Lesbian Visibility Day
This is a love letter to my journey, my love, my freedom, and my community.
Img taken from Pinterest, featuring “Ammonite” (2020) screenshot.
The Realisation: Love Was Never a Game
Being straight was always taught to me by default. Through school, media, society — it was presented as the only option. I thought liking boys was just a game we all played.
When my girlfriends started genuinely liking boys, I was convinced they were joking — surely, we were all in on the same secret?
When they started dating in high school, I was in shock. Our collective slogans — "fuck men," "a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" — suddenly seemed one-sided.
I never felt anything real for the boys I crushed on because, to me, it was all a joke.
And then…
My first kiss with a girl felt like I tapped into the universe. It was like fireworks, like a volcano explosion, like a flutter of butterfly’s wings.
My first time having sex with a girl felt like the most natural thing to occur. I felt like my most authentic self.
It was real, it always has been.
I loved deeply, and I wasn’t going to stop doing so just because somewhere in the world it is considered taboo.
Coming Out: An Infinite Bloom
Coming out isn’t one grand declaration. It’s a thousand tiny ones, every day.
I continuously have to come out — at work, to new friends, to new nail techs, to random taxi drivers trying to flirt, or to random men on the street who assume I will fall head over heels for them.
When I came out at 16 years old (first as a bisexual), I was amongst the first queer individuals in my school.
I came out to my 2-3 closest friends, but deep down I wanted to scream my love for women from a pedestal, to proclaim it in any way I could.
At 22 I came out as a lesbian, and it was scary to pronounce at first, a whole new identity to explore. But in reality, I finally discovered my true self.
Coming out is personal. Vulnerable. Ongoing.
No one owes anyone their story until they are ready. Safety first, always.
Pride in Love: Loving Women Out Loud
Loving women isn’t just "okay." It isn’t just accepted, or tolerated.
It is something sacred and wild.
It is something worthy of being sung from the mountaintops and whispered like prayers into the night.
My love for women is not something I shrink or hide. It is something I proclaim in every brushstroke of paint, every word of poetry, every look that lingers, every heartbeat that roars I am here. I am loving. I am free.
Loving women feels like breathing, like remembering a song you’ve known before you were even born.
It is instinctive. It is fierce. It is the gentlest rebellion, and the loudest homecoming.
Standing with women gives me strength. It is resistance — but it is also celebration. It is a refusal to apologise for who I am, who I love, and who I will continue to become.
Loving women is not just an act of personal truth — It is an act of collective freedom. A reminder that no system, no prejudice, no lie ever written about us will be stronger than the way two women’s hands fit perfectly together, stronger than the way we build new worlds every time we kiss without shame.
My love is not quiet — It is a cathedral.
And I will keep ringing the bells.
Women’s Rights: The Fight Isn’t Over
They want us to believe that the battle for women's rights is over — but that is far from the truth.
But women still face violence, harassment, inequality every single day.
And queer women, trans women, women of colour — carry even heavier battles.
Oppression is intersectional. It was always meant to divide us — but community is our resistance.
We are bombarded with heteronormativity and a communal understanding that suffering is okay.
Take Disney princesses for example:
The Little Mermaid gave up her voice for a man.
Cinderella couldn’t stand up for herself and waited to be rescued.
Sleeping Beauty was dormant in her prime years until a man came to "rescue" her and took her as a prize.
Beauty and the Beast romanticises Stockholm syndrome — she "fell in love" with her abductor.
It’s time we stop waiting to be saved.
It’s time we save ourselves.
Medical Neglect: The Elephant in the Room
Women’s health has been ignored and neglected for centuries — and it continues today.
Here’s the reality:
Women are diagnosed with heart disease 7–10 years later than men.
Cancer? 6 months to 2 years later — losing precious time.
Women’s pain is dismissed, labelled "hysterical" — as if we imagine it.
Pain meds were mostly tested on men’s bodies. Making itd dangerous for us.
The "8 hours of sleep" rule? Built for male biology. Women need closer to 10 hours — so we run exhausted.
Erectile dysfunction has over 16,000 studies. Endometriosis, affecting 1 in 10 women? Barely 300 trials.
We have been expected to stay silent.
I say: no more. I am done pleasing others.
I talk about this often on my blog, because being silent is a luxury I no longer afford.
My Poetry: Our Love in Ink
For centuries, women had to hide their love in stolen glances, secret verses, hidden paintings. They were labelled as “very close friends”.
Being able to write freely, openly, as a lesbian has been one of the most liberating and joyful acts of my life.
Today, I write openly. Loudly. Joyfully.
I write for the women I have loved. The women I love now.
I’m so grateful for all the women who fought, who resisted, so that I can live my life freely. I am proud to carry on that tradition out loud and unhidden. I will never have my voice silenced.
I have dedicated a whole book to my poetry about lesbian love — honouring my past loves, embracing the present, and building my future.
I build my future with ink, heart, and rebellion.
Witchcraft and the Return of the Feminine
For centuries, when women came together in sacred spaces, it was seen as dangerous. A threat. Because when women gather, we remember our strength — our power lies not in domination, but in connection and our wild selves.
Most men are afraid of feminine strength — afraid of her rage, afraid of her power. We come together energetically and physically. Our voices are amplified when we gather — echoing into the farthest corners of the world.
To sit in a circle is to reject hierarchy, domination, and control.
Here, we are equals.
It is a reclamation of space, of voice, of presence.
In a world desperate to divide us, we choose to unite. To witness. To amplify each other’s voices. Across ages, cultures, and beliefs — we rise.
The word hag comes from Old English "hægtesse" — once a term for a wise woman, a healer. Patriarchy twisted it into a slur. Made wisdom ugly. Made aging a crime.
But we remember. We reclaim. We return.
Visibility Matters: We Were Always Here
Visibility isn’t about seeking approval.
It’s about showing other queer individuals that they are heard, that they are not silenced, that their existence is valid, celebrated, and embraced.
It’s about showing the world that we have always been here — and will continue to exist no matter what oppressive tactics are used against us.
We are not alone. We honour the ones who fought for our visibility. We carry on the legacy.
Lesbians continue to love women — in every tender gaze, every aching kiss, every time our bodies come together and write poetry skin to skin. Loving a woman is worship in its purest form.
With love, rage, and endless poetry,
— a proud Lesbian Poetess
