Mmhm…A friend responded to a group invitation but the message in my inbox had very little to do with the gathering and more to do with someone on the list. I was privileged to read how she recalled the very beautiful encounter of her first crush. I’m smiling now just thinking about it.
So I put the wheels in motion and asked a few peeps to share their first girl crush stories. The response was amazing! It was awesome to see how everyone had to go back in time. Files flipping behind their eyelids, finding the emotions that resonate with that time. I thank everyone who took part. I hope you all had fun with this. I see you as role models for queer youth today because I know they do not experience first crushes the way you did. And it’s the month of love so I still get to post this 
Naz | firefighter
I was sixteen, going on 17….First Casual job, the first of many firsts! So there I was, in between teen and adulthood. Discovering who I was and on the road to who I was going to be. The ME that you SEE.
We worked together, this woman and I and from the minute I saw her, I knew, I knew she was like me, A Lesbian. There, I said it out loud. I saw in her a sense of belonging, a familiarity…I liked her, I liked her……..Excitement, Fear, Paranoid, Shame and the Butterflies! Oh! The Butterflies. The funny thing about Butterflies, is the Universal Familiarity. Always found that so amazing. Days, weeks went by and I slowly built up the courage to tell her, I felt the strongest urge to let out what I was feeling and my insides told me, she would GET IT! She would get, GET ME! So the plan was, to call her from a “Tiekie Box” It was NOT a public phone, it was a ‘Tiekie Box”! And those in the know, will know what I mean. The fear of being Caught Out at home, made my stomach churn. So “Tiekie Box” it was. Off I went, journey up the road to my fate. I was a salad of emotions!! What if someone saw me? What if someone saw the look on my face and just knew…A head filled with What ifs? I would not let my overwhelming nerves get the better of me, I WAS going to do this. My shiny 50cent coins, wet in my sweaty hands. So I dialled the number, still time to hang up, turn around and leave…The click as the phone got answered and Hello of the person on the other end, soon sent that plan to hell. I ask to speak to her and it felt like eternity before she came to the phone. Still time to turn back? Hang up? They don’t know its me! Or do they? Finally her voice on the other end of the line, there’s those Butterflies again. Oh! The Butterflies! So, I revealed who I was and how I felt and in very few words made clear how I felt and asking her to Please Please NOT tell anyone. This was a big step for me and dealing with other people KNOWING, was just going to be too much for me. She said she was flattered, my heart skipped a beat! Really! Wow! Butterflies again. Its amazing how Butterflies can replace fear at the drop of a hat. Walking away from that call, grinning from ear to ear, Charlie Chaplin kick in the air. You know the one I am talking about and Yes, I really did it! Feeling Victorious, Free, Liberated, ME! The day after at work, playing it cool, I went about my day, with alot more enthusiasm than usual. I couldn’t wait to see her, it felt like forever till I did. I saw her in the coming toward me, with a friend and my heart started racing. Butterflies! Looking at each other, knowing what we know. Our Secret. We shared something. As she passed me by, she playfully tugged at my jacket making my knees feel like jelly, a stirring in my loins. What was THAT? An unfamiliar feeling, but it was good. Much to my disappointment, I discovered later that evening, that she had revealed our little secret to a fellow colleague who felt the need to interrogate me. The feeling was ruined, the moment was ruined. I took the cowardly way out and denied, denied, denied. I felt like a hypocrite to my true self. How could she do this? I was covered by a cloud of disappointment and regret. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have made that call. I felt bad that I had been so dishonest. Did I have any other choice? Even though she did was she did, I still couldn’t stay away from her, so one Sunday she calls me. She CALLED ME! She wanted to know what I was doing, she invited me out. This was an opportunity I couldn’t miss out on..So I lied, I had to, I needed to see her. She met me 2 blocks from my work and off we went. Destination, her apartment she shared with her partner, who was conveniently out of town. Lucky Me. Hello Nerves! At the apartment we headed straight to her bedroom, she kissed me. Butterflies. It was at this point that I knew, a confirmation I guess, of my sexuality. I was in fact a Lesbian. I was very naive and with my limited or shall I say lack of experience, kept it on the safe side! I guess it was also the fear of not knowing what to do, that kept me in my semi clothed corner! This experience and being there, installed a bravery in me, that made me quite dominant in the bedroom, despite my lack of experience. It was fun, we chatted after our little rendezvous which was new to me. It felt good. A connection was made. On our way home, I requested she drop me in the neighbouring suburb, as I was fearful of being seen with her. I had a grin on my face that easily lasted at least a week. Nothing and no one could spoil the mood I was in, I was on a high.
Jeanine | tv journalist
My parents used to think I really loved tennis. They were wrong. I was nuts for Steffi Graf. Without me entirely realising how it happened, I became completely infatuated with this leggy seven-time Wimbledon champion. Like all parents, mine wanted me to have that perfect balance between school and sports. And by balance I of course mean bringing home the class spelling bee title, as well as making the school tennis team. And so it was that my parents carted me off to lessons week in and week out. But even better than that, they allowed me to cut my hair, so it didn’t fall into my face as I was smashing home a no-doubt match-breaking winner. Watching tennis tournaments became a fixture in our home. Dad would shout out tips on how to effectively use top-spin, and my mum would nervously pick at her nails, quietly wishing for an all-German final of Steffi and Boris. As far as I’m concerned, my parents practically encouraged my first lesbian crush… It all started off innocently enough. A few posters on my wall of Steffi hammering the ball across the net, Steffi serving, Steffi volleying…then a picture collage of Steffi just hanging out in her day wear, Steffi in Jeans, Steffi wearing a lime green mini, to Steffi modelling some of her very own casual wear range (I can see now that Steffi was better at tennis than fashion design). The sheer look of unrestrained happiness my mum and dad had as they entered my almost adolescent room: No boys, no scary 80’s bands with indefinable genders, just Steffi Graf, wall to wall. Then something began to change in the way I admired Steffi… Just vegging out on my bed, my eyes would begin at her strong, yet somehow delicate ankles and work their way up past her bulging calves and end on her strapping thighs. Yes, something had definitely changed. I no longer thought she simply looked sporty in the white v-neck she donned in the poster in the far left corner, no; I wished it was tighter, much, much tighter. I fantasized about all things Steffi for hours on end. What I would say when we met, what it would be like to be in the women’s double final at Wimbledon, but mostly, I just thought about her body. Her strong, tanned, silky-smooth body. Of course real life was happening at the same time, and as I was getting zits, and angrier at my parents, came the onset of girls-only slumber parties. And it’s here that my first real-life crush happened. All four of my best female friends lying on the carpet in Kim’s lounge. Kim was making up some story about how guys sometimes stroke their penises and then they change shape (yah right, Kim, like that’s a true story, whatever!), my other friend Lindi placed her head on my chest. I didn’t realise heads were so heavy, and then my only thought was ‘don’t move a muscle, don’t breathe’. I wanted Lindi to never ever move her head from my chest again.
Lindy | full-time post-grad student
Pic by Stephanie Correa
I like women. Looking back on my life, I think I always have. It should have been evident when my first on-screen crush was on Jaye Davidson (you may remember him from the Stargate Movie, as Ra; or from his portrayal of Dil in The Crying Game). But I digress, this is the story of my first crush. When I was 12 years old I had a friend called Amy[*], who was two years my senior. Many who know me now might not believe that I spent most of my formative years at an Afrikaans Church – but this is where I met Amy. For years we were close, but it was when I was 12 years old that everything changed. Embarrassingly, this was the year I was playing the villain in a church play (I think it was the tuxedo I got to wear that sold me on the idea). One afternoon Amy confessed to me that she had taken a liking to a boy her age who was also taking part in the play, let’s call him Ashley[†] . Ashley and I were on friendly terms as we had grown up in the same neighbourhood, and had played together when we were children. Amy then asked my help to try to establish whether or not Ashley might be interested in her. A few days later I spent some time talking Amy up to Ashley in order to convey to him that Amy was interested in him. As time passed Amy and Ashley grew closer. I didn’t understand why this unsettled me so much. I became increasingly jealous, but at the time I didn’t know who of. Once the play was over I stopped talking to both Amy and Ashley. I could tell that Amy didn’t understand why I was retreating from her – but I didn’t understand the situation or my feelings either. In the months that followed, I came to realise that I was attracted to Amy. I didn’t know what a lesbian was at that time, but I knew that I liked this girl. I thought that she was beautiful in a way that transcended the platonic. I realised that when she was near me my heart would race, and even though I had stopped talking to her, when she shot me a quizzical glance I would feel flushed and nervous. Many might think that 12 years old is too young to have a crush – but looking back, Amy opened my eyes to the fact that I was attracted to women. In the years that followed I had never felt that same type of attraction towards a boy or a man. I’m 24 years old now and I realise that almost every woman I’ve been attracted to in some way bears a resemblance to Amy (even if it is just a little bit). Though she may not remember me she will forever play a part in my self-illumination. [*] Not her real name [†]Not his real name.
Lungile |
I have always thought I needed some sort of straight talk no nonsense psychology when I was younger. Well psychology and prayer being the two things my family believed helped an individual and I believed it too.
Prayer failed me at age ten, when I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl who sat next to me in class. She was a year older. Having started school early, my classmates were a year or two years older than me. She was beautiful and had developed small breasts. One wouldn’t see them unless she showed you in the bathroom. And I was ‘blessed’ to be granted such an opportunity…Haha sounding like a perv’ but they excited me, they were beautiful. I appreciated what she had…And everyday in my own silence the praying never stop. I wanted the feeling to go away, I didn’t wanna scare her away. A year and a half went by and the thought of her still lingered. As a girl one would say they were confused, I wasn’t confused at all. I knew what I wanted but how I would get it was a mystery and how she would react was my fear. Two months before the year ended I acted on my feelings, I was moving to a different town, I didn’t think we would meet again. And… I kissed her… My two year beautiful crush. We never got to see each other again. It’s been more than a decade. I have grown and moved on, the years went by but she still remains my first real crush:)
Alison | university lecturer
I don’t think I knew I had a crush on her until long after we had shared what became my first kiss with a woman. We were fourteen, and had already been best friends for years. She was magnetic- smart, beautiful and a little reckless. I wanted to be near her as much as I could be. We would spend every minute of our weekends together, staying up all night giggling and taking ourselves too seriously, walking in the park smoking (my first) cigarettes or hanging out with other friends whose parents were not around as much as ours were. We would write to each other during class, using the coloured pens in our pencil cases to encode our little notes with secret friendship symbols. The night we kissed was far less romantic than I would have hoped. We were at a party at a friend’s house, both drunk (her more so than I), and sitting around the side of the house, above the sprawling lawn and crowd of drunken teens. Someone dared us to kiss in exchange for a bottle of cheap wine. I didn’t fully recognize my excitement then, but in hindsight, I was ecstatic to be dared to kiss her… Now, more than 10 years later, she is still one of my closest friends. And I think I will always have a crush on the person she is in the world.
Pam | content reporter
My first crush was Wendy Isaacs from POWA (People Opposing Women Abuse)…I’ve never met her face to face but everytime I see her on TV I still feel my heart skipping a beat. She is hot, sexy and her lips are to die for…don’t get me started on her fingaz *bbm cant watch* LOL But overall I don’t think I can date her given the chance, I just love the fact that I can’t have her and that’s what turns me on about her
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