May We Be Little Deposits of Rainbows Wherever We Go
A personal story about the importance of Lesbian Visibility Week
The older I get, the more I appreciate the meaning of Lesbian Visibility Week. For a lot of us, our coming-out story is a long one. It’s a journey, and I don’t use that word lightly.
For me, it took ten years to come out and fully embrace that I was gay. I tiptoed into pride quietly, visiting my first gay bar by myself because I didn’t know anyone else who was gay. Later, I’d go to Pride festivals with friends I was out to, but I never told my family where I was going.
When I lived with my then-girlfriend, I passed it off that we were just “roommates” because that’s what we did back then in the late ‘90’s/early 2000’s.
That was my life: in the closet.
Eventually, I came out.
Coming out wasn’t a moment, but more like a series of moments: coming out to my parents, then my sister, and then to many other people along the way throughout the years, because the truth is, you never really stop coming out. That’s the part of it that no one tells you - you have a “big” coming out moment in life when you come out to the people who are most important to you, but you’ll come out over and over - to new co-workers, to neighbors, to people you sit next to on a plane as you engage in casual conversation that eventually leads to the inevitable “are you married? Do you have kids?”... it never ends, but it does get easier.
But before that - before the years of living in the closet and coming out to myself - there was a kid who felt shame for who she was. That fear kept me in the closet for a long time. Honestly, living a life where no one really knew about me was fine. It was safe. It took a while to take the risk of coming out and losing the people I loved the most.
My family loved me, but would they still love me once they knew I was gay?
I eventually came to my mom when she asked if my live-in roommate was actually more than that. I don’t know if I was just ready to tell the truth or what, but I met her with it - yes, she was my girlfriend.
In many ways, the rest is history. Now, being gay is something that I want people to know. It’s not something I feel shame for. It’s something I’m proud of.
But it wasn’t until a recent podcasting event that I understood the impact of that pride and visibility.
As all good stories go, I was in line for food... (I mean, am I wrong? I don’t think so). Anyway, suddenly, a young Latina woman in front of me in line turned around and introduced herself. Immediately, I recognized the difference in our age because I am an ambivert Gen-Xer, and I would never randomly introduce myself to the person behind me, but that’s another story.
As we started chatting, we talked about podcasting, and I told her about my podcast, The Gay Podcast for Everyone. She responded, “Oh, cool. I’m queer, too.”
Queer. It was another sign of our age difference because I don’t use that word, but I get it... the kids these days have reclaimed it (and I’m good with that, but that is also another story).
Before I knew it, I was in a deep, thought-provoking conversation with said Queer Millennial. She was poised, articulate, and intelligent, and I could hear my inner voice sounding like a Progressive commercial as I was thinking, “kids these days are so impressive.”
In the middle of the conversation, Queer Millennial and I started talking about Lesbian Visibility. She told me a story about an older woman she knew. This woman was in her 70s and was a caregiver for her 90-year-old mother. Like us, the woman is a Latina lesbian. She has been in a long-term relationship with her partner for years, but they aren’t out to anyone - especially the 90-year-old mother. They are “roommates,” as we all were back in the day. Unfortunately for them, the opportunity to be open about their relationship was a privilege they didn’t have. Whenever the 90-year-old mother visits, the woman hides personal photos of her life with her partner.
Queer Millennial shared that, for this woman, it wasn’t worth coming out to her mom at such an elderly age. Ensuring her mother’s peace in the last years of her life was paramount to everything - even to her own ability to live freely and openly. I understood that. That’s how we grew up. That’s what “good daughters” do- especially “good” Latina daughters. We keep the peace.
Queer Millennial and I chatted about how that generation - the lesbian Baby Boomer Generation - paved the way, yet sometimes still pays the price.
Then Queer Millennial said something that caught me off guard, but also pleasantly surprised me. She said, I wanna thank you for paving the way for my generation. Your generation has been an example to me that I can be married, have a house, and a family. Your generation was the friend my parents had - the one who knew they were gay and kept their secret safe. They saw what your generation went through, and that has made all the difference for mine. Thank you.
No one had ever said those words to me before. I had always been so thankful for my lesbian elders that it never occurred to me that now, I was a lesbian elder to the Millennials and Gen Z.
Without children of my own, I often forget that there are so many other ways we impact the younger generations around us - the kids in the neighborhood who see two women living together, working on the yard, building a life. My younger family members who will hopefully be good LGBTQ+ allies by proxy.
During Lesbian Visibility Week, I’m reminded that living a life out loud and proud makes an impact in ways we may never know. Thankfully, Queer Millennial reminded me that our generation’s visibility and pride are the unknown seeds we plant for the next one.
Omg, I love this!!! As the millennial lesbian, I can honestly say I NEVER turn around to talk to someone. 🫣 but for whatever reason our paths were meant to be crossed. Our conversation has left a great impact on me too. Keep doing the work you are doing because it really makes a difference 🌈