Two Moms with a Plan had this great story about coming out. At the end, she asks “What is your coming out to yourself story?”

I had a few comings out.

When I was 13, my mom had a friend who was a fairly butch lesbian. Sharon. Fairly? Okay, dude, I wouldn’t have known Sharon was female if her name had been more androgynous. I totally crushed on Sharon. My mom had to shoo me out of the room more than once because I just wanted to sit by Sharon and listen to them talk about all the people they knew in common. My mom was in school again then and Sharon was a classmate. I don’t know now what happened, why Sharon and my mom stopped hanging out. I’ve often wondered over the years if my mom and Sharon slept together. My parents were separated then so it’s a possibility, I suppose.

In any event, that was the first time I heard the words “lesbian” or “butch”. I realized that “lesbian” would apply to me but I was pretty sure “butch” wouldn’t so I was confused. I couldn’t exactly ask my mom, you know?

I didn’t actually tell anyone until I was 19. I didn’t *do* anything about it for another year.

Back when I was in high school, I read a lot of fashion magazines. Okay, I still do, but that’s not the point.
One of them, Teen Magazine, frequently had penpal request things. I got one. It was fun, y’all. Her name was Kim and she lived in Cooperstown, NY. We became great friends and the summer after my freshman year of college, I went to Binghampton, NY (where she was then living) to visit her. She had a gay guy friend who went out with us one night. At about 1 am, drunk, high and happy, we were walking him home, Kim and her bf were holding hands, so I held Gay Guy’s hand. (For the life of me, I can’t remember his name. It seems like I should be able to remember it!) We were walking and laughing and being silly (as only drunk high people can) when he stopped, turned to look at me and said, “Aren’t you embarrassed to be seen with me?” I asked him why I would be and he said, “Because I’m gay.” I stopped walking. I started to give him the “that sucks and I’ll kick anyone’s ass who has something ignorant to say” speech but I didn’t.

Out of me burst the truth: “I am, too.”

He looked at me, fairly stunned. I was a *girl*, you know? A skirt-wearing, high-heeled, made-up, dancing with boys, dancing on the freaking bar girl. “Does Kim know?”

“GOD, no. I can’t tell her that yet.” He looked at me with that look. “You in love with her?” Yes. Yes, I was. Ironic, really, because she thought I was flirting with her boyfriend and we stopped being friends after that visit. I was totally in love with her. She still doesn’t know that, 20-some years later.

About six months after that, my favorite aunt came out. I hung out with her and all of her new lesbian friends. It was with them that I learned about femme and how it was possible that I could be a lesbian but look the way I looked. I learned that I was right at 13: I love butches.

I slept with two women before I actually came out. I’d been dating one of them for a bit and decided I wasn’t being fair to her. I knew I was a lesbian but I wasn’t sure I could be a lesbian. I had a boyfriend. I was Catholic. I went to a Catholic college. It was 1987. There was no lesbian chic, I promise you. I stopped dating her and it took me another 3 months to decide that, yes, I could be a lesbian.

I’ve never looked back.

PS Sorry, Jude. This isn’t the scandalous part of the story! ;) That I may never tell quite this publicly. Ask me next year at the Refocksa weekend. I’ll tell it to you then!