on Orlando shooting.
01:33
***
You see me
here blogging about disability issues, and I susppose you have some image of me
already, based on what I write. Whatever it’s good, or bad, I don’t really
mind. I’m happy you’re here, I’m happy to make a difference.
And as you
probably already know about me from my blogging I am Very Gay. I identify as a
genderfluid woman, in a spectrum between female and agender. And I identify as
a lesbian. I am an asexual lesbian, and I am proud to wear a label. I rock
pinky-red flag, I love wlw aesthetics posts, I am all here for the rising
movement of Sapphic girls.
And, being
a queer woman, today at 4am I read about Orlando.
And I am
scared.
I live in
Poland, far, far away from where it happened. But situation here doesn’t make
me feel any safer. It could happen here on a pride on Sunday. It could, and I
am thankful to all the gods it didn’t.
But it made me think about the past, and
I want to tell you a story.
At age 16 I
was in all-girls boarding school in another city, and I first time met an outed
lesbian. I fell in love with the label, I finally felt I know who I am, I have
a place in the world. I was deep, deep in the closet, but I was me. My friend dated girls, and I was
proud of her. Proud of me.
I got a
crush on a girl from my home town. We got together. Long story short, she was
very abusive.
She would hit me in places no one would see bruises and force me
to have sex with her. She would tell me no one will ever love me cause I’m a
lesbian, that I am dirty, that it’s unnatural and that she’s the only person
who’ll ever love me. That I’ll go to hell. She would force me to walk
kilometers to prove me my disability is not real. She wouldn’t let me sit down
when we met. It’s possible some of my joint damage is caused by her.
And she
would tell me she’ll kill herself and kill my family if I don’t sleep with her.
I didn’t
know then that girl can rape another girl, that forcing someone to sex in
relationship is rape too.
She would
shame me for who I am, and she make me feel ashamed of myself. She made me hate
myself and hate the label lesbian. Because it was wrong. And because she was a lesbian too and I didn’t want anything
connected to her to stay with me.
When I
broke off, with severe trauma and PTSD, all I felt was fear. I was out to my
mum and sister, but to no one else. I hated being gay. I hated the community. I
hated everything. I tried to force myself to like men. As you can imagine, it didn’t
quite worked.
It took me over
3 years to heal. It took me over 3 years to love myself again. I don’t
self-harm anymore, I’ve beaten eating disorder. I’m seeing a therapist every
week. And, really,
I’m okay. I wasn’t afraid.
Till today.
First time
in three years, I felt fear that I felt with her. Fear of being a lesbian. Fear
of loving women. Fear of being out.
And I DO
NOT WANT TO FEEL THIS WAY.
All my love
is with survivors and their families, with families and friends of those who
didn’t survive. I pray for them, I send all good energy their way. The dead are
safe and in better place, but we, who remain, have to deal with the loss.
Families and friends with loss of loved ones. We, the queer community, with
loss of being safe in our safe spaces.
I mourn for
LGBTQIA+ youth, who will now be afraid to go to bars, to go to pride. Who will
meet significant barriers in meeting ones alike them, to get into
relationships, to find love.
I mourn for
those of us who are now afraid to come out, or, like me, afraid to be out.
I mourn for
those in bigoted families, who will have to listen or even agree to bullshit
spawn by their relatives, just to be safe.
I am with
all of you, sending energy and prayers your way.
My best
friend once told me my posts here are empowering. I’m glad. But today’s post is
not, I suppose. It’s my way to say how sorry I am this shit in the world ever
happens. How I love all of you in our community. How we need to stand together.
But it’s also
my way to say: cry. Mourn. Be sad. Don’t let them tell you to get over it. Don’t
let them tell you “not to fight hate with more hate.” No. Be angry. Hate. Be
furious.
Cause we
have a right to cry, right to be mad, right to be furious. We will not be
silenced.
To all my
folks in queer community, disabled and abled alike, I stand with you, and I
will not be silent.
And I will
cry.
And I will
scream till the world hears me.
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