Introspective Series: LGBQT+ community and what it means to me
Part 1: Gen X Bisexual navigating her own path through the years and finding a community within the LGBQT+ community
Notes Prior to reading:
I have been overthinking writing this series for over three months because I wanted to bring my personal experiences and approach it from an academic perspective. If I don't start writing something soon, I will never begin. If you don't know me, let me introduce myself.
My name is Nikki. I suffer from a Chronic Illness, which makes it challenging to juggle more than one thing at a time. I am a hella broken and super complicated woman who does a music podcast as a hobby because, over a decade ago, I took issue with mainstream radio's neglect of indie bands and diversity in music genres.
I'm not in this for fame or riches. I am just a punk rock girl with a DIY ethos who wants to share perspectives and musings that will be misplaced into an algorithm abyss. So if this is just for me and two people... I am good with that.
Growing up in the '80s meant that you were not part of the helicopter parenting style; if you had siblings, you were kicked out of the house and told you couldn't come back until dinner. What you did during that time to entertain yourself was up to you.
I don't think I was a typical '80s girl, as I hated wearing dresses; I had a boy's haircut because I didn't care to brush my hair, and I played A LOT of sports and loved to play in the mud, snow, creeks, etc. I have an older brother, and I remember one time when we were playing baseball; the ball hit me right in the face, and while tears streamed down my face, I continued like it was nothing.
From reading all that, I am sure you, the reader, have already labelled me as a "Tom Boy" because back then, that's how we defined females who did activities typically associated with being attributed to being male. We have come a long way in understanding that appearance, emotions, and personality traits do not equal gender, but that is a topic for another time.
I am unsure if it was in grade five or six when we all became obsessed with a TV celebrity. Most of my female classmates had a crush on Kirk Cameron of the sitcom Growing Pains; meanwhile, my crush was Nancy McKeon (Jo) of the sitcom Facts of Life. I was younger than 11 at that time. My first kiss with a girl was when I was 11; we hung out a lot; she was sporty and didn't fit the stereotypical girl, and when I was 12, I had my first boyfriend (he was an awful kisser) I never told anyone; it was hard enough to exist in a small town with a horrible family.
When I was 15 years old, I was often snuck into gay dance clubs by my older friends, who were trying to keep me off the streets for fear of being trafficked. I had two close calls with that. Just a reminder: if a man hands you a blank card with a phone number for you to call for a modelling audition, take the card, walk away, and throw it out as soon as you can.
Gay nightclubs are still my favourite places to be, as no man is trying to pick you up; you can dance and feel zero sense of harassment.
At the age of 16, I already had struggled with boys, giving me the impression that they cared for me when all they wanted to do was to have sex with me. (An aside, we need to tell teenagers not to manipulate the people they date because they are horny and want to have sex).
I was pretending to date a guy in my high school to keep his secret that he was gay; we went to a party and watched "Paris is Burning" with a few friends and my summer girlfriend. My girlfriend's parents didn't know she was a lesbian, nor that I was bisexual. After two months, we had to break up because she was moving to another city to attend university. She broke my heart as I fell for her.
I had a hard time fitting into social circles because I didn't conform to one subculture, as well as in the early '90s, being bisexual was deemed trendy and therefore when someone came out as bisexual, they were made fun of and told to "pick a team and stick to it."
For most of my early 20s, when I wasn't in a long-term relationship, I casually dated men and women. I had many friends in the LGBQT+ community who identified as gay or lesbian, and being bisexual back then was still not welcomed by many in the community. However, heterosexual men LOOVED the idea of dating a bisexual woman because they watched too much porn. I only told people that I was bisexual if I was in a long-term relationship, as I didn't want to be a man's kink fantasy.
In my early 20s, I worked at a call center where I worked nights; I met an androgynous dyke (androgynous was the definition we used back in the day when a person didn't look all boy or all girl. Now we use the term non-binary). Tera was hilarious; she liked the same music as I did. I was dating someone else then, but we often hung out. A few months into our friendship, Tera told me that she was a Transwoman. It was my first time meeting someone who identified as a transwoman but who also liked women.
Tera was incredibly patient with my ignorance and all the questions I asked her about her gender identity, her sexual preference, and her journey to becoming a woman, which included hormones and therapy. She was going to go overseas to get surgery in the summer, and we lost touch as we didn't have social media as we do now to keep in touch with people.
Tera might have been the first trans person I was friends with. After that, I realized I had a few friends in the LGBQT+ community in the 1990s who were struggling to fit in because they were coming out either as trans women or trans men.
One of my friends was ostracized by his friends in the LGBQT+ because he went from having a female name to asking to be acknowledged by his chosen male name. My other friend never did the hormones or surgeries, but that doesn't change the fact that he felt he didn't identify with society's social construct of how gender is determined. (Another aside, we all know that society's social construct of how gender is determined has changed over time, so I don't need to give a history lesson of the last 400+ years, right?)
I have been with the same person for over 20 years; some bisexual people have open relationships, and many do not. I fit into the latter category, so many people don't consider me bisexual as I am in a long-term relationship with a heterosexual man. I rarely tell people about my sexuality due to people's lack of exposure to the LGBQT+ community and how diverse it is.
I struggled with not sharing parts of me for the past 30 years of my life, so I can only imagine how difficult it must be for a Trans woman or Trans man to be open with their friends, family, colleagues, and even just in the LGBQT+ community.
I hope the takeaways from this first post in this series is that you understand the LGBQT+ community is diverse and whatever gayness you identify with doesn’t mean negate someone else’s identity in the community.
People 30 years ago were still struggling to come out of the closet as teenagers, as adults and even in their LGBQT+ community.
Even if you , yourself are a LGBQT+ person or an ally do not make the assumption that your family member, friend or colleague feels you are a safe person to confide in. We know who is safe to confide and who is not, always.
This post is dedicated to my long lost friend Tera. I am ever so grateful for you existing and feeling safe to be your true self.
The next write up in this series is my journey as a parent of an LGBQT+ teen and I hope that this will inspire others to share their stories. Even if it’s sending me their story to share with others.