Lesbian insecurities

I’ve had the advantage of growing up in Bristol, a generally accepting city in regards to the LGBT+ community, to a family who have been supportive of my identity. While I recognise that this is an incredibly privileged position to be in, it hasn’t prevented a feeling of ‘otherness’ and uncomfortability when coming to terms with my sexuality, a fairly common experience among the LGBT community.

Generally, growing up in Bristol can be seen as a privilege in terms of queer acceptance (a sweeping generalisation) in comparison to other cities. While they are all low-level occurrences in comparison to other people's experiences, my experience as a girl who dates girls hasn't gone without it's moments. Just to give a few examples, when with a girlfriend, I've stares from straight men who look as if they've only just come across the lesbian side of Pornhub, double takes from passersby, and yells from men who think it's funny. I acknowledge complete acceptance isn't necessarily a prospect a the moment, however, occurrences like this

I originally came out as bisexual, later coming to the conclusion that the label ‘lesbian’ better aligns with how I feel. Coming out as bisexual, in some way felt safer, feeling that it would be more acceptable or would sit more comfortably with other people. While it not only conflicted with how I actually felt, it didn’t necessarily fit comfortably with other people. I’d been told by some that, before dating a girl, they doubted or questioned whether this would actually happen. As a result, despite my privileged experience of being part of the LGBT community, it was not met without a resistance to accepting myself. I felt that I didn’t present myself as ‘gay enough’ or ‘butch enough’ for others to believe me until my love life proved otherwise.

As I have come out to more people as lesbian and it is more or less 'common knowledge' among a large group of the people in my life, my anxieties surrounding my sexuality remain with my appearance. I was originally insecure that I didn't appear 'gay enough' for people to accept me as I am. Now that it is acknowledged by the people in my life that I'm gay, instead of bisexual, I often worry that I appear 'too much', almost ashamed to associate myself with a typically lesbian fashion/identifiers; never ashamed of the girls I've been with but rather just myself and how I individually presented my sexuality in isolation without the 'proof' of a relationship. I've had comments along the lines of that I look like a lesbian and while I don't believe it was said with harmful intent, it originally filled me with panic, assuming my appearance made me an easy to single out or target with homophobia. It immediately filled me with an urge to completely change my style and general appearance. When re-evaluating these comments, I believe that the people saying them did not intend for it to really mean anything, but it brought to my attention just how ingrained certain images of 'gayness' was in society, reiterating just how underrepresented different variants of the community are. I realised that this wasn't my problem to solve; it wasn't me that needed to change and conforming to someone's stereotype of a lesbian wasn't something to be ashamed of. If I listed every time I've felt insecure about something someone had said to me about my sexuality, we'd all be here a while. Some of these things have partly been down to my own self perception and overanalyzing small comments. But they have all made me realize that someone is always going to have an issue with it. I am not going to go without uncomfortable questions, other people's doubts, opinions and deviating from heterosexuality being considered a trivial topic. Although I knew this to begin with, it isn't something that scares me as much. Neither does changing my label. If identifying as lesbian is something I feel differently about in the future, it is not something I feel so uncomfortable about changing.

Another aspect that I have found difficult to acknowledge is the prospect of having children. While this is a topic thought about much later in life, when you're not heterosexual, for some, questioning your sexuality forces you to think about how it'll affect you throughout your life. I found this difficult to come to terms with, as I knew full well that the chances of me being able to have biological children were very slim, unless I am able to afford IVF treatment or sperm donors. From my personal experience, the presentation of adoptive parents appears to be representative of straight couples that aren’t able to conceive biological children, for whatever reason. While this is an important representation that is most likely not seen enough in the media in itself, their inability to afford IVF treatment or naturally conceive children, I feel, is shown as a fault, with adoption as a last resort. Not many characters just choose to do so from the media that I have experienced. The combination of deviating from the heterosexual norm and the somewhat perceived ‘unconventional’ form of motherhood had created an uncomfortable sense of self doubt, hoping I wasn't committing myself to a "phase". I feel that the emphasis on ‘needing’ to have biological children can be harmful to both same sex couples and heterosexual couples that can’t have or choose not to have them, while simultaneously ignoring the positive impacts adoption can have on the adopted child(ren).

Eve Fitztaylor