How Being a Lesbian Has Helped Me Become a Better Person

Hearing your mom say that your dad will have a stroke because of you is not easy. Especially when you are 18.

But that was not the only bad thing my parents told me when I came out.

They made me have a consultation with a medium.

They controlled how many times I could meet my then-girlfriend.

They told me to hide my sexuality — and, thus, my relationship — from my extended family, who I met regularly.

It Got Better…

Before you get mad at them, know that I am not. I would kindly ask you to not be mad either. Things changed in the meantime.

It took some years, but now both my parents are super supportive of me — of all of me. And of my girlfriend too, they love her!

My extended family knows I like women, and they still love me.

Sometimes my dad shares LGBTQ+ content on Facebook. He’s a proud father to a lesbian daughter.

…But It Left Scars

My country had an immigration wave around the time I came out and I remember hearing nasty comments about those people often. They were different from the offences addressed to LGBTQ+ folks, but they were equally mean and unfair.

I remember feeling deep empathy towards those people.

Like me, like us, they were being segregated because of who they were. They were born in another country, I was born gay. Why was any of that such a big deal?

Felling different from others in the small town where I grew up made me a lot more open to any kind of differences. It also made me realize that whatever people say about demographic groups is never true.

First of all, we are not all the same. I am not the same as every other lesbian woman. While I identify as such and I am proudly part of the community, I am still me. I am still Jess, above all.

Secondly, I realized the nasty comments against a demographic group are usually due to a lack of knowledge and a need of the offender to fit in.

My uncle used to tell homophobic jokes before he knew I was a lesbian. They made everyone laugh at family lunches. But when the “difference” comes knocking on your door, you see it in a different light.

My grandmother is a racist, but at some point she had a black co-worker. Guess what, she adored that lady! It’s dissociation at its finest.

Discrimination Is Discrimination

Having had my sense of self shaken at such a formative age shaped me forever. It made me more open, tolerant, empathetic and kind.

Try me…

Tell me you want to marry a chandelier. That you are addicted to eating sofas. That you’re a grown man who likes to dress as a baby.

You will be met with nothing but empathy from my side.

I don’t want to marry a chandelier, eat sofas or dress as a baby, but I’ve been through enough to know that what you feel, however weird, gross or unacceptable it may seem to others, is legit.

As long as it doesn’t hurt others, it is legit. Anything.

Before You Leave

Whatever is frowned upon in one place, is normal elsewhere. I was born in the 80s in a small town, in a small European country, so when I was a teen, being a lesbian was a big deal.

Had I been born 20 years later in London or NYC, the story would have been very different.

And what’s at stake, in both cases? The exact same thing: I like women.

People spend too much time caring about irrelevant stuff.

If you’re at the receiving end of discrimination, treat the offender with kindness. Be the bigger person. Give them absolutely no reason to have something bad to say about you.

If you are on the giving end, it’s about time you grow up. Like, right now.

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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

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From The Good Men Project on Medium

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My 9-Year-Old Accidentally Explained Why His Mom Divorced Me

The One Thing Men Want More Than Sex

The Internal Struggle Men Battle in Silence

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