Words by: Fae Gehren
Art by: Tessa Cameron

I have always known I liked women, even before I was old enough to understand what it truly meant. As I’ve grown older and encountered more of the world — and the vast possibilities surrounding sexuality and queerness — I have become increasingly enamoured with women. 

Unfortunately, I have also been socially and traumatically tied to men from a young age. Too young. My whole life has been shrouded in men: what men think of me, if men want to sleep with me or date me, if men like me. So, I always figured this meant I was attracted to them; it seemed like a given. But lately, my sexuality has shifted, with women in the centre and my attraction to men tugging at me from all angles.  

My love for women is definite, unequivocal and robust. It took me a while to truly realise that, but ever since I did, I have felt myself slowly growing to be more at home with who I am – more “me” than ever before, like a shy but stubborn flower.

It’s not like I hate men; I just don’t think I love them, at least not in the way I love women. I’ve been realising that being with men doesn’t actually make me feel GOOD, most of the time I feel anxious, stressed, and even trapped. A lot of the time, I just feel used and confused.

Acknowledging all of this has prompted a big change in how I deal with myself and my sexuality, even my gender identity. Ever since I fully stepped into my love for women, my journey with my sexuality has evolved into unpeeling the layers of male-centred, compulsory heterosexual bullshit I was cornered into. It’s been about cutting my hair off, experimenting with how I dress, pushing back against the male gaze and learning how to set boundaries with men. 

For a few years now, I have been clawing my way out of the box society has put me in, and hacking through the stubborn tendrils of doubt and validation-seeking it has left behind. I think I’m now up against the final boss: cutting off my romantic and sexual connections with men. 

I don’t know if I have always been a lesbian, if underneath all those years of bisexuality was just a confused gay babe. I have no way of knowing if my attraction to men was ever real or just socially induced. The sad truth is, I was drowning in an obsession with men before I can even remember. I have been socialised, taught, and expected to love men, groomed, abused, and harassed by men since my earliest memories. Because of that, I have no way of knowing if this is a trauma thing or the “real” me. But honestly, it doesn’t matter anymore. When I envision my life without men at the centre — without sex with men or dating men — I envision happiness and power and ME. A me that I have never truly gotten to know before. I don’t know if I was born this way, but something inside me is urging me to LIVE this way. It’s like a little bubble in my chest, screaming YES.

For me, being a lesbian is liberating and exciting. That’s what matters.

I am excited to spend my life with women, nonbinary, and trans people at the centre.

I am excited to develop genuine friendships with men, not coloured by the ‘what if’ of socialised attraction and expectation. 

I am excited to defy society’s expectations and push back against the rising wave of misogyny and queerphobia as a proud, fierce and loud lesbian. 

I can’t wait to be the gayest me I can ever be.