March is Bisexual Health Awareness Month. This article was originally posted on the Bisexual Resource Center's Tumblr page. Check it out!
In my relatively short tenure as an 'out' bisexual, I've received a myriad of responses to the revelation of my sexuality. I've been laughed at by a group of gay friends, who thought I was joking around to fit in with them. I've been asked if this meant I was dating multiple people, or if it meant that I was planning on leaving my boyfriend of four years for a woman (despite the fact that there are also approximately three billion men in the world who I’m currently not dating). I've also been met with boundless welcoming from places I’d never even have imagined.
The hard part about being bisexual is how easy it is to question your own identity. How easy it is to think "Well, I'm not dating/in a monogamous relationship/really so into this girl, maybe I've just picked a team. Maybe it doesn't matter." I've doubted myself, countless times, having spent so long dating only men. The hard part about being bisexual is feeling like you're stuck in between, with one foot planted on either side of the rainbow.
The best part about being bisexual is allowing yourself to love (and be loved) as much as, and in whatever ways, you desire.
I came out to myself before I knew it. Sometime in elementary school, I learned what it meant to be in a relationship with the same sex. My immediate reaction was confusion - I hadn't even realized this was an option. If girls could be with guys, and girls could be with girls, how were you supposed to know which one to pick? As I grew older and began to stumble my way through the minefields of sexual attraction, I found myself equally distracted by a variety of genders. This did not solve my confusion.
The first time I used the word "bisexual" to describe myself to another person was over a decade later, around 2008. I was writing an email to a friend who was, at the time, serving in the Peace Corps. Somewhere within the various life updates, I dropped in the tidbit. I sent my confession into the void, knowing it would be at least another two weeks before it would reach human eyes. Somehow, just the fact that this information would be known to someone besides myself made everything feel a tiny bit lighter. My friend replied a few weeks later - supportive, if not confused at the seeming suddenness of my news. Since then, my coming-out has snowballed from a few scattered admissions to where I am now. This past summer, I took what felt like the biggest leap imaginable and posted my news (in poem form) to a limited audience on Facebook. I went to sleep feeling like my heart was going to explode from my chest, and woke up to so much support that I almost cried.
A good friend of mine once described the process of coming out as bisexual as "installing a revolving door on your closet". He’s right, in many ways. We keep coming out, regardless of who we're with - sometimes to the same people over and over again. However, with each rotation of this door, the hinge greases itself very slightly. With each turn, it gets a little smoother, a little easier. Sometimes, the door jams. It’s inevitable; technology is not infallible. Sometimes it feels like it would be easier just to lock the doors and close up shop. After all, it’s a rather nice closet, really. And it's even large enough for two - you could just as easily be in a relationship without divulging this piece of yourself, right? But eventually, the craving for fresh air sets in, and the grass outside is so green and soft.
Above all, being yourself should never come at the cost of your own safety or happiness. I, personally, am incredibly lucky to have built the wonderful community that I have. Coming out is an intensely personal journey, but it is one that shouldn't have to be faced alone. The most important parts of your coming out story are you, your mental health, and your happiness. Never be afraid to reach out to whatever resources will make your journey the safest it can be.
It's taken a lot of work to get to where I am today. But, in a strange way, it's been the easiest thing in the world. Because every time I come out, I feel freer to just be myself. The more my bisexuality is just a matter of who I am, the less anyone who knows me can say "I don’t know any bisexual people". The more out I am, the more I can help grease the closet doors of others who might need it.
My name is Gabrielle. I have curly hair, I'm left-handed, and I'm bisexual. Each of these characteristics defines me as much (or as little) as the others. I could fairly easily hide any one of them. But, really, why would I want to?
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