On 17 May 1990, the General Assembly of the World Health Organization (WHO) removed homosexuality from their list of mental disorders. This action served to end more than a century of medical homophobia; but whilst it has been taken off the mental disorder list, stigma and prejudice must still be removed from some people’s minds. Through a series of pictures this project explores the daily life of Laura and Morgane. It explores without shame the passionate, true and heartfelt love those two young women are sharing. Their story may not be the same as yours, but the concept of true love remains the same with everybody, no matter the sexuality. Here is the story of my journey into love.
Le 17 mai 1990 l’Organisation mondiale de la Santé (OMS) retirait l’homosexualité de leur liste des maladies mentales. Cette action a mis fin à plus d’un siècle d’homophobie médicale. Cependant même cela a été retiré des la liste des maladies mentales, stigmas et préjugés doivent toujours être retirés de certain esprit. A travers une série de photos ce projet explore la vie quotidienne de Laura et Morgane. Il explore sans pudeur l’amour passionné que ces deux jeunes femmes partagent. Leur histoire n’est peut-être pas la même que la votre, mais le concept de l’amour véritable demeure le même pour tous, qu’importe l’orientatoin sexuelle. Voici le récit de mon voyage à travers l’amour.
Love is too beautiful to be hidden in a closet.
I always thought I was straight, then I started falling for her.
I wanted to be the friend she would take into her arms and into the private world she kept trapped in her head. I wanted to be that kind of friend. The one who will memorize the things she said as well as the shape of her lips when she said them. I wanted to know every freckle, every shiver, every curve of her body. I wanted to know where to touch her, I wanted to know how to touch her. I wanted to know how to convince her to design a smile just for me. Yes, I wanted to be her friend. The best friend in the entire world. The friend she would fall hopelessly in love with.
I wanted to be the reason why she would get up in the morning and smile.
I wanted to be the girl she would take long strolls in the park with on a warm summer day.
Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life; Love shouldn’t be one of them.
I wanted to watch movies with her, and go on car rides, sing really loud and camp by railroad tracks and kiss her at 3am.
It’s been occuring to me I’d like to hang out with her for my whole life.
That electrifyin feeling I get every time I kiss her.
And now I think I can’t live without her.
When she says I look beautiful. She says it in a whisper.
How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I known her before, I have loved her before -in another time, a different place -some other existence.
We were like strangers who knew each other very well.
I am lesbian, and I am not seeking to be ‘tolerated’. One tolerates a toothache, rush-hour traffic, and annoying neighbor. I am not a negative to be tolerated.
I mean, sure, she’d always been cute, but she was starting to become seriously beautiful.
I still remember the feeling I felt when I first started talking to her, three years ago. Most clearly I remembered her eyes, with a kind of teasing smile in them, and the cute little mole she has on her left hand. And her necklace. Then it (and she) became mine.
I don’t care if she hates her teeth or the way her voice sounds. I don’t care if she hates her hair, and her smile. I will love her, and I will take care of her, I will kiss her and make love to her, I will tell her she is pretty and I will make her feel it.
No, I have not been hurt by a guy. I am not confused. It’s not just a phase. I don’t hate men. I simply want to marry a girl, this girl.
I don’t know what people are scared of… Maybe they think their children will be influenced by ‘gay marriage’, but I’ve got to tell them, I was raised by two heterosexuals, and they did not influence me.
She didn’t say ‘I love you’ like a normal person. Instead, she laughed, shaked her head, gave me a little smile and said ‘You’re funny’.
Holding her hand in public is another way of saying I’m proud to be with her.
I sneaked into a train and ride five, six, eleven hours to see her beautiful face. Banged on her door, until she woke up shitty but happy to see me. I was broke for two months and tired for a week but I got her.
We stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But it was the kind of nothing that meant everything.
Fuck butterflies! I feel the whole zoo when I’m with her.
2013 © Tiffany Roubert