tagReviews & EssaysA tale of opening the closet door.

A tale of opening the closet door.


It's hard to find something that makes us all happy. It's even harder when you don't know where to look. It's been a long time coming for me to come out of the closet fully and to wrap my arms firmly around myself and tell the world that "Yes! I am a lesbian!".

I guess the first reason why I took so long is because no one I knew as a child (except for one special person) was gay. That special person, the one I've looked up to for most of my life was Melissa Etheridge, singer and songwriter.

If you think back a long, long time ago to a time when it was still kinda risqué to be "out", you might remember a certain Barbara Walters' episode or interview (or what ever it was, I was like 7 people so you have to forgive me if I don't remember the exact word or the exact context) when Barbara Walters asked Melissa what it was like to be a lesbian.

I was inconsolable! (I had learned difficult contexts from her lyrics and was beginning to understand her views and other's views of love.) The woman that I sang along with in the backseat of the car was a lesbian. (Not that I really understood it, I just knew that some people who were referred to as "lesbian" were looked down on.) I couldn't stand the feeling of knowing or thinking that "Missy" would be made fun of, or worse, ignored, or the absolute brink of childhood understanding... made fun of.

I think it was then that my mother and her best friend the infamous "Aunt Linda" knew that I was going to grow up like our favorite singer. Albeit, I didn't know it yet. I went on through my young life, mimicking my mother in her man hunting habits. I would woo over pop male models because my step-sister did too, I would think they were cute because I thought that cute was supposed to be felt from the "outside" and not the "inside". I felt shallow feelings.

It took a very, very special girl to find out that love was supposed to come from the depth of the heart and not from popular mode. Jesse (name changed for her sake) never told her father who I was aside from a friend, but we discovered each other in ways that only two first- loves can. But I made a bad mistake.

In trying to make a decent façade, I made her feel like I was ignoring her, and I guess in a way that only hindsight could indulge, I was. I didn't know and I guess I still don't know how to keep a relationship going on an even keel for long. The only permanent relationship I've had a model of was me and my mother (which is rocky at best and we both love each other for it), and my mother and other men. How in the world could a "born" lesbian get true knowledge from a heterosexual mother, much less one who couldn't decide what she wants in a man?

So after the bad (and I mean BAD) breakup with Jesse, I left women behind for a while (in the relationship sense anyways...), and up until recently, and tried boys once more. Four boyfriends between Jesse and my current state of single, and not a one of them could add a piece to the confused and childish puzzle that was making up my heart. I didn't understand what was missing until I realized that I wanted to hold a soft woman, and not a hard boy.

I realized when I came out to Utah to baby sit my Aunt's coffee shop that I had lost what was beginning to be me and I refused to let it happen anymore. I refused to be told that women were lesser beings because we had the ability to have children and that we all had a uterus-brain cut-off switch (which explains some what how perfectly intelligent women can let their brain melt when a child is thrust in their face, but not all women have this!).

I rebelled against being a house- wife to someone who allowed his friends to think so of me and even begin to agree that I was a bitch (which in some cases I am, I admit, but not all the time and only to certain cynical assholes...). I became a dissenter to the household or mostly males and the females who could only think about them (and a certain roommate and would-have-been girlfriend would-be instigator of infidelity wonders why I started being a bitch to her...).

So at the current I am trying to figure out a way to get my stuff from Ohio (where my new ex-boyfriend lives with all his loser friends) to Utah where I can go to school and maybe find my true self again. The self that I was unknowingly born with and longed after for a long time. Hopefully I can grind away my rough spots and begin a new life where I don't have to worry about what other people think, as long as I can find a certain woman who will come to my window.

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