People always ask; when did you know? They tend to assume when you 'come out' in your early twenties that you spent the rest of your life up until that point, blissfully unaware of your sexuality. They tend to think, just because you appeared to be straight your entire teenage life and quite successfully so, with a string of long-term relationships with the opposite sex, that you simply woke up one morning and thought; hey, maybe I like girls now?! And to some extent, they might be right. But I think it was maybe a bit deeper than that. Maybe not. Because I probably did wake up one day and thought about it, but it was more of a wake-up, rub-my-eyes moment to think; hey, maybe I've liked girls all along.

Sex with women is different. Softer. Even when it's not soft at all. More intimate. Even when it's with a stranger. More respectful. More honest. For so long, I gaslit myself with what I was taught lesbians looked like. Kissed like. Fucked like. Told myself what I was feeling couldn't be gay because it didn't feel or look like that. Finding myself in my own queer sex experiences in my now mid-twenties is joyous and affirming. Though it may take unlearning from a lifetime of being taught to look and feel other ways, it feels like a real opportunity to have agency and authorship over my own sexual script.

So in answer to the question; when did I know? It was most likely the first time I witnessed two girls in love. Two girls just existing together like we see everywhere with straight relationships. I realised how much my heart had ached for that. There's a reason I sob whenever girls kiss on TV, and you can tell it's for them, not for whoever happens to be watching. Genuine queer representation matters, and that goes for queer joy as well as trauma.

Eliza x the anti-casting 

All the womxn featured on the underargument have been selected based on the personal story they shared with us which was inspired by one of our collections' themes. We only receive stories, no photos and no measurements. This is what we call the anti-casting and it is our way of reclaiming the representation of women's diversity and utilising the power of storytelling to empower ourselves and others. Find out more and maybe submit your story too here. 

Eliza is wearing collection no.15 For play // Against performances.