Queer relationships and the “small town bubble”
by Lyra Web
I’m from a farming town in the North of England. It’s one of those places where sheep outnumber people, everyone knows everyone, and most of the local families have been there for generations. I’m a queer person who wanted to move somewhere different and find other openly queer people, so you can see how I wasn’t a great fit for the town. Little gay me in my dungarees and big boots felt out of place, misunderstood, and very, very lonely.
I spent most of my younger years in overalls and wellies (some called it tomboyish, but I call it lesbian stereotype) rolling in mud or jumping in rivers or climbing hills in the pouring rain. This was the perfect place for younger me because I loved the freedom and the untouched beauty and the quiet safety that let me wander off by myself and explore. I was lucky to be raised in such a special place, but as I got older, the sense of freedom died. I realized how sheltered I was, how little diversity I’d seen, and how uneducated people tended to be on issues of identity and social justice. Similarly, at school I was silenced and forced be someone I’m not by an outdated culture that made me feel really unwanted. My later school years left me with signs of trauma that still affect me today, but as my identity has been allowed to grow, I’ve been able to reclaim it.
Looking back, I don’t know how I didn’t realize I was queer sooner. I remember catching myself staring at other girls as a young teenager and justifying it to myself by saying I was jealous of the way they looked. A question of sexuality would occasionally pop into my head but for some reason I didn’t think I was special enough to be in that minority, and so I kept pushing the thought away.
When I was 14, all the girls around me were suddenly talking about boys and it just seemed normal to join in even though I had no real interest. I had my first kiss soon after and continued to think I was straight for years. I flirted a lot and was in a few relationships, but I quickly would quickly get bored and end them. I ended my last straight relationship after a few months when my mental health was going through a really rough patch. The guy was sweet and understanding but I just wasn’t feeling anything as the relationship progressed past the month mark, but somehow, I still didn’t realize that this pattern might mean I just wasn’t attracted to men. A few weeks after we broke up, I came out… Surprise!
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I came out to a few close friends when I had just turned 17. I’d finally realized that I was looking at girls because I thought they were attractive, and I was bored by boys because I thought they weren’t. I’d built up quite a group of queer friends online who helped me in my journey to self-acceptance and welcomed me into the community, but in my real life I was getting more and more lonely. One of my only school friends at the time cut ties when I came out to him, and suddenly, what had once been a fleeting question was now a definitive label and it was getting more difficult to hide. I wanted to explore my newfound identity. My entire being was consumed with dreams of moving away and wearing rainbows and kissing girls but it seemed unreachable from my tiny house outside a tiny town in the middle of nowhere.
When the end of school was finally within reach, I bought my first dungarees and Doc Martens, and cut my hair off, donating over a foot to charity. Rumors started spreading round school that I was gay, and I realized I didn’t mind. I had the power of hope that had got me through a really tough final few years of school and at last I was out (in more ways than one) in the real world. At university I really settled into my identity. I finally bought a pride flag and added the compulsory queer pride patches to my denim jacket. My collection of Doc Martens was growing, and I was really starting to heal and love myself. I joined the university LGBTQ+ society and that changed my life, because through that society I met my first girlfriend.
We’ve been together just over 18 months now, and she continues to be amazing. It’s safe to say I went through the phase that many queer people experience when they finally get to be themselves and suddenly start acting like a teenager again. I’d been waiting so long to hold hands with a woman and kiss someone without getting bored that when I got there I was completely overwhelmed.
In the time I’ve been with her, there have been so many firsts outside just the usual relationship ones. This was my first real relationship that lasted more than a few months. A few days after my first gay kiss I got to celebrate my first non-lonely Valentine’s day. I had my first new year’s kiss, my first fancy date, my first trip to the other end of the country to stay with her for a week over summer. The big one for me was the moment I found myself standing in the middle of my first pride parade with my new friends, wearing a rainbow flag as a cape, holding a home-made banner in one hand and my girlfriend’s hand in the other.
This feeling was worth waiting for but a part of me still regrets that I had to go through so much hurt and repression to get here. Small communities and schools need to be given resources to support and understand queer youth, because nobody should have to wait until their twenties to feel at home.
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