ANONYMOUS- My tale is not one as heart-warming and inspirational as many of the coming out stories I’m sure you’ve heard, but rather a very simple one. As a lover of romance, I used to fall for people at the drop of a hat. Even as a child, I had crushes on a variety of people, from students in my class to family friends to cartoon characters (don’t judge me, you know you thought Danny Phantom was a babe too). Some of these childhood crushes included women, but I assumed my admiration for them was just because I wanted to be them rather than be with them. Growing up in an HoC (Household of Color), my otherwise liberal parents never mentioned relationships, sex, or sexuality. I didn’t find out what “gay” was until fifth grade, when a classmate told me it was when a man marries another man, and I didn’t know there was a “female version” of it until much later. Over time, these crude definitions were refined for me, thanks to the good old world wide web, and I learned about all of the different genders and sexualities. However, because of this lack of knowledge until later in my life, I didn’t even know liking girls romantically was possible until I was in middle school. As a cisgender female with male love interests throughout high school, it was easy to forget about the sapphic part of my sexuality. Because I only fell for boys, I continued assuming I was straight without giving any thought to whether or not I actually was. Within my very close circle of friends, we’d talk about being gay in a joking-but-not-completely kind of way, and over time I warmed up to the idea of potentially dating both boys and girls. I felt more comfortable making jokes and references to my sexuality, and finally adopted the bisexual label and told my close friends about my newly discovered identity. Calling myself bi feels comfortable and just plain right, but despite finding a label that fits me, I still struggle with feeling bisexual enough. While some bisexuals may not have a preference, I lean strongly towards liking boys, which sometimes makes me feel like I don’t like girls enough to count myself as part of the LGBT+ community. Regularly, I have to stop and remind myself that any amount of attraction towards women is enough for me to be not-straight and I don’t have to justify or prove my bisexuality to anyone.
The problem with being bisexual is that people don’t always understand how you can be attracted to more than one gender, which can lead to a lot of dangerous biphobia. Although one might expect gay and lesbian people to be very accepting since they are also targeted for their sexuality, they are often perpetrators of biphobia. Many people are apprehensive about dating bisexuals due to false stereotypes and rumors that make them paranoid that bi people will leave them for someone of another gender. The lack of bi representation in media contributes to the negative connotations associated with bisexuality. On the rare occasion that there is a character who likes men and women, they’re either a promiscuous cheater, going through a phase, or “just don’t like labels.” Even Glee, the show that tried to be progressive in every possible way, featured biphobic dialogue on multiple occasions towards both a gay boy and a bi girl. The stigma coming from all directions can be awfully isolating. It’s already hard enough to come to terms with who you are; it makes it even more difficult when everyone, including people who are usually progressive, is telling you that you’re being greedy or that your sexuality isn’t real.
A lot of people think that discovering your sexuality always follows the same three steps: 1) confusing feelings about the same gender, followed by 2) realization of lack of heterosexuality, and then 3) coming out of the closet in a grand, emotional gesture and/or Instagram post. It’s a road with a clear start and finish, with the end goal being coming out to everyone. This very personal journey of self-discovery is expected to end in a big revelation for others to see and comment on, but what people - especially liberals who are surrounded by like-minded, accepting people - fail to take into account is that coming out is not necessarily the safest option for many LGBT+ individuals, especially young people financially dependent on their less tolerant parents or those living in rural/conservative areas where coming out may put them at risk of physical or emotional abuse. Even if they’re in a safe environment but still don’t feel comfortable coming out, that’s absolutely okay as well. Personally, although I know many of my friends and family members would be accepting if they knew about my sexuality, I’ve chosen to only tell a few friends who I’ve known for many years. I withhold this part of my identity from them not to avoid persecution, but to maintain a sense of privacy regarding my personal life. I’ve seen people become offended upon finding out that their gay friend didn’t tell them they were gay and it’s entirely possible that once I do come out to more people they’ll be hurt I didn’t tell them earlier, but I find that completely unfair. Sexuality is a personal thing, and no one should feel obligated to share details about themselves.
If you came out this National Coming Out Day, I’m so proud and excited on your behalf. I know how terrifying and exhilarating it can be to share that part of you with someone new, and I hope you are loved and accepted by everyone you decide to tell. If you’re thinking about telling people about your sexuality or aren’t sure if you want to take such a big step just yet - or ever - that’s perfectly fine, too. You don’t owe anyone anything. Whether you decide to tell others or not, it’s entirely up to you. If you have questions or need help, here is a list of resources you can reach out to.
illustration credit: shoujesus
The problem with being bisexual is that people don’t always understand how you can be attracted to more than one gender, which can lead to a lot of dangerous biphobia. Although one might expect gay and lesbian people to be very accepting since they are also targeted for their sexuality, they are often perpetrators of biphobia. Many people are apprehensive about dating bisexuals due to false stereotypes and rumors that make them paranoid that bi people will leave them for someone of another gender. The lack of bi representation in media contributes to the negative connotations associated with bisexuality. On the rare occasion that there is a character who likes men and women, they’re either a promiscuous cheater, going through a phase, or “just don’t like labels.” Even Glee, the show that tried to be progressive in every possible way, featured biphobic dialogue on multiple occasions towards both a gay boy and a bi girl. The stigma coming from all directions can be awfully isolating. It’s already hard enough to come to terms with who you are; it makes it even more difficult when everyone, including people who are usually progressive, is telling you that you’re being greedy or that your sexuality isn’t real.
A lot of people think that discovering your sexuality always follows the same three steps: 1) confusing feelings about the same gender, followed by 2) realization of lack of heterosexuality, and then 3) coming out of the closet in a grand, emotional gesture and/or Instagram post. It’s a road with a clear start and finish, with the end goal being coming out to everyone. This very personal journey of self-discovery is expected to end in a big revelation for others to see and comment on, but what people - especially liberals who are surrounded by like-minded, accepting people - fail to take into account is that coming out is not necessarily the safest option for many LGBT+ individuals, especially young people financially dependent on their less tolerant parents or those living in rural/conservative areas where coming out may put them at risk of physical or emotional abuse. Even if they’re in a safe environment but still don’t feel comfortable coming out, that’s absolutely okay as well. Personally, although I know many of my friends and family members would be accepting if they knew about my sexuality, I’ve chosen to only tell a few friends who I’ve known for many years. I withhold this part of my identity from them not to avoid persecution, but to maintain a sense of privacy regarding my personal life. I’ve seen people become offended upon finding out that their gay friend didn’t tell them they were gay and it’s entirely possible that once I do come out to more people they’ll be hurt I didn’t tell them earlier, but I find that completely unfair. Sexuality is a personal thing, and no one should feel obligated to share details about themselves.
If you came out this National Coming Out Day, I’m so proud and excited on your behalf. I know how terrifying and exhilarating it can be to share that part of you with someone new, and I hope you are loved and accepted by everyone you decide to tell. If you’re thinking about telling people about your sexuality or aren’t sure if you want to take such a big step just yet - or ever - that’s perfectly fine, too. You don’t owe anyone anything. Whether you decide to tell others or not, it’s entirely up to you. If you have questions or need help, here is a list of resources you can reach out to.
illustration credit: shoujesus
