Chill

“Fantasizing about boys felt like a healing paper cut: uncomfortable, but manageable. While imagining a future with a man I mistook the relief of companionship for romance, and the anxiety for chemistry. When I pictured him saying ‘you’re mine’, it felt like being trapped, too possessive, I did not want my heart stolen but at least being kept in a cage would keep me safe. Dreaming about kissing boys seemed acquiescent, as long as my eyes were glued shut the entire time. This was love, right? When I saw her for the first time I was mesmerized and I have never wanted to give up custody of my own heart more; She felt like home, like freedom, and all the discomfort I had assumed was natural melted, just like I did whenever she touched me. Her laughter reminded me why the earth revolved around the sun and when we kissed it felt like I had found the world’s greatest treasure without even searching for it. When I imagine a lifetime with her it doesn’t feel cumbersome anymore and I realize it was meant to feel this way all along.”

“Today I called myself a lesbian out loud for the first time in my life I’ve done everything possible to avoid describing myself with that word. Used every shortcut imaginable Stuck my head in the ground like a flamingo and changed the subject like a politician every time someone asked I’ve said I like girls. Worn it proudly across my chest like a badge of honor, but in an ambiguous way because I don’t want you to say I’m shoving it in your face I’ve called myself sapphic, prioritized women, talked about my crushes on girls – but never in detail because I’ve been so afraid to come off as a wolf starving for the poor innocent herd of lambs at the local farm I’ve had sex with girls, but often with boys present to make it socially acceptable to touch and taste and get lost in the wonderland that is another woman I’ve written poetry describing pure, virtuous, chaste and sexless love between two women, but never about the desire to touch, the eye that wanders for a little too long to be accidental, the feeling of just right as her hands pull on my hair I’ve called myself a lesbian on screen. Written that word down so many times that I barely think about it any more. I’m unapologetic until I’m not Until I stutter out another excuse as to why I don’t want to be with the boy with the kind eyes and the shy smile who cannot take a god damn hint Until I’m the only girl in the room and I’m aware that the only lesbians the majority of these men have seen are in porn and that “I’m a lesbian” doesn’t mean “stay away” to them, it means “try harder” Until my grandfather participates in a conversation with someone else at a family dinner about how he’s tired of having The Gays shoved in his face by the media, even though he’s met my ex girlfriend Until I hear yet another tasteless and homophobic joke at the dinner table from yet another person that I have to cross out from my very short list of people I know I can trust Until a female friend of mine wraps her arms around me in a tight hug and I’m not out to her and I can’t help but feel guilty about how good I think she smells And am I really unapologetic if I’m only unapologetic when it feels safe to be? So when I described myself as a lesbian today, I stuttered through it even though I wanted to sound casual and calm and act like it was no big deal. Like every single person I’ve heard use it as an insult and spit it out like it’s stale food weren’t running through my head at that very moment Like I am unashamed of every single girl who’s made my heart pick of speed, of every time I’ve caught myself staring at one of them for a little too long and wondered what her lips taste like Like it might be one day”