For me, the need to come out didn’t come from a place of wanting acceptance, It came from me wanting to share my happiness. I was in love with a girl for the first time, couldn’t hide it and didn’t want to. Coming out as a 27 year old single mother, people had a lot to say. Are you sure you’re gay? You have to more than like girls to be a lesbian. Why now? You’re a lesbian (puzzled face), what about your daughter? How did that happen? Oh and my favourite , We’re just concerned for the little one, have you thought about how this will affect her?’
Lucky for me i had thought those things through before I told anyone, because I am, a mother. I am a mother who chose to have my child. She was wanted two years before she came. I wanted her to have a father, and I gave her that. I think about bringing up my little girl in this cruel world. I think about how I can protect her, keep her safe and help her grow the confidence to believe in herself, even if others don’t. Children learn from example so I plan to show her how to stand up for what she believes and to love herself enough to do so.
Life for me has very much been a journey of discovery, as I expect it is for many. I am and have always been my biggest critic. So I question my mistakes, explore my emotions and try to understand and accept my flaws. Trying to find the answers I need to be the best version of me, is an on-going journey of growth. I have always been gay, I just never looked at myself long enough to really know it. My very first sexual experience was with a friend, at a sleep over when I was about 10 or 11. I told my mother, who in turn told the girls hard back Jamaican God fearing strict enough to beat you with a television cable mother. I have hazy memories of the four of us sitting at the dining table, Mums talking, asking questions and the girl, her head bowed looking at the table. She never looked up. Never saw or spoke to her again after that. That memory lived in a box in my head I pretended wasn’t there.
As I grew older I would hear of friends having “great sex” and thought what’s wrong with me that I don’t enjoy it. Low self-esteem meant I would accept the attention I got never really thinking about what I want and definitely not looking for it. I thought the reason sex wasn’t very good for me, was because I was doing something wrong. I never told anyone how repulsive I think the penis is. I just didn’t look.
Part of me does feel a little sad that it took so long for me to ask myself the right questions. But I am not regretful for of the journey because I have been blessed with this beautiful, full of life, intelligent and talented little girl.