Judging by the title, I wouldn't blame you for thinking this is going to be a rage piece—a rant against cis LGB people. It's not. I've come to terms with the fact that, as a trans person, I have to be cautious of every single cis person I meet, regardless of whether they are also LGB. I want to explain what I mean by that, because there is every chance that there is a cis LGB person reading this and thinking, "but why? we're in the same community," and you wouldn't be wrong, but for trans people it's not that simple.
I know none of you know who I am, but it’s within strangers that you’ll find some of the most interesting stories. Here’s the story of how I found my soulmate.
When I was the tender young age of seven I knew that I wasn’t a girl. I loved how much I looked like my father and that you couldn’t tell my gender unless my mom put in those God forsaken barrettes. I was a huge tomboy well at least that’s what my family chalked it up to, so my mom didn’t mind me liking the outdoors and video games or fishing. What she didn’t understand was my anger and crying fits when she forced me to wear dresses with stockings or flat-ironed my hair to make it look more feminine. We fought from time to time because all I wanted to wear was my jean skirts that covered most of me or my basketball shorts and a raggedy T-shirt.
I'm Pansexual myself and I want to talk about the misconceptions.
I take a deep breath in, and I can feel the sweet smoke go to the back of my throat. I hold on to it like I'm in a desert, and it's quenching my thirst. I exhale. I can breathe, my eyes feel heavy, and suddenly everything melts around me. I can hear background noise like the teacher in Charlie Brown….Womp womp womp womp. I head to my stereo, and give myself permission to turn on King Princess. I listen with a keen ear. I hear her words as they pierce my soul, “I hate it when dudes try to chase me, but I love it when you try to save me, cause I’m just a lady... I’m just a lady.” It repeats to the pulse of my heart beat. I can feel the base pounding from my feet, and suddenly my body starts to move, and I’m dancing like i'm at Woodstock in 1965. I don't know who I am exactly, but in this moment alone, I feel my queerness erupt in me in a way that can only be described as self expression and love. When I close my eyes, I see myself giving myself a hug. As I give this hug to this version of myself, I am a cactus. Like I’m trying to embrace myself in a way that really can't be embraced.
Despite the way society can make you feel sometimes, being in a relationship isn’t a magic key to happiness for everyone. Yes, sharing your life with someone special definitely has its benefits, but there’s a lot to love about the single life as well, especially for members of the LGBTQ community. In fact, more people than ever are beginning to realize this and embrace single-hood for the awesome thing that it is. The following are just a few of the best reasons why you should too.
“Are you sure you’re gay?” “Maybe you just haven’t found the right man yet?” “You’re still young, things might change!” These are all the ignorant comments you’ll hear when you’re fresh out of the closet. I say “ignorant,” because even though most of these individuals mean well, it comes off as extremely invalidating and unsupportive. We all know what a stereotypical lesbian should look like: Short hair, boy's clothes, and an overall masculine appearance. What happens when you don't fit that mold? In fact, you appear to be the exact opposite. That's where lesbians such as I fall into this awkward grey area on the spectrum, which nobody really talks about. As some gays like to call it, "fem invisibility." We're invisibly gay to the straight community, along with the gay community as well. Sometimes I like to joke with friends and say that I'm going to get "homo" tattooed on my forehead. It would make for one hell of a drunk tattoo. The Hangover ain't got nothin on me!
Whether you’re looking for Mr. Right, or really only interested in Mr. Right Now, for the moment, it goes without saying that dating as a gay, bi, or queer man can be pretty frustrating. Not only do gay men have to deal with all the same hurdles straight people do, but they’re often thrown a few extra curve balls for good measure.
I was 17 years old when I came out as aromantic. I came across the term on Tumblr, of course, and it was a huge eye-opener for me. If you do not know what aromantic is, it is a romantic orientation (not to be confused with sexual orientation) which means that I do not experience romantic attraction to people. I still love and have connections to people, but it is not the romantic one people experience with their significant other.