I remember the day I accepted a gay man.
I remember the day I told those closest to me.
I even remember the day I told the not-so-close ones. How liberating.
But I don’t remember the day I started to feel part of the LGBTQIA+ community.
Maybe because I’m gay, I always looked at the acronym and saw a capital G – and the other very small letters.
How embarrassing. I make it clear that I have changed.
And that awareness only came when I left my sexist world. Yes, gays can and are sexist. And I decided to hear who also fights by my side.
I heard from a friend once that “LGBTQIA+”, depending on who reads it, becomes “GGGG”.
So, today, when Lesbian Pride Day is marked, I, in an attempt – I say tentative, because this is still very little – I want to open the space of the CNN column in the plural + to someone who has the property to speak about that date.
I present to you Larissa Pansani – journalist, lesbian and passionate about who she is:
You know what never left my mind?
These questions:
– “When did you become a lesbian?”. I didn’t, I always have.
– “But at what age?”. I think since I’ve known myself.
This dialogue is constant when they ask me about my sexuality. It takes a lot of girls a few years to realize that they might not be part of the standard set by society. But it wasn’t my case. I always knew. It was never an issue for me. It was never a process I had to go through.
When we talk about LGBTQIA+ pride, what comes to my mind is still prejudice within the community itself.
But what about prejudice? That’s right, the letter L still doesn’t have the respect it should have. Perhaps structural machismo explains it.
Or maybe not. The theme is sensitive and it is impossible to read it properly without using examples and situations. So I’ll bring you some of them:
I came to São Paulo in 2010 with the objective of studying Radio and TV and becoming a professional in the field of Communication.
It really was my goal. But not the only one. I also wanted to experience another reality, where being myself didn’t cause so much discomfort. In other words, coming to São Paulo was also part of my personal future. And when I started to experience this long-awaited reality, I noticed that there was a much bigger space for this community. but not to all the community.
There are many bars, themed parties, nightclubs and even Carnival blocks intended for the public. gay (or for men who stay with men). But not so many aimed at lesbian or bisexual audiences. Of course, these attractions have increased over the years, as in the daily struggle of the population queerbut it’s still a struggle.
In the pre-pandemic period, in a house that I will not mention the name, it was common for parties to be held for the LGBTQIA+ public. But, in practice, the targeting of the party was for gay and bisexual men.
How can I know this? At the time, the price of admission to the place ranged from R$50 to R$60 for men – and R$70 to R$80 for women. So, obviously, it wasn’t an attractive party for me, at least.
Another example is the variety of dating apps aimed at this audience. But how many were developed and designed for lesbian and bisexual women?
The truth is that there is a bias in the commercial industry that serves this community. It is as if the share of lesbian and bisexual women is not profitable. Much of this happens because of prejudice within the community itself.
I have fantastic friends – within the LGBTQIA+ community – who have never let go of my hand and accept and celebrate me every day. But the problem is, I have these friends now, in my 30s. Throughout my youth, many people from my social life, who were also part of the queertreated my situation with minor importance and even disdain.
It’s as if the gay man’s struggle is bigger than the lesbian woman’s struggle. And it is not so. The acceptance process is the same. The traumas and scars too. The disapproving look of people who don’t even know you hurts the same way.
So, before celebrating Lesbian Pride Day, we need to look inside this fight and come to the conclusion that it is a joint fight. In addition to women, men also need to make this fight legitimate. It’s a climb that needs to be done by everyone. Because if there is one thing that explains the space that the community queer have today, this thing is the partnership.
The letter L is not just a request for public policy for women who have relationships with women. It is not a box to segment an audience. It is not a festival of stereotypes and much less a sexual fantasy. The letter L is a cry for independence. Before, she represented me only by my name, Larissa. Today, it has a much greater meaning .
Source: CNN Brasil
