I posted a few days ago about trying to figure out transphobia. I loved the responses and have rather voraciously read things and watched videos not necessarily suggested here, but we all start somewhere.

What became increasingly clear (oh, that’s not accidental wording, and yes, I’ll give you a moment) was this tremendous hatred. It was unsettling, and it hurt ME.

Should it have? Well, I don’t want to unpack my entire life, and y’all might get bored. I just was never part of the movement because, well, it never directly affected me. It was always just to the side of things. The lesbian I “lost my virginity to,” my raver days disappointing boys, my two butch wives, the femme I recovered from those with. I was able to see humour and irony, but somehow … I couldn’t quite get here.

But my god. You start hearing what was said before the '90s about the “homosexual agenda,” and it’s the sort of thing that made me wish I weren’t in a van so I could puke. It’s just so facially wrong. Just so … how was this ever a thing?

I don’t remember the last time doing research was viscerally damaging. I’m sorry that I didn’t get y’all before. I had the whole “white guy dating women” thing, when no one realized I didn’t ever date or marry straight chicks. I mean, maybe the short hair as a constant should have been a red flag, but, you know, tits, vag, whatever.

I liked to consider myself an exponent of what was then called the GBLT community in college. I ran into a columnist I’d run at a rave. I was always – always – just this side of accepting that I wasn’t covering them, I was covering us.

And I’m sorry. I didn’t feel the label was needed. But as I’ve finally gone down the rabbit hole of hell we encounter, I’m sorry I wasn’t here for everyone who figured this out long ago, and I was not more forcefully supportive.

Because I had that chance, and I didn’t take it. I failed you, and I failed myself. I might have killed people by my coverage choices. I don’t think I did, but I don’t really know.

But please accept that I will do what I can going forward. No one needs to feel unloved for who they are. I am not in a position to solve things these days, but I would like to see what I can do in the future.

This includes a role as an advocate for the queer community. I have been told I’m good at writing, and I am trying to find my role and tribe. For now, I have finally landed. I just hope it wasn’t at Sky Harbor and I have to drive.

  • PerogiBoi@lemmy.ca
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    1 year ago

    Human sexuality and attraction exists on a spectrum. You just happen to not be at either extreme end. I found out I was too the same way you did, except a mushroom trip started the thought process.

      • PerogiBoi@lemmy.ca
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        1 year ago

        I was in the shower at the end of my trip and felt this horrible slamming feeling in my chest because it just wasn’t fucking fair that I had to hide and feel shameful about what I was into (not just women) and then I was like “fuck, I’m just bi”.

        Sounds silly but it was one of the most profound experiences and helpful ones I’ve had.

        • Pete Hahnloser@beehaw.orgOP
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          1 year ago

          My first trip was a year ago, and I’m still learning. We choose to do them, but we don’t get to choose the outcome.

          My experience has been that we get confronted with what we hadn’t been willing to accept.

  • sculd@beehaw.org
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    1 year ago

    Doing research on this topic is indeed very challenging for mental health, I can definitely relate.

    Being forced to recognize yourself is a terrifying process, but one that is necessary to understand the true self. Good luck on your journey.