So, Are You Lesbian Now?
A story for those who make assumptions based on appearance and self-expression.
Story by Emily Porter
I remember sitting on the edge of my parents’ bathtub, my legs dangling off the side, barely reaching the floor, thumb in my mouth. I was wearing a tan baseball cap flipped backward and my brother’s hand-me-downs. My mom walked into the bathroom and squatted to meet my eyes. Her voice softened as she asked, “Emmy, do you want to be a boy?”
Stereotypes have been lucid in my life from the moment I started wearing my brother’s old t-shirts and basketball shorts long enough to reach my knees. It began with strangers mistaking me for a boy, leading my mother to explain, “Oh, no, this is my daughter, Emily.” It became a natural instinct for her time and time again.
My hair was bright blonde and long enough to reach my lower back and for as long as I can remember, I would play dress-up as a soldier. I had an old World War II green army jacket that I would wear. Frequently labeled as a tomboy, I also played many sports, including baseball on an all-boys team. And all of my friends, you guessed it, were boys.
As I grew older, my mother encouraged me to dress more feminine. For my first communion in middle school, I was forced to wear a dress. Imagine the confusion I felt as a first-grader feeling forced to wear something I didn’t feel like myself in. My mother meant no harm, but the scars linger to this day.
Around sixth grade, there were times when I would sit in the shower and cry picturing what I would look like with breasts. As the warm water flowed over me, I became more and more upset because I was told that only men could have a romantic relationship with a woman. Raised catholic, lesbian relationships were not discussed, and I was taught that the holy sacrament, marriage, is only shared between a man and a woman.
It wasn’t until same-sex marriage was legalized in Washington State in 2012 that I realized there was another option. I spent 15 years under a heteronormative rock.
As the warm water flowed over me, I became more and more upset because I was told that only men could have a romantic relationship with a woman.
As of 2019, USA Today reports 29 out of 195 countries worldwide have legalized same-sex marriage, but stereotypes and negative stigmas following LGBTQ people are far from dead. According to a Pew Research Center study, while 92% of queer-identifying people said society is becoming more accepting, 39% said they have been rejected by family or friends because of their gender identity or sexual orientation.
During my senior year of high school, I began a relationship with a woman, which became a two-year secret from the world. I would try to convince myself that I was straight, and I just happened to have romantic feelings for one woman. I had a constant stream of thoughts saying, this is just a phase. During our relationship, I had sexual relationships with men to maintain my straight-persona. In public spaces, my partner and I pretended we were just friends. Gradually, we plummeted into an emotionally abusive relationship. We were exploring a part of ourselves that was not fully developed which caused us to isolate ourselves from our friends and family.
As I was sorting out my own feelings, the people closest to me were trying to find the missing puzzle piece of my sexual identity. It felt as if someone was asking me to hurdle over a wall that I hadn’t yet trained for. At this point, I would wear dresses with heels, put on makeup and curl my long hair. I was terrified of men’s clothing due to the association of being “butch.”
During this time, I met my close friend Dorothy Rake. Her hair is short, what she described as a men’s cut. She often wears athletic clothes or slacks with dress shoes, and she never wears makeup. Dorothy said she has worn men’s clothes since she was five-years-old. Her first misgendering experience started in Kindergarten in the women’s restroom at her school. A mother looked at her and said, “Oh my gosh, honey are you lost? The boy’s bathroom is across the hallway.” Dorothy said this has shaped her for the rest of her life.
“People actually look at me and just assume,” Dorothy said. “The clothing I choose to wear causes people to assume either I am Lesbian or that I am not happy with who I am.”
Around sixth grade, Dorothy said she began feeling pressured to wear tight fitting tops and jeans, and she grew her hair out to fit in. In high school, she started wearing slacks and sweatpants because she didn’t want to conform to the assumptions and stereotypes of what females and males should wear.
It felt as if someone was asking me to hurdle over a wall that I hadn’t yet trained for.
“Someone is always going to judge you somewhere,” she said. “It’s just whether you are going to take that into consideration or be like, ‘you’re not living my life, so I don’t really care.’”
I spent two years in an abusive relationship until I finally ended it during the summer of my first year in college. Once the relationship ended, I started sharing my sexual identity with my friends. I was still confused about my sexuality, but I knew I was not straight. During my second year in college, I came out to my whole family.
In January 2018 my current partner, Schantell Hummel, and I started publicly dating. My friends continued asking, “So, are you like full-on lesbian now?”
Schantell grew up with fluid self-expression. Her mom bought her anything that did not have pink on it, and her dad once dressed her in a tuxedo for a wedding. A different time, he bought her a dress, but with flames on it.
Although her parents encouraged a more fluid style of clothing, Schantell said she found herself wearing “feminine” clothes. In high school, Schantell started to feel suppressed by her peers.
Because she dresses more femininely, people often assume she is a straight, cisgender woman. Schantell said people assume this because she doesn’t look like what society portrays as a stereotypical Lesbian.
“Just because my sexual orientation isn’t posted on my forehead doesn’t mean anyone can assume I am straight,” Schantell said.
Many people in the queer community are targets of slurs or jokes, according to the Pew Research Center. I can attest that verbal abuse and physical abuse are still present. At parties, Schantell and I have been harassed by men who have physically touched us or have made verbal comments in hopes that we will “turn straight” for them.
“Someone is always going to judge you somewhere,” she said. “It’s just whether you are going to take that into consideration or be like, ‘you’re not living my life, so I don’t really care.’”
I have struggled with my sexuality and gender identity, but it has shaped me into the woman I am today. I am lucky enough to have parents and siblings who support me. The freedom I have gained by enabling my self-expression is beyond anything I could have ever imagined. It took 21 years to build up my newfound self-confidence, but it was a journey worth exploring.