Most authors will agree that writing can truly be therapeutic. Sometimes we can work out our deep-seated issues with our characters. We can create the people we wish we were, and make the people we hate get their comeuppance. It’s a chance to explore a life that never will be, to embody a great hero, and to explore beautiful, diverse worlds. It’s a chance to tell our story. Which is why I chose to write about a woman who falls in love with another woman.
When I was around 11 years old I watched Titanic at the cinema, and realised that I liked watching Kate as much as I liked watching Leo. Of course, I was 11, and so were most of the other people I knew. “Lesbian” was used as an insult. So I kept quiet.
At 16 years old, a friend’s parent started a rumor in my school that I was lesbian. Kids threw stones at me.
Seven years later I went away to university, and people were way more understanding and diverse, and so I came out as bisexual to my uni friends. It wasn’t an issue, and I finally felt like I could be myself. Back at home, however, it took months of summoning the courage to tell my friends and family, and the resounding response I had, after all that soul searching and courage summoning was, “No you’re not,” and “It’s just a phase.”
I never discussed it with them again.
I’m now very happily married to a man. He knows about my sexuality and is supportive and amazing about it.
But, the reason I chose to write about a bisexual woman, is because I feel as though I never got the chance to be fully open and comfortable with my sexuality. I was scared of abandonment and rejection. Writing this down genuinely terrifies me. It shouldn’t, but my heart is pounding and my fingers are shaking.
I wrote my book for myself, for people like me, and people who see that all love between consenting adults is beautiful.
If I’m going to face criticism, then I need to accept myself the way I am, and the way I would anyone else who came out to me. I don’t feel as though I’m a good role-model, because I hide. I’m in awe of the people who are out and proud at any age. I’m almost 32 years old, and I can’t keep being that 11 year old girl, terrified of her classmates. I’m a fully grown, bisexual woman, who wrote a story about another bisexual woman, a dragon, and a herd of murderous centaurs.
Thank you for reading, if you made it this far. It helped to write this down, hence the therapeutic nature of writing.
Bravo! It’s hard to open up about things we’ve had diminished and rediculed by those who should love and support us unconditionally. You’ve got this.
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