You know, I’ve been in this business longer than I’d like to admit. I was writing m/m when you didn’t admit it to anyone or you risked losing your children, you risked losing your job. Hell, in places, you risked your life.
I was a lesbian in a time and a place where women didn’t fall in love with other women. I remember getting a brick thrown at me in high school because I’d leaned against my girlfriend (best friend? back then, you couldn’t imagine anything else) on the school bus. I did what we all did. I got married to a man. I stayed married for a long, long time.
I fell in love with one woman after another and had to hide it, I lied about it, even to myself, because that’s how it worked. Even the liberal people I knew were more tolerant of the idea of GLBT, than the reality.
Then I met Julia. I won’t lie — we tried to deny each other. We tried to be friends. We tried to be a triad.
We tried to say that it wasn’t real, but that was the lie we couldn’t keep telling ourselves.
It sucks, because people were hurt. Lots of them. Family members and friends that thought they knew me had to come to grips with a new me, a true me. Some people that I never imagined would pull away from me have disappeared from my life. Some folks that I knew wouldn’t understand have accepted me easily. I’ve discovered that the place that is the home of my heart is somewhere that I had to walk away from. Don’t get me wrong, I love my new home and I would follow J to the ends of the earth, but I’m a Texan and a part of me will forever be homeless now, not because I left, but because I don’t think I can return.
It’s been something else, being out of the closet, being honest about who I am, who I love. It’s not perfect: we don’t hold hands in public, we’re careful, especially if we’re visiting places that I love with my heart. When we go to rodeo events or country concerts, we don’t sit too close, we don’t touch. People that purport to love us sit in our house and tell us that we don’t deserve to get married.
It sucks. But, to lie for years, that sucks harder.
And to look at my lover, my girl, my J and deny that I love her? That my reason why, everyday, always.
Also? I write m/m. And m/m/f. And f/f. And m/f. So there, ha.