There seems to be an almost complete lack of resources for Sikhs that have come to discover they are gay. The entire Sikh community, it seems refuses to acknowledge the possibility that a person that has been brought up with Sikh values could possibly be gay. There is also an incredible amount of ignorance. This is not only due to a lack of understanding, but a great not wanting to understand. It is this that causes the most hurt and despondency when an individual brought up in a Sikh family realises they are gay. They feel, more than ever that they are alone. I felt, more than ever that I was alone. Homosexuality is not mentioned at all in Sikhism. I'll admit that I'm neither well versed nor well read on Sikh teachings etc., but I know enough to know that alternative lifestyles are not accepted. My parents have never put forward their views. I think it is this total denial of the existence of homosexuality that allowed me to repress my true feelings during my school years.

A university, I had some freedom. I didn't go mad on nights out, alcohol, guys and drugs as my parents feared I would. I stayed in and conscientiously read my books. I had headspace. I had space to figure out who I was. My friends were out having enjoying themselves. But I couldn't enjoy myself. Not once I'd realised I was gay. I spent so much effort in trying to make my feelings go away. I didn't know where they were coming from. I didn't want to talk to anyone, fearing that if I spoke about it, it would become truer. I decided that I would never speak about it. But this was all I could think about because I was trying so hard not to accept. When I was around my friends, I wasn't very good company, always on the verge of tears, always in a bad mood. I stayed in my room. I became the most recluse person in my circle of friends. Fortunately, a friend asked me what was wrong. I wouldn't talk at first. There was no way I would/could verbalise my thoughts. He figured I had a crush on someone. I admitted I did.

He then asked me the gender of this person. His question threw me. I didn't expect him to ask. Startled, I answered the truth before I allowed my self to think. It was another girl. He asked me if I was a lesbian. I answered no, but there was a huge amount of uncertainty in my voice. I thought that if I was gay, surely I always would have known about it. But perhaps I already did. He himself is gay. He asked me a lot of questions that evening. I didn't answer any, for fear of the answers. At the time, I must have come across as though I wished he would stop speaking. But I am glad he was there. He gave more constructive things to think about. I still spent months trying to repress my attraction to other girls. Mostly by staying away from them. Depression ensued. I don't mean depression as in down in the dumps for a few weeks, perhaps a bit ratty. I mean real depression. The type that can take you over the edge. But I was in a state of depression where I could do nothing, constructive, or destructive. I'm glad I had friends to get me through. One in particular was always there for me. She would call for me for breakfast. If she didn't I think I wouldn't have made it out of bed on those days. I really thought that by staying in my room, nobody would notice my absence. My friend recently told me that she was waiting for me to talk to her. She thought that the way out of depression is by reaching out for help. But if you're depressed, you believe there is nothing that can make you feel good again, so what is the use of help.

It was almost a year from the moment I started to think I could be gay to actually verbalising it. That was only possible with the help of counselling, and a university support group. So I came through my depression with the support of understanding people. I learned to be comfortable being myself and confident among others. But I still had many questions. I did not know what Sikhism had to say about homosexuality. I figured that there would be something condemning about it as it does not fit in with the role of the traditional householder which is so advocated. I really didn't know where to turn. I joined the university Sikh society in the hope that I would learn something that would either rid me of my feelings or provide me with some answers. But no. I only felt more and more guilty as time passed.

After months of counselling, I began to accept that there was no resolution. I couldn't and wouldn't renounce my faith. But I wouldn't be able to handle repressing who I am any longer. Since coming out at university, I have felt so alive, so real for the first time in my life. But I know that I can't come out to my parents. I'd be far too afraid of their response.

I decided I needed to stop my relentless worrying, otherwise I could never relax. I feel most comfortable with the LGB crowd, if only because they are the most accepting group of people I know. They take you for who you are. I have met so many different people through their company, a great diversity of personalities.

Recently, I have discovered some discussions online on homosexuality in Sikhism. Much of the views condemning homosexuality are quite ignorant. It seems many people that homosexuality can be spread. If that was true, where did I catch it? TAKE IT BACK! I don't need this, it's only going to continue to make me miserable in this time. It apparently, falls under the sin of Kaam (lust) and blatantly against man-woman marriage. So, my question is, if I never act upon my attraction to other women, if I agree to an arranged marriage, as is expected of me and take up the role of householder, what will it mean? Does it suddenly mean that I'm straight? I don't think so. I will be living a life of duality. I'll be married to a man, knowing that I'd rather that my life partner was female. I'd never be fulfilled and I don't just mean fulfilment of the sexual variety, I'm meaning emotional fulfilment.

Two people that can have a bond that is so strong, because they understand each other, their mutual respect and support is quite a beautiful thing. This can present irrespective of the sex of the two individuals. Many people say that same-sex relationships are disgusting. I suppose I can try to understand that. Those people can't imagine themselves with a partner of the same-sex, and the image is quite abhorrent to them. I can't imagine myself with a partner of the opposite sex, and the idea is quite horrible to me. But I don't think of other people's heterosexual relationships as disgusting. So obviously there's more to it than that. Are gay people perceived as a threat? That's a view I'll admit I don't fully understand. It's just another example of two loving people in a committed relationship. Love is definitely and undeniably different to lust.

When I first became aware that I felt differently towards other girls (I mean before I was able to put a label upon my feelings, say at the age of 11 or so,), I had no idea what they could mean. I had no idea that as I grew older, my feelings would grow stronger. I had no idea that there were others that felt as I did. If I did, then perhaps I might have been spared the personal pain and misery I went through in the realisation that I'm gay. If I knew that's what my feelings meant, and there were plenty of other lesbians, I might have gone through my adolescence with a greater self-esteem. If I had found out earlier that there were other Sikh gays, I might have saved myself so much worry. There needs to be more support groups for people such as myself. There needs to be a greater sense of community among gay Sikhs too. I say that from having come across on groups for gay Sikhs where most of the messages were like adverts for pretend spouses. Is this really the way forward? Live in secret? Surely there needs to be greater visibility. More people out there to lend support to Sikhs (or any religious group for that matter) that discover they are gay. There seems to be only one or two positive movements online that are helpful for the gay Sikh. I'm sure that there are many others out there, like myself, that are in the same position as me, that wants someone to talk to, so that they know they are not alone, someone that's going to listen to them, share their story etc.

I know in myself that I can't live my life a lie, and that if there was a straight-pill, I'd take it in a flash. If I go with tradition, I'm going to miserable, I'll be giving up any chance of knowing what it's like to be loved by another woman. If I go against tradition, I'm sure that all that opposes me will do their best to make me miserable. I can only choose one path. Does someone have an answer?