11 May 2011

Coming Out: part one???

Anyone who’s ever struggled with their sexual orientation knows it takes a long, long time to acknowledge your own desires and, even then, it takes effort of will to get over the shame and fear. For me, I considered my own desires awful and wicked and shameful and refused to acknowledge them for a long time. Here’s a bit from my novel about how, age 25 in September 2001, I started the process. I admit, it’s graphic … but I just have my own story to tell.
It continues from where this earlier post leaves off:
http://damascusgaygirl.blogspot.com/2011/05/september.html
read that first if you haven’t already …

Evening


Katy came in through the door when I opened it; her face looked stressed, concerned. She was still dressed like she’s at work; long cotton skirt, loose blouse. In her arms were paper sacks; I take them from her and show her in. As soon as I put down the bags, she gives me a tight hug; I’ve needed that all day.
“Wow,” she says, “you’re stressed! I can feel knots all over your back!”
“Can’t imagine why,” I laugh, “and I’m sure I’m not the only one!”
She laughs.
Katy starts unpacking her bags; she went by a Thai place, one of the few still open today she says, and got takeout for both of us; green curry chicken for me, pad Thai for her.
We sit down to eat and I realize how famished I am. She laughs. Over food, we chit chat … mostly, unfortunately, trading speculations on the news of the day. I’ve been more glued to the screen than she but she’s heard more of the ‘word on the street’ – and, of course, most of those I’ve spoken to have the same parochial concerns I have.
There were rumors, she says, that something happened at the Sears Tower; she’d heard about evacuations at O’Hare and Midway. Lots of people in the air or away from home today have been checking in. We both can tick off several people who might be dead, but, for both of us, they are all at most second-degree friends.
“You know,” I say, “there’s going to be a war.”
“I don’t know,” she says, “isn’t this enough? And no one’s clearly to blame.”
“The government will want to blame someone,” I say, “even if they don’t have evidence; did you ever see that movie ‘In the Name of the Father’?”
“I remember the theme song,” she says, “Sinead, right? But I never saw it. Why?”
“There’s a bombing – it’s based on a true story – and the British grab the first Irish guys they find since they figure it’s the IRA. So that people will get calm. US government does it too; in Atlanta, they jailed a guy for the Olympic bombing ‘cause he’s the one who called the police.”
“So you think they’ll nab someone?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, “and it’ll probably someone who looks more like me than you.”
“I know,” Katy says, glumly. “It could get really bad …”
“That’s why I’m stressed!” I laugh nervously.
“Amina,” Katy says and pats my hand in a way that doesn’t seem patronizing, “if it comes to it, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“Thanks,” I laugh though I know she is being sincere; she’s here, isn’t she? “I think that, if something bad goes down here, I have it easier than most.”
“Why’s that?”
“If I go out, dressed like I am now, no scarf or anything, who knows I’m Arab or Muslim? I can pass …”
“Yeah,” Katy laughs, “I’ll call you ‘Amy’ …”
“Exactly!” I grin. “When I was younger, you know, I used to wish I was Amy not Amina … I used to wish I was Amy McClure and had blonde hair … so maybe, now, I’ll have to live that out!”
“Then you wouldn’t be you!” Katy protests. “And you’re a lot prettier with your hair color anyway.”
“Yup,” I laugh, “and everything in life could be different …”
For a moment, I’m lost in thought with visions of that counter life.
“Anyway,” I say, as I return to the present and start clearing the table, “we’re here and now … and here and now doesn’t look good. This is the beginning.”
“I don’t think so,” Katy says as she gets up and helps me. “I mean, I think people will be more sad and hurt and won’t want more killing. Nobody wants war.”
“I know,” I sigh, “and I wish you were right. But, I think, it’s not going to be a matter of what the people think. The government and the media are going to jump on a war wagon. And these idiots just gave them a blank check.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Wow, I don’t want to think about this …”
“Me neither!” Katy says as she grabs the other bag she’d brought with her.
She hands me a pack of cigarettes, takes one for herself. She lights mine, then hers, we stand in silence, contemplating.
“Amina,” she says, giggles, “I mean, Amy! I know that you don’t drink but … well, I thought you might want a glass of wine …”
She pulls a bottle out of the bag. I chew my lip for half a second. Medicinal usage is OK, isn’t it? I ask myself.
“Sure,” I say and get glasses (juice glasses; I don’t even own the right type of stemware) as she uncorks the bottle.
It’s a white wine; I know so little about wine, I can’t identify more.
“To better days,” she says, raising a glass and I clink mine with hers.
“Cheers!”
Katy’s also brought a movie for us to watch; a videotape of The Princess Bride. We settle in on the couch, sipping wine and watching it, giggling and talking through the movie. And it seems a little less tense for now, even if it is just the wine going straight to my head.
When the movie ends, I get up to turn off the VCR, only slightly light-headed from the wine. As I stand, I grunt; I feel like I’ve pulled a muscle in my shoulder. I rub it lightly as I sit back down. Katy looks at me concerned.
“Want some help with that?” she asks.
I nod and turn my back to her. She starts to rub my shoulders.
“You’re incredibly tight,” she says with concern.
“Stress, y’know?” I reply.
“Have you thought about getting a massage or seeing a chiro?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“If you want,” she says, “I could give you a massage … at least, I think, I could get some of these really huge knots out.”
“Is it really that bad?” I wonder.
“Amina,” she says, sternly, “I used to work as a licensed masseuse; I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone knottier than you …”
“OK,” I laugh, “I guess that’s a good idea.”
I turn back to face her. Katy’s looking around, in thought.
“I could go home,” she says, “and get my massage table … but that would be a waste of time. I think it makes more sense to use your mattress.”
“OK,” I nod. “Do you need anything else?”
“Got some lotion?”
“Of course,” I say as I stand up and head into the bathroom.
I return with some baby oil and give it to Katy. We both go into the bedroom. I pull the covers off the bed so it’s bare, with just the fitted sheet.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Well,” Katy says, slightly embarrassed, “usually the patient gets undressed and lays down.”
“OK,” I laugh, “I guess you can tell I haven’t had many massages, right?”
“Yeah,” Katy laughs. “I’ll try to be gentle when I take your virginity.”
Without further word, I start unbuttoning my blouse, hang it on a doorknob; I notice Katy is watching me in a sort of amused way. For some reason, I find, I like that. I unhook my bra and hang it up; again, I feel like Katy is trying not to look at me. Quickly, I unbutton my pants and pull them off, pulling underwear along with pants off ... and, as I stand up completely nude, I see that Katy is looking at me.
To save any awkwardness, I lay down on my stomach in the center of the bed.
“You know,” Katy says, “this might be a little weird, but since we’re close to the floor and all, so I can move around, I should take off my skirt …”
“I’m completely naked,” I say and laugh into the mattress, “it’s really not that weird!”
I look across the mattress and see her hanging up her long cotton skirt. She’s got great legs, I think and try to lose the thought while Katy squirts oil into her palms, starts rubbing her hands together before kneeling on the mattress beside me. Slowly, she begins to work my knotted flesh. It feels good. I slowly relax and enjoy the tension easing as sh works me over. Then, Katy straddles me; I can feel her thighs against my buttocks and the warmth and satiny feel of her underwear rubbing against me. I feel slightly embarrassed as I’m aware that it is definitely turning me on when I realize that. I concentrate on the relief I feel instead.
“Ahh,” I sigh as she releases a spot of intense pain.
“You like that?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I smile, “keep doing that and I’ll do anything you want in return!”
“Anything?” she repeats, amusement in her voice.
“Yup, anything,” I say, feeling really good just then. “Right now, you’ve practically got me melting! Seriously, you could totally have your way with me right now …”
“Ha,” she answers, sounding like she’s grinning. “You should be careful saying things like that!”
“Oh?” I wonder. “Why’s that?”
“Well,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone, “I think I’ve told that I’ve been known to date women and I just might want to take you up on that offer and have my wicked way with you.”
“That’s funny,” I smile, still relaxed and feeling good, wondering where this is going but not feeling frightened.
“That doesn’t bother you?” she asks earnestly, pausing her massage.
“What?” I ask as innocently as I can.
“That I’ve dated women?”
“No,” I reply honestly. “Do you think it should?”
“I don’t really know,” she answers, slowly. “I had just assumed it might; I thought you might have thought less of me since I told you.”
“No, not at all,” I shake my head as much as I can with it pressed against the mattress, “it doesn’t bother me in the slightest; you’re my best friend, y’know?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I mean that,” I say. “You really are. And not just because you’re here. But, seriously, you know, though. what does bother me more than a little?”
“Mmm-mm,” she says; I can’t see her face but I can almost hear her eyebrows wrinkling up the way that they do, “no, what’s that?”
“That you say that you’re attracted to women,” I say somewhat nervously, trying to disguise my nerves with what I hope sounds like humor, “yet, as far as I can tell, you’ve never ever even tried making a pass at me!”
Katy laughs long and loud; I feel more than a little embarassed at having even brought it up.
“Amina, my dear,” she says at last when she regains her composure, “let’s look at a couple of things: first off, I’ve got you sprawled under me naked right now, so why would I need to hit on you?”
“Point,” I laugh with her.
“Hold on,” she continued seriously, sliding down and sprawling beside me on the mattress. “Second, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve claimed to be religious and modest and straight and so on and, until recently, as far as I knew, happily married. So, again, wouldn’t hitting on you be kind of rude?”
“Yeah,” I agreed as I raised myself on my elbows and turned towards her, “who knows? I might’ve blown up at you or freaked out or something, right?”
“Well, exactly,” she nodded and now looked straight at me as I faced her. “And, finally, that wouldn’t be any good at all ‘cause I’ve had this huge, enormous crush on you for the longest time …”
“Really?” I blinked, more than a little startled. “Are you pulling my leg?”
“No,” she shook her head and turned to avoid looking at me, “it’s not exactly something you want to admit, y’know? But I’ve always thought you were attractive, even before we started hanging out, like from the first time I saw you in the store and I’ve hoped you wouldn’t mind so I knew if I told you I might scare you and, then, I’d end up driving you off …”
“It’s OK,” I said, sitting up fully now and having turned over; now, Katy was more or less sitting opposite me. I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Really, Katy, it’s totally OK with me.”
“You sure?” she said and looks at me with, I think, tears on the verge of coming.
“Yes,” I say, not knowing quite what to do and I pull her towards me, hugging her.
“Besides,” I say softly, surprised in one part of my brain by what I’m doing, overjoyed in another, “you should know, you’re not the only one with a huge crush here …”
And next thing, I know, I kiss her on the mouth, and she kisses me back and we’re kissing, kissing like we’ve both been hungering for a long time. I feel her hands on my bare back squeezing me closer to her, and then I feel her touching my breasts; my nipples tingle …. and my own hands are exploring her like mad, as I have wanted to for so long and pretended I did not.
Then, I’m pulling her shirt off over her head when we stop kissing for a moment and we both are looking at each other with happiness and hunger on our faces … and we are kissing and I am unhooking her bra, looking at her beautiful breasts, bigger than mine, then kissing those magnificent rosy breasts, teasing her nipples as she gasps and rubbing her crotch through her sodden underwear and pulling them off as I kiss her again … and she’s all over me, kissing down my neck, my shoulders, teasing my breasts with her mouth … and I feel incredibly alive and turned on and hot and wet and excited and I want her and she wants me and I’m touching her and kissing her and she’s touching me and kissing me and we stay like this, exploring each other, like a dam has been burst and both of us have a flood of pent up sexual hunger for each other flooding down …
We are laying side by side on my bed, both of us nude, kissing and touching and I sit up and push her onto her back.
“I want you,” I say as I crouch between her legs and look over her, so beautiful before me.
“I want you too,” she says and I lean down so I can smell her sex and see the soft flame red hairs over what I think is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen … so I kiss her there on her pubic mound and touch her clitoris with my lips …
“You don’t have to,” she says.
“I want to,” I look up and then go down on her … and she’s squirming in delight and I am loving every moment of this intimacy, more than I have ever enjoyed anyone else before. She has her hands in my hair as she orgasms and gasps and I keep going and going until she has clearly ceased and then I kiss her long and hard and deep …
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” she says.
“I know,” I tell her, “and I’ve wanted you.”
And she goes down on me and I orgasm intensively, maybe harder than ever in my life until now … and its probably the best orgasm I’ve ever had because it’s not like when I’m touching myself and thinking about her or some other woman or when it was me and Hisham and I’d imagine he was Hind or Katy or … and hours, actual hours pass of us just kissing and touching each other and having the most intense orgasms and such; it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before, nothing that has ever gone on and on and on like this … and we fall asleep entangled in each other’s arms and I can’t quite tell where Katy ends and Amina begins and I like this more than anything I have ever known before …
And as I fall asleep, I realize that, for the first time in a long time, I’m not afraid.


Morning


I lay in my bed feeling good for the first time in months as I stretched in the first bits of sunlight seeping through the windows. I felt happy, I felt good and I hadn’t felt so well in … as long as I can remember. For a moment, while my eyes were still shut, I imagined that it was six months ago; there were no terrorists, no divorce, no questions of identity to grapple with …
As I opened my eyes, I saw I was alone in the bed but could see that someone had just been there; I heard noises coming from elsewhere in the condo … coffeepot, television or radio … I see long red hairs on the pillow and I smile …
“Katy …” I thought lazily to myself, thinking how wonderful last night had been … and, then, a moment of dread seized me … I had just had sexual relations with a woman! And, this time, I couldn’t pretend to myself that it was just youthful experimentation or stupidity; I’d known full well what I was getting into and I had initiated it. And it hadn’t been for a moment or some fleeting embarrassed thing but was clearly the real deal …
Did this mean I was a lesbian? Maybe, I thought, or at least that I really was bisexual or something like that. I’d thought those questions had been settled a long time ago by me by sheer force of will; I had clamped down so very hard on those thoughts, fled from them as far as I could; I’d thought my will had triumphed over temptation … but now, here they were lying wide open again.
And the idea of being gay was no more appealing to me now than it ever had been in the past, even if I’d never actually been attracted to anyone who wasn’t female … but I really, really did like Katy, liked her a lot and had liked her a lot before last night … and I really, really liked having sex with her and I could admit that to myself … which meant that I really wasn’t the perfect heterosexual I’d been hoping for so many years that I could become.
And I didn’t quite know what to do with that.
Katy walked into the bedroom, wearing one of my bathrobes and holding a mug.
“You awake?” she asked and I nodded.
She sat down beside me on the bed, smiling at me in a way I can only describe as beatific.
“Don’t worry,” she said as she touched my shoulder, “there’s no need to rush anything; you’re amazing and you’re beautiful, Amina.”
I looked up at her and smiled back and everything felt all right.
“Thanks,” I said softly, “I think you’re pretty amazing, too!”
She smiled back at me and I sat up and kissed her.
“You’re not mad at me?” she asked.
“Why should I be?” I wondered.
“For,” she gestured with her hand sweeping in the bedroom, “all of this; seducing you, taking advantage of you when you were down …”
“Sweetheart,” I grinned, “let’s remember who kissed who! You didn’t take advantage of me at all!”
She laughed and we kissed again, for a longer time this time.
“I made some coffee,” she said, “and I got into your clothes …”
“It’s OK,” I smiled as I got up, put on another robe, and followed her into the kitchen.
We sat, quietly, drinking coffee and taking in the news; more of the same … but still …
“Do you wanna go get something to eat?” Katy asked.
“Want me to cook up something?” I asked.
“No,” she shook her head, “I was thinking more of going out somewhere … for brunch? Y’know?”
So we headed out, together, to one of those trendy brunching places that seem to litter gentrifying and upscale urban neighborhoods, where the food really isn’t all that remarkable but all the other yuppies claim it is … and the prices are anything but cheap.
The one we went to, that Wednesday, was almost deserted: the streets, too, seemed rather empty. But, above us, a bright blue sky shown down on a warm day. Most people, I suppose, who didn’t have to be somewhere in those days chose to stay at home …
We sat and ordered and made idle conversation over more coffee and pancakes and eggs and so on … and, it seemed, both of us had agreed not to talk about last night and what had happened … and, finally, Katy looked at me right in the eye and said:
“Amina, there’s something I think I need to say,”
And I swallowed hard, dreading what she was going to say (and trying to guess what that was going to be: was she going to tell me that she had had a boyfriend all along and he was coming back in town? Was this how someone got dumped?)
“I like you a lot,” she continued, “a whole lot and I really value our friendship and, so, I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize that, so, well, what happened, well …”
“Yes?” I said, in dread; I knew I was about to be told-off, felt it and started bracing myself. “What about it?”
“Well,” she said, “I know we were both under a great deal of stress and things happened, and I feel like maybe we both might have said some things that we wish we hadn’t and maybe did some things that we regret … and, anyway, I just feel like I took advantage of you when you were in a bad place and made you do things you didn’t want to …”
Her voice trailed off and I found myself chewing my lower lip.
“Katy,” I said and made myself smile, “you didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do, that I hadn’t thought about doing with you …”
“Really? You sure?”

“Yup,” I nodded and placed my hand on hers, “when you told me you had a crush on me, I told you I had one too. And I wasn’t lying. I was thinking about you in, um That Way, for a long time. And wondering if anything could happen and hoping it would and worrying that it might never … and being scared of it not happening and scared of it happening….”
“Yes?” she looked at me expectantly.
“Well,” I said, “I don’t want you to think that there was anything wrong with what we did or that you forced me into anything; remember, I kissed you first. If anything, well, I feel more like I forced you into something …”
“No, don’t say that,” she now clasped my hand tightly.
“I won’t,” I said and looked down at my plate. “But what happens now?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean after last night, what happens?”
“Well,” she sighed, “we can, I suppose, go back to how things were and pretend that nothing happened if you ‘d like. We both go on like before and pretend we never shared that one night. Or …”
“Or what?” I asked after she was silent for a long time.
“We can see how we work as a couple, y’know? Start dating, maybe, instead of just being friends?”
I was quiet and thought for a long moment. Which did I want to do? I think I knew pretty clearly as soon as the choice was offered.
I stood up and stepped towards her, grabbed her face in my hands and turned it towards me. I kissed her long and hard and fiercely …
And when we parted we were both half-gasping for air.
“So which is it?” she asked.
“I think you know,” I grinned. “Wow, I feel so good …”
“Cause of this?”
“Yeh, cause of this,” I nodded, “like I’m finally doing what’s right, what I always knew I should. Cause, Katy, I’m pretty sure I’m a, uh, lesbian …”
“Sweetheart, one night doesn’t make you a lesbian!”
“No, it doesn’t,” I nodded. “I know that. But I’ve also been pretty sure I was gay for more than ten years …
And then it all came out in a rush and she just sat and listened and nodded and patted my hand and made nice sounds as started telling her about how I’d first realized I was gay when I was fifteen, told her about Lori and what she did and how I wanted to die and was going to kill myself and God saved me and about Hind and how I had been crazy about her and how I’d cried all night when I found out she was getting married and how I’d been too scared to go away to school because I knew I’d end up sleeping with a woman first chance I got … and I guess I wasn’t wrong was I?
And she laughs and I keep going and tell her about how I used to have crushes on my teachers and my friends and how I’d read books about lesbians late at night when everyone was asleep and how I was always terrified that I’d accidentally out myself one day and how I didn’t care anymore and how I had hoped marrying Hisham would be the cure for my sickness but it hadn’t worked, how I’d tried as hard as I could but it never seemed right and how I had thought she was gorgeous first time I saw her and had gone to her bookstore so often hoping sh was working. I mean really, didn’t it ever occur to you I could use amazon like everyone else?
And she says, yeah, I wondered about that a lot. I just thought maybe you were too rich to care.
And I told her how I’d dreamed about her for months and …and now here we were and I wanted to be her girlfriend more than anything …
And, so, September 11, 2001 had two significances for me …. the day the world crashed in for me as an Arab-American and the day I took a huge leap into the unknown …

11 comments:

Emily said...

This is so intensely gripping and beautiful. So many feelings that I know well are reflected in this piece... it makes me want to fall in love again.

(I've just started reading your blog a few days ago, and I'm already hooked -- thank you for writing it!)

Nostradamus said...

MARG BARG JOHMHOURIYEH DAHATI

:) I hope our countries, iran and syria, will soon be free.

dawnings said...

I just found you through a link on yahoo news. WOW! I started with this post and look forward to reading more. Beautiful, powerful writing -- a beautiful, powerful story. I honor your courage and honesty. Thank you for being who you are! You are truly an inspiration!

Purple Dragon said...

Amina,
Thank you SO much for your blog and for the fire within you that keeps you fighting for a "better tomorrow." I am an American LGBT woman, and recently discovered your blog. You probably already know this, but there are several articles about you and your amazing spirit here in the Americas. I created a blog--which I may never post myself--simply to follow you and let you know that I am sending out positive intentions for you and your father, and all the people caught in the midst of this chaos. Keep going with your wise words and raw vulnerability! People are "listening." I am a simple person and don't know a lot of people. But everyone I do know, I will tell about you and about the truth of what is really happening in Syria! Speak you truth, girl: you are powerful.

sdflkj said...

Amina, I don't know you, but I know we have a lot in common. You're an amazing writer and more than that, an amazingly brave person with so much to share. Thank you for this blog -- we need to hear more voices like yours. Sending you so many warm thoughts from New York. xo

oria said...

fap fap fap

sevin said...

More power to you! keep the great blogging coming! :)

Sarah said...

I'm so addicted to your blog! So many familiar feelings in this piece; so many gasps for air; so many memories of my own coming out. I'm a british lesbian who did her coming out whilst living in syria for 3 months, where i met some of my favourite and most incredible people. Your blog touches something deep inside me as well as keeping me up to date and informed in the present crisis (better than i trust the international media for sure!) Wishing you all the peace, love and luck you need. Please keep writing. Sarah x

Paul said...

Amina,

I am in awe. To openly acknowledge and write about your experience must had been hard, but to do this in an environment that puts you at risk for your personal safety much have taken incredible courage.

I applaud you. - Paul

RaNdOm_rAnTs said...

loved it >< reading this just makes me accept myself but i guess only time will tell XP

alicia said...

Thank you so much for this. So courageous and beautifully written. Your voice and story really resonates!

I write for a blog called Gender Across Borders (http://www.genderacrossborders.com/). I'd love, love, love to write a piece about you and your writing. Could we Skype or could I even just email you a few quick questions? Please email me: alsimoni @ yahoo.com. I hope to hear from you. And in the meantime, I'm looking forward to reading new posts here!

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