Memoirs of a Confused Lesbian

Dear Readers, I have decided to write a memoir about my experience as a confused lesbian. Throughout my journey of discovering my sexuality, I also discovered many other illuminating facts about myself. This memoir has been a journey within itself, as well as a process in cathartic healing. My aim is to provide humor and relevance. This is a raw rough draft and you all are my Beta readers. I would appreciate any feedback. I anticipate releasing a few paragraphs at a time - like a serial magazine/newspaper story.

What is a confused lesbian? Difficult to say, except that I know that I am one. How do I know? Well, I’m attracted to women and I’m generally confused as to why more of them aren’t attracted to me. I guess I should start my story at the beginning.

When I was in first grade, I went to a public magnet school. My school had once been a high school and there was a gravel track that ran around the playground. Before we could play, we always had to walk or run 2 laps. One day, my teacher walked with us. Somehow, we got onto the topic of birth and motherhood. I was a very curious child and I had a lot of questions. I remember saying something to the effect of “I wonder if a baby could have two mommies.” I don’t remember what my teacher said, but I’m sure it was something fairly non-committal. Trust me, I know. I taught for 8 years and kids really do say the strangest things.

In second grade, I used to chase boys around the playground and tried to kiss them. I never did. Also in second grade was the first time I distinctly remember hearing the word “sex” for the first time. For a project, we had to pick out a picture cut out of a magazine. I chose a picture of a bear. I decided to write a love story about the bear and his wife. I remember asking my assistant teacher if I could use the word “s-e-x” in my story and she said no.

In third grade, I transferred to a local Catholic school because my mom wanted to make sure that I received a more rigorous education. My third grade teacher was pregnant. I distinctly remember one time when she was leaning over my desk and I caught a glimpse of her cleavage. It didn’t arouse me, but rather I was just very curious. As a nine year old, I still had a child’s body, so I always looked at the older girls or women at my school to see what my body might look like in a few years. At the end of the school year, there was an awards ceremony. My school went up to the eighth grade. A middle school girl received an award. I can vividly remember her walking up to the stage to get her award - she had already physically matured and her breasts bounced up and down as she walked. I was transfixed. That was the first time I was attracted to a female body. I immediately dismissed it because it wasn’t “normal.” I never told anyone - and you, readers, are the first to hear of it.

Readers, you may be thinking, “wow, she was very sexual at a young age.” And I guess you would be right. I didn’t realize how sexual I was until I started my outline for this memoir. Why am I like this? Is it because I’m gay? Do other people in the queer community experience early sexualization? Is it because I’m a Scorpio? Because, according to my zodiac, Scorpios are the most passionate and most sexual. But I’ve never been able to figure out if I really believe in astrology or not. I think sometimes I believe in it but at other times, I dismiss it. I guess it’s just like conservative white men - sometimes they believe in science and sometimes they don’t - they believe in it when it suits them. Except science is always real. It’s always fact. Whereas astrology….I haven’t figured that out yet.

I’ve always suppressed my over-sexuality because I was embarrassed by the deep feelings that I had and that they weren’t “normal” for my age. If you ask anyone who knew me in high school, they would tell you that I was a prude. And they would be right. Except I was a prude because I was ashamed of my sexual curiosity. I didn’t think a whole lot about sex necessarily, but I wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone. I was a late bloomer - I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 19.

To be Continued...