyone knowing that I was a lesbian – so why couldn’t I just say the word myself without being struck with anxiety? Labels and titles are certainly not for everyone. But after having spent a lot of time hiding who I was, I was ready to identify with not only myself, but to share that identity with others proudly.
I am a believer that the second reason I struggled so deeply to associate with this label is due to the stigma that surrounds what a lesbian is “supposed” to look like. I was victim to this foolishness by allowing myself to feel like I did not represent the title; that I did not fit the societally deemed mold that seems to be reserved for gay women. Still, in 2020, this misconception of how a lesbian should look, or dress, is woven into the minds of so many. We are supposed to be butch. Tomboys. Anything but representative of femininity.
You have long, flowing hair? No way you could possibly be into girls. You wear dresses? HA, a lesbian only wears flannels and baggy jeans. You do your make-up? You apply LIPSTICK? Well then you’re definitely not gay; everyone knows lesbians don’t care what they look like!
To some of you this may sound so silly. You may be on the progressive side of this decade and know that LGBTQ+ people come in incredibly diverse packages. However, a large amount of people, much larger than you may think, are not quite there yet. It is astonishing how often I still encounter comments such as these:
“You’re gay? Oh my gosh, I would have never known!”
“Wow, you’re such a pretty lesbian.”
“I can’t believe you have a wife. I would have never guessed.”
If you’ve been coming here awhile, you know that I try to maintain a tone of grace with anything that I write – especially when a topic presents opportunity for controversial feelings. This piece is no different than the rest. So here it is, that moment where I lean into grace. I am acutely aware that these types of comments that I am faced with are mostly innocent. They are not at all meant to be offensive or belittling. I can understand their statements because I may be the only gay person they have ever met in real life. Up until our encounter, their exposure to queer women was likely limited to dancing with Ellen every weekday afternoon or laughing at Janis Ian from Mean Girls; both an example of what a large portion of society envisions a lesbian to look like. So what these people and their comments are eluding to is that they have never seen a lesbian that looks like me. And if I am honest, I’m honored to be the one to open their eyes to the fact that gay people are just as diverse as any group of humans.
However, while these comments may not be intentionally offensive, they do present an opportunity for furthering inclusion. As a part of the LGBTQ+ community, there are a plethora of opportunities to feel ostracized from the outside world. Whether it is due to being the only gay person in your family or friend group, or the lack of representation of the LGBTQ+ perspective in books and television, we all come face to face with our minority status on occasions; some more than others. So by sharing sentiments of shock when a feminine woman tells you that she is also a gay woman, you are potentially presenting another opportunity for that woman to feel as if she does not belong; this time, to her own community. It is a reminder that because of how she is dressed, or because of her bright lipstick, or her false eyelashes, she is not recognized for who she is.
This brings me to the third and final reason I found myself wrestling with the ability to speak the label of lesbian out loud. It is because others wrestle with it, too. I was conditioned to believe, whether consciously or subconsciously, that it was a dirty word. A scary one to say. I have been present when friends and family of mine were not quite sure how to introduce my girlfriend, shaky in their delivery. I have been victim to my grandpa only referring to my wife as my “buddy” because describing her for what she actually is presented too much uncomfortability. I have been a part of too many conversation to count in which a person lowers their voice to say “gay” or “lesbian”, as if it is a curse word. These actions perpetuate homophobia more than what is realized. By lowering your voice to say gay, the LGBTQ+ youth in the room are being molded to believe that they cannot live loudly. They cannot love proudly. It may seem so small, but it speaks volumes, like a beating drum, inside the mind of a young queer person.
I encourage you to become comfortable with these labels. I urge you to say them loudly and proudly, especially in the presence of your LGBTQ+ friend or family. An action like that suggests that you are not only comfortable with the word, but that you celebrate a part of their identity. You are not afraid or uneasy in regards to who they are; you cherish them. This is a free and intangible gift that you can give to someone of the queer community, especially one that is new to their truth.
LGBTQ+ people are just as diverse as the wider world. We come in a variety of races and from a number of backgrounds. We are your coworkers, your neighbors, your classmates, and your family. We are fellow parents at your schools and sisters and brothers at your church. We span across the globe and we have differing beliefs. We do not come in a one-size fits all package. I encourage you to remember that the next time you feel shocked by someone’s appearance when they share with you their identity. Whether a person represents exactly what you assumed an LGBTQ+ person to look like, or completely opposite, both deserve your kindness and gentleness. Both deserve inclusivity.
My name is Kaila. I love getting dressed up and going on date nights with my wife. I love finding a new shade of lipstick for the season and own way too many pairs of shoes. I teach cycle classes, I love to drink champagne, and my hair is almost always curled. I am a woman of the LGBTQ+ community and THIS is what a lesbian looks like.
