Words by: Deana 

There was no singular light-bulb moment that came with accepting I was Queer.

I always kind of knew that I was, and knowing weirdly felt just as thrilling as it did daunting. As a kid, I had fixated on several celebrities, none of which were men. My walls were plastered with posters of Miley Cyrus and Lady Gaga, and later, my ‘guilty’ pleasure was watching coming out videos by lesbian YouTubers. Countless friendships blurred the lines between what was platonic and romantic, and any attempt at forming a relationship with a man felt unnatural.

Along with all the doubting and shame-fuelled anxiety, I began to digest the fact that I would have to come out sooner rather than later. At the time, ‘Tumblr’ was an online space where I could digitally connect with Queer users and communities. One night, I got a message from a New Zealander girl who was also closeted and experiencing similar emotions. One thing led to the other, and slowly an online relation- ship started to form.

Moongirl1998 is typing…

Moongirl1998: Can we call over Facebook? I want to hear your voice.

Phone-calls escalated into video-calls, and after a few months things began to move even more quickly.

Moongirl1998: I just booked my flight from New Zealand to Sydney. I can’t wait to finally meet you.

When it comes to sapphic stereotypes, the U-Haul trope dominates. The trope suggests that our first dates last three to four business days, and after that we’re usually ready to seal the deal by moving in together. While we weren’t at the age where we could do that, a quick trip across the Tasman Sea had to do for a little rendezvous. The issue here was that I had no idea how to escape my family for six whole days and nights. Low and behold, after a few selfishly calculated conversations, my parents believed I was signing up for a Christian study camp during school holidays. I used the one studious friend I had as my accomplice, and despite not being religious or very well-behaved at school, I was sure my plan would succeed.

Like most good stories, it involves a series of nail-biting events. So, fast-forward to the morning I was leaving for “study camp”. Everything was going to plan until my mum called the number on the camp website to check I was enrolled. “Of course, she did,” I thought. This was unequivocally unlike me. My mother’s intuition never failed her, and she knew I was up to something.

After hours of defending my story, nothing was adding up. So, I lied and said I was actually planning to go to a friend’s holiday house, instead of telling the truth. I ended up grounded. Around 12am that same night, my heart felt like it was situated in my throat as I quickly reached for the closest notepad and a pen. I couldn’t not see the girl I had been speaking to for months, and she hadn’t just flown to another country for no reason. For something I had so anxiously deliberated on for years, I splattered the words onto paper before thinking of any of the consequences. I had to be quick though, because my best friend was about to show up at my house and drive me to an apartment complex in the city.

“I’m leaving home for a few days to be with my girlfriend from New Zealand”. I placed the letter on my bed and ran straight outside with a very poorly packed travel bag. This impulsive moment, which now feels like a fever-dream, forced me to brazenly act fast in the name of love (or what felt like love, at least).

After ditching my phone and living out my very chaotic Queer fantasy, I returned back home and was expecting the worst outcome. My inkling had been wrong, though. Dad needed no words to express his acceptance, and instead, greeted me with a warm, long hug. After approaching my mother, who had been curled up on the couch worried, her face signalled nothing but a sense of pure relief. There was a lot to discuss, and fill them both in on, but in that moment, they were just thankful I was back home safe.

No two coming out stories are the same, and I feel for every Queer person whose family may not be as accepting as mine. Truthfully though, the coming out saga never seems to end. Whether it’s new co-workers or new friends, I’m constantly sharing this part of my identity with others. Each time more proudly, too.

My advice for anyone struggling to take the leap would be to start by telling your friends and those outside your family, if it’s safe to do so. Access any LGBTIQA+ resources and media that you can, and attend any local events in your community. If you don’t have the support of your family, I assure you that there’s a big and beautiful LGBTIQA+ community waiting to love you when you’re ready.