WRITER’S NOTE: This piece is written in commemoration of today, Lesbian Visibility Day.
“No, I have not been hurt by a guy. I am not confused. It’s not just a phase. And I don’t hate men.
“I simply want to marry a girl.”
I was in a queer WhatsApp group and one of topics of that day was: “Why are you queer?”
When I saw this question, I was kinda offended because it was a queer group and we should know better. This isn’t the kind of question a heterosexual person would interrogate himself or herself with. The question was annoying and some of the answers were even worse; one girl said she was queer because her ex-girlfriend “turned” her. I wanted to phone-slap her, like: Honey, No! No one turned you! She just made you realize pussy is better.
However, the question did make me think and reflect on how and when I knew I liked girls. Was it really a choice for me? Did someone turn me? Was there a step I took way back when, which when retraced would see me end up favouring dick to pussy?
I remember the first time I ever did something with a girl. I was about 7 and she was younger. We dry-humped under the sheets and then scrambled to conceal our indiscretion when we heard someone coming around. Then, I didn’t know what it was we’d done; I just knew I was doing “bad thing”.
The second time was during a hide-and-seek game. I was around 10 and the other girl was younger as well. We were hiding – ironically – in “the closet”, which was where we made out. I still didn’t know what this thing we were doing was, but on some deeper level, I knew it wasn’t “normal” and that it was a bad thing that I was being this way with girls.
I remember there was another girl too. We were playing and some stuff happened. I remember my younger sister noticed our freakiness and prayed about it the next day during our morning devotion. I knelt there, flooded with mortification as my younger sister tabled my “sin” before God and asked for Him to wash them away with the blood of Jesus. Thereafter, my mum warned me sternly to stay away from that girl.
Then the day came in JSS1, during morning mass in my school, when the principal talked about homosexuality. As I listened to him talk, my heart was for whatever reason beating as fast as if I’d done a quick run around the school block. I felt incredibly self-conscious, like the word “homosexuality” was etched on my forehead, bold and visible for everyone to see and know that it was me the principal was talking about. I was really scared that morning. I felt like I was the worst person on earth and even though nothing incriminating had happened, even though the principal was simply giving a lecture intended to instruct the entire student body, I took it upon myself to swear that I’d never do anything like this again.
Then, fast-forward to university days, and the era of the internet and, of course, 2go. And I met my first girlfriend. At first, I wasn’t sure of what was happening to me as we got acquainted. I felt the familiar stirrings of hunger, that gentle fire that burned inside me when I was 7 and then 10. I panicked. I’d sworn this would never happen again. I fought the feelings. I was 20 and she was 16. (By now, you would know I have a thing for younger girls.) But even though I could forbid myself from feeling anything for her, I couldn’t fight her as well. She came on strong to me. Even though she was younger, she called me all the time. She asked me out too. I wasn’t sure what I wanted – I mean, I was excited but I didn’t know if I wanted to respond to my feelings. Finally I gave in and we dated for about a year. That, by the way, is my longest relationship till date.
The years passed, and three other relationships after my first, and I was dating this very amazing girl. And that was when it hit me. I was really a lesbian. I am really a lesbian. I am from a very religious background and my family prays morning and night every day. I was still living with my parents at this time, and my upbringing was such that every little aberration from you earned you the chastisement of a priest to a sinner. And this weighed heavily on my soul, battling this realization I’d just made about my sexuality. One day, I had a long reflective moment, during which I came to the decision that I was a big sinner. So I called my girlfriend and broke up with her, told her I wanted to stop doing girls. I knew it was going to be hard, but I decided to try.
I believe I lasted about two weeks or so. It was really hard not flirting with girls online, not fantasizing about beautiful women, not admiring the hot girls that walked past me on the streets. It was a torturous two weeks.
But the two weeks served a purpose. That period made me realize that being with women, being lesbian was really just who I am. I wasn’t turned by someone or asked to choose or stumble on it from experimenting. I loved girls and no matter how hard I tried to fight it, nothing was going to change that.
That was my identity, I came to know this. That is who I am.
Written by Net