I moved to the country because of my health. I did not realize I was moving to the only Gulf Island with no other out Gay people on it. Having come from the Commercial Drive area in Vancouver (where Lesbian Visibility and community integration are high) the culture shock was enormous to me. I didn't know whether to feel safe or not. I didn't know who I could come out to. As I got the feel of the place, I gradually came out to a selected number of people- mostly ex-Vancouverites with a leftie or alternative perspective. What I soon discovered was that there was no answering echo of "me too", not even from the two women who had been identified as lesbians by an urban acquaintance.

I met one woman I considered a "probable," who has been flirting, consciously or not, with me for three years. Yet when I finally came out to her, she didn't speak to me for ten days, and now pretends I never said it. She did, however, tell me that she preferred to socialize (i.e. Date) off island, to maintain her privacy. I have neither the money nor the energy to pursue this option, due to my disability and resultant income.

A friend sometimes mails me copies of the gay papers - if she remembers. And the odd weekend I am able to get away to Vancouver is not enough to make up for the social isolation I feel here. My friends here just don't get it - why "it" is a social and political issue as well as a personal preference - or why I feel a need to talk about that part of who I am. I don't much, anymore. The last time I tried, I got so discouraged. I was at a small "Women's Spirituality Evening" someone had organized (a rare thing here, any type of women's anything), and every time I mentioned "it," how my sexuality and spirituality informed one another, I was met with silence, stares, a gap in the discussion. There were educated, intelligent women - and yet it wasn't safe for them to even talk about it. I have one friend here, a straight man, who has been a lifesaver. He has lived communally with lesbians and gays, and now has two gay brothers, and he's the only one who doesn't go blank or turn away. He even initiates conversations, and tells me lesbian gossip.

I'm scared of the "yahoo boys," the young rednecks here who get drunk and roar around in their 4x4's. Who's to say if they might not decide to come up to my cabin in the woods one night to teach me a lesson? I have no idea how realistic this fear is, but I have a dog and a lead pipe at the door, and I am the only person I know (including single women) who locks her doors at night. If anything happened there's always the cop, who only lives an island away, and who, in response to a recent suicide here by someone who was being maliciously outed, was quoted as saying, "Oh, you know these fags and their love triangles."

Yes, I could always call him.

One time when I was in town last year, I bought a small button that has the word OUT on it, printed inside a small pink triangle. I put it on my coat and resolved to wear it all the time. I wondered if anyone would even know what it meant. But on the ferry home, I took it off. It's now pinned to the corner of my bulletin board in the kitchen.

That's as brave as I am able to be.