I'm From Driftwood

by Nikki Olsen

I once read that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is when SHE brushes up against me and puts her arms around me.

And there are no words for that.

When I was approximately 14 years of age my mother and step-father took me to my favorite Mexican restaurant. I was in the middle of a bite of deliciousness when my Mom softly whispers, “We believe you are having homosexual tendencies.”

I spit out my food and stared at the two of them. She may as well have been on stage with a microphone and holding a huge spotlight on me. It felt like the entire restaurant came to a halt and all eyes were on me. In my mind you could have heard a pin drop in that establishment. “We know you have been kissing girls,” is what I heard, “and you are going to hell.”

“Umm…well…uh, I think you are wrong! NO” is what I believe I said while viciously shaking my head back and forth.

The 14 years of knowledge I had was far vaster than these two whose combined age was around 88. The reason they took me to the restaurant was because I would run like hell from anything uncomfortable. Literally, out the front door and down the street not to be seen for hours was my method of operating. I suppose this is still my modus operandi but at least I am aware of it now. Simply because he was a social worker and she worked with emotionally challenged individuals, what the hell did they know? Who cares if I had a girlfriend and the majority of my friends were all gay? These two were just plain stupid. I was not going to be one of those homosexual people made fun of. I was not going to be referred as a “dyke, lesbo, lezzy, queer, carpet muncher, fruitcake” and my favorite “crack snacker.” Of course I could pull a “Vagina Monologue” here and make a list for days but you get the idea. It’s not that I wasn’t gay; I just didn’t want to be.

I fought it, lied, made myself miserable and acted out in the face of all of the love and support most people long for from family and friends. Somehow, despite the understanding and acceptance I had, I was determined it was wrong. I was a latent homosexual I guess. I suppressed and repressed on a conscious level. At the age of 24 is when I finally accepted myself after numerous relationships.

I didn’t drape myself in a rainbow flag and run through the streets screaming, “I am here, I am queer and I am here to stay.” I simply stopped lying to others and more importantly, myself.

And now, 17 years later I am completely out and it is the best feeling. I can’t begin to tell you how fortunate I am to have the love, support and acceptance that I do have now. In closing I would like people to ponder something: What if a gay person did not have sex? Would they still be gay?

The answer is yes. I can assure you one thing: If I could get the same mushy, weak in the knees, passion throughout my soul with a man I would. It has never happened. It’s the same feeling anyone gets when love enters your being, mine just happens to be with the same sex. It is not a choice. I am not going to be someone else or not love simply because hate exists out there in this world.

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by Robyn S. 

When I was small, I practiced kissing with other girls.  But everyone did, and I never thought much of it.  I kind of hated girls.  They picked on me, and I always seemed to be one step behind their styles, their jokes, and their interests.

I was in 10th grade, and I realized one day that a girl I knew was gay.  It just kind of hit me – I knew why she talked that way, why she walked that way, why she was so loud sometimes, and so quiet other times.  She was gay, and she knew it.  Wow.  Being gay was a real thing. Anybody could be gay, I could be gay.  Yup, I could be….and the next day I just was. I tried it on walking down the halls, tried on the gay hat, and it fit. Ellen’s character came out later that year, and I watched her show with interest. By the end of the school year that girl and I were both out, and it turned out we had a couple of fag friends too.  We were the gay kids, and we were a clique just like other cliques, going to parties, pretty normal stuff.  I finally told my parents a few years later, they were cool.  I kept it secret from them because I was 15 and I didn’t really want them to know anything about me.  Such is the life of the teenage girl I guess.

My wife and I were married in 2005; we got engaged in 2003 right when all the legal stuff was going down in Canada.  We were in our early 20′s, apolitical, and not really paying attention.  We got engaged because that was what people did after being together for a while. No big deal.  Our wedding was small, our parents danced all night.  It was really nice.

Now my wife is pregnant, and we are expecting our first baby any day now.  We are in our early 30′s, and it was just time to make babies – we asked a pal who happily carted his porn over to our house, and donated some sperm.  We will be mommies soon and we can’t wait.

I have been so lucky.  To be born in a big city, surrounded by support, growing up at a time when our society was growing up too.  I’ve never really experienced homophobia, and my biggest concern is whether I will be mommy or momma in the years ahead.  For folks reading this who live in smaller closed-minded places, who live in fear or shame, my heart goes out to you. For those a bit older than me, I am grateful that your struggles have made my journey so smooth, and I try my best every day to make the road even more clear for the next generation.

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by Nancy Ponte

I was only 16 when I realised that I was a lesbian, when a lot of the relationships that I had with guys failed, just because I felt that something was wrong with me.

My lesbian love story started when I was in high school. I met a strange girl in 2010 and we became friends. She also supported me through a difficult period of my life. A year after, we understood that we were in love with each other so we started dating. After a year of a beautiful relationship, one of my girlfriend’s relatives found out about our “wrong” relationship, went to my house and told all the information he knew about us to my parents, plus he added a lot of lies about me, saying that I’m a whore, that I lured my girlfriend to lesbianism and more. My parents were so upset with me because I did not tell them absolutely anything and they supported my girlfriend’s family.

As a result, it was forbidden for us to meet, or have any contact ever again, or her relatives would harm my family. That was their last threat. My girlfriend’s mother changed her school, phone number and house, just because she wanted to keep her daughter away from me. My parents did not accept me the way I was, as I never came out to them, so I lost their trust too. I was so upset that I cried almost every moment of the day. All of my friends had abandoned me as they didn’t want to be involved with me and my problems. The only person who stayed with me was our common best friend who was supporting both of us and I’m still so thankful for her!

After all this hell that we’ve passed through, I decided to start my life again without her. I started having love partners just to forget her. That was the most stupid thing that I’ve done in my life, as I started drinking and I regret about it nowadays. I did not understand that I would never forget her. My feelings for her were growing every day more and more and I could not live a minute without thinking about her.

A few months after our breakup, I went to find her when I got the chance to do so. She was shocked when she saw me and asked me the reason of my coming, as I replied to her, “I just wanted to see that you’re alright.” Then her eyes were filled with tears, but our conversation continued to be cold and strict. From that day, we started secretly talking again and I was over the moon!

Two months later, we connected our lives again and from that day we started dating again. We promised to each other to be careful not to be discovered until we finish high school and from that day we never cared about what people said about us. My parents have accepted me for who I am and realised that I am happy with this person. As for her mother, I don’t think that she’ll ever accept our relationship, which breaks my girlfriend’s heart but we have chosen this difficult path by ourselves, so we have to face the difficulties of the society we are living in. Plans for the future and the wish to move to a European country is the only hope that we can have for a better life.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Rae M.

I remember liking a girl in elementary school. It’s strange to think that even then, something in me knew.

I remember the first girl I really had a crush on. It was sixth grade, and she was my best friend, but a part of me hated her. I had no idea at the time, but now I know why.

I remember when I started middle school after moving away from my friends, there were so many people. But I saw a girl from my class, and I was drawn to her. We were friends for a long time after.

I remember that in eighth grade, she had been gone. But she came back that last day. I hugged her, and she told me later, years later, that’s when she had fallen in love with me.

I remember a party. She hugged me. She never hugged anyone. That night, I fell in love with her.

I remember being terrified. That it might be true. That my mom might find out… That she might find out.

I remember all those times my mother would ask in a terrified tone if I was gay…

I remember a day that I cut class with her, and made my parents worry. We joked, and laughed, about having sex in the back of a white car. The blush never left my cheeks.

I remember I spent all of my time with her.

I remember a day in winter, we went to the park. Everything was frozen, and we each tossed a penny on the ice, and made a wish. Then, she held my hands, and tried to keep me warm.

I remember when I finally told my friends. They pried my secret from me, and everything in me shook, and burned. I felt like I might break. But everything was fine.

I remember that even though one girl was still my friend, I made her uncomfortable.

I remember finally telling her, a year after falling, that I loved her. And I remember she told me she loved me, too.

I remember a night we were laying together, talking about us. She told me she had wished I would love her. And I remember not kissing her.

I remember when things between us finally fell apart after that…

And I remember regretting, even now, that I had never told her sooner…

-(Share your story with us!)