Stella Rogers, 22, spent years trying to be the 'normal gay' – avoiding anything that might mark her as a 'weird gay' in the eyes of others. Now back in Manchester, she says she is exactly the type of person her younger self would have sneered at.
Writing for Metro, Rogers describes an incident in 2022 when she and a gay friend sat in a bar judging a group of visibly queer people – colourful hair, florals, pride pins – and felt superior to them. 'We had just convinced ourselves we were better than them,' she writes.
Growing up and being outed
Rogers grew up in Stockport, Greater Manchester, and describes a happy childhood despite being a 'weird' kid. At 13, she was outed as a lesbian after confessing to a girl online – the only other out girl at her school – and by the next day everyone knew.
It was 2016, and even though gay marriage had been legalised in the US and brands were plastering rainbows over their logos during Pride month, the atmosphere at school was far from accepting. Her loved ones were supportive, but a slow buildup of casual homophobia rooted itself in her school routine.
She didn't experience typical bullying – no physical violence, no complete isolation – but girls asked if she had crushes on them, and boys asked invasive questions about her non-existent sex life. The boiling point came when a girl in her class repeatedly called her a slur during a group project at Rogers' house. 'No-one stood up for me,' she recalls. 'I just wanted to be 'normal'.'
Learning to hide – then to embrace
A boy in her drama lesson told her he was surprised he got on with her so well, saying that even though she was gay, she was 'sound' because she didn't make it her whole personality. So she took on the role of the 'normal gay' – wearing slinky dresses from online stores like Oh Polly or Pretty Little Thing, wearing more makeup, and excusing homophobic remarks by saying: 'Don't worry about it! Some gay people are so sensitive nowadays.'
At Bristol University, she was invited to an LGBTQ+ society event at a freshers' fair but bolted when she saw rainbow flags. 'I was excited for university because I thought it was a chance to make more LGBTQ+ friends but my own judgement was isolating me,' she writes.
The change came when she read Leslie Feinberg's Stone Butch Blues, a semi-autobiographical story of the lesbian community in the USA from the 1950s to the 1980s. The book featured lesbians who had no choice but to be out and proud, and Feinberg discussed how division in the LGBT+ community only allows oppression to get worse.
Stronger together
Rogers realised she owed it to the generations who fought for her freedom not to judge people in her own community – and that her judgement was really secret envy. 'Being a 'weird gay' doesn't actually exist,' she concluded.
Now, aged 22 and back in Manchester, she attends explicitly lesbian events, from club nights to activism groups, and describes the community as some of the kindest people she has ever met. She no longer dresses femininely for others, has no desire to seem 'sound' to men, and will rant about lesbian politics and history to anyone who will listen.
'I am not proud of how I used to think, but it is so important to remember that period in my life in order to continue growing from it,' she writes. 'Now, I wish I could go back to that moment in the bar. I would be excited to meet fellow members of my community, with their vibrant hair and rainbow pins. I could have met some pretty amazing people.'
