At MBLGTACC this year, I bought a double venus necklace. I had seen them before, somewhere, although where exactly escapes my mind at the moment. I just knew I wanted one of my own.
The double venus, comprised of two interlocking female astrological symbols, has historically been used to indicate lesbianism. I love the way the symbol looks and wanted a subtle way of expressing my identity – one that’s not immediately apparent so that I can remain closeted in unsafe situations, but that lets those “in the know” see me for who I truly am.
I’ve worn that necklace every single day since February 18th, 2017. I don’t plan to take it off any time soon.
The process of accepting myself and loving my identity has been and will continue to be a long one. I’ve made so much progress this year, though, from surrounding myself with IRL community to trying to consume as much happy LGBTQ+ media as possible.
Part of that journey has also involved wearing my necklace. Every day, I see it and am reminded of this part of my life that I am growing to appreciate so much. Some people wear a symbol of their faith on a necklace. Others, a wedding ring or a photo of a loved one inside a locket.
Me, I have this gay necklace.
Maybe I sound ridiculous talking about my necklace like this. After all, it is a tiny thing. Didn’t cost very much, either. There are tiny nicks and scratches on it already from getting caught on or tangled up in things.
But it reminds me who I am. Over the past few years, but within the last year or so in particular, I’ve been working to normalize my own identity within my own mind. To not be ashamed of my love for other women. To envision F/F couples as the default image of a happy couple, not the exception.
(M/M couples, too. For obvious reasons, though, I am drawn more toward the other when looking for healthy models for my life and future relationships.)
I love this necklace. I love how such a small thing has made such a big difference when it comes to me accepting myself, my whole self. I love the look of recognition in someone’s eyes, and the conversations that follow, especially when that person is younger than me and may be searching for reassurance that who they are is OK, that how they love is OK.