‘Independent, Liberated, and Happy for the First Time in Years’: Coming Out as a Lesbian

By Ericah Dongu

The first time that I was introduced to the LGBTQ+ community, I was in middle school. I knew what being gay was, and I thought the word was synonymous with the acronym. Then one day, I was playing an online game where I would talk to this girl ‘Lillybug’, and she told me that she was bisexual. Confused, I googled the word. 

After reading up on what bisexuality is, I felt compelled to ask her more about it. But me being the very closeted 12-year-old that I was, I felt a weird amount of guilt talking about it. I have been spoon-fed bible verses since I was six, and I felt as if God was peering down on me specifically because of what I had googled. 

I began to question the nature of my friendship with her. I grew jealous that she had other friends; I became obsessive. She ended up ghosting me, and I stopped playing the game altogether. Sometimes, I find myself silently thanking her for helping pave the way for me to discover myself, even if it was six years ago, and even if all I knew of her was what I saw on a computer screen. 

Being a 12-year-old in 2016 was a weird, fascinating time. The internet was at its prime. There was a buzz from the upcoming election heard amongst the school hallways. Talk of who’s dating who became popular once the infamous Middle School Dances were introduced. At the time, I really really wanted a boyfriend. And the boyfriend that I chose (selfishly so) was my best friend’s crush. 

This certain best friend was someone I spent a lot of time with. People often compared me to her because we were always seen together. I was the token ‘plus-size’ girl, even though I was pretty skinny during those years. I remember lying in bed at night, wishing that I was her. She was so pretty and kind. She was funny and smart. She was perfect. I loved everything about her. Wait...

The funny thing is, I didn’t accept my feelings for her until she was already out of my life. I dated her crush, got my heart broken, and that was it. The cycle continued throughout the first years of high school, too – not me dating my best friend’s crushes, but me dating guys I’m not sure I ever even liked. This constant confusion and doubt about my feelings for women plagued most of my relationships. I’ve been with a lot of crappy guys, but I’ve also been crappy in numerous situations as well. 

I came out as pansexual. It felt freeing. I no longer was kept inside this imaginary cage; I was allowed to be with and feel attracted to whoever I wanted. But I kept dating guys. I had a lot of compulsory heterosexuality built up from the years of being told that anything else is wrong, and religion still had a grip on me, though I was trying to escape it. I knew that my family would be disappointed if they knew how I now identified, and I wanted to fight off the eventual confrontation for as long as I could.

My first serious relationship was when I was in sophomore year. He was a senior. We clicked instantly. We were constantly laughing when we were with each other. I took him to all my family events, and he took me to his. I was happy. Genuinely happy in a relationship for the first time. But by our three-month anniversary (yes, those were important in high school), the doubt had started to seep in. I had googled do I actually love my boyfriend at least five times a day during this time. It was awful. I had so much anxiety surrounding the situation that I just wanted to break up, then and there. But we didn’t break up. Not until two years later. 

When we reached our six-month anniversary, we were fairly comfortable with each other. I still had doubts, but I was able to push them away for a while. But whenever we’d get physical, I’d feel sick to my stomach, or I’d make up some excuse not to continue whatever it was that we were doing. Whenever he touched me, I felt insecure and unhappy. I know that refusing to touch him just about every time he asked made him insecure, too. I started to grow closer with my friends. When we had started dating, my friends and I had drifted initially. Now, I was going over to their houses more frequently.

I’ve always been a hugger. A cuddler, even. I hugged and cuddled my friends all the time. To me, that was just what friends did. But I couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that I’d have when I was physical with them. My boyfriend kept popping up into my head, and I couldn’t shake the thought that I was doing something wrong. 

It was obvious that the nature of our affection wasn’t threatening to my romantic relationship, but I felt troubled and confused whenever I’d come home from my friend’s house. And scrolling through my feed – which was filled with cosplayers and female influencers – didn’t help. I found my eyes trailing from their smiling faces down to their breasts. When I realised what I was doing, I’d instantly close the app and distract myself with something else. 

The doubts, the guilt, and the confusion were constant for two whole years. I spent a lot of time in my bed, crying. Constantly battling my thoughts was exhausting. My boyfriend at the time was understanding, but I could tell that he was growing more and more concerned. Sexually, I felt nothing. I felt uncomfortable and repulsed, even after two years. But I always fantasised about women. It became overbearing, to the point that I stopped letting things happen between me and my partner. And, in all honesty, physical affection is what fueled his attraction towards me. 

After months of going back and forth, I finally accepted that I wasn’t going to love him the way that he wanted me to and broke things off. I was in a lot of pain during this time. But I also felt independent, liberated, and happy for the first time in years. I was excited to finally be myself; almost immediately, I came out. I told my friends that I was a lesbian. Ever since that day, I have felt more and more alive. I have hope for the future. I could genuinely see myself getting married one day. This was something that turned from a passing thought to a goal, and just by that, I knew that I had finally found myself. 

If you are questioning your sexuality, I want you to ask yourself: if you had to spend the rest of your life with your same-sex best friend or an attractive member of the opposite sex, who would you choose? And when you fantasise, is it about the same or the opposite sex? Sex isn’t everything, of course, but it is a huge factor in how I found myself. Remember, there is no time limit on figuring yourself out. You have your entire life. Don’t rush the process – just follow your feelings and go with it.