For at least 15 years of my life, I’ve kept my bisexuality a secret. It’s a part of me that I have never really understood or been able to come to grips with. Growing up here, as in many parts of the world still, the negative stigma associated with being anything but straight as an arrow was rampant. Children deride each other as “fags” and “homos” before they even have an awareness of what sex means or have fully developed their own gender identities.
At an older age, things were worse and the potential for bullying high. I was bullied for many things including sometimes a presumption that I was gay on account of an avant-garde taste in clothing and participation in Drama, but never for my actual gender preferences; I kept those securely guarded. High School here was hostile to those with even an uncertain gender preference so I not only kept it to myself but actively suppressed all interest in the same sex. I was a little socially inept and emotionally unstable to begin with and denying part of myself probably didn’t help either situation, but I thought it would make me more normal. I wanted nothing more at the time than good friends and acceptance. I never thought I could get that acceptance being bi.
The first people I came out to were the five people I travelled with to a certain spiritualist youth camp. For all the woo and bullshit present, new age religion can be very accepting of and even praising of the different qualities we all have. That week of camp was a complete shift from the culture I was used to. Though I still said nothing of my bisexuality while there (I was serious enough about the religion at the time to have considered it far from the purpose of the camp), many came out at the event and I came out to my teen group during the return flight. My comfort with myself was fleeting, however. It didn’t take long after returning for my new-found worldview to shatter under the stress of school and reality that life was not a new age camp in a bubble. People could be mean, people were stubborn and not accepting of things that were different. My disillusionment with the religion some time later also served to cast doubts on even the better parts of my experience at that camp.
Shortly after that trip to camp I came out to my mom. We had a long chat about it in the car one evening and while I never felt judged, I was told that it was good that I still liked girls because life would be more difficult if I were gay (not that she’d love me any less, etc., etc.). While my mom knowing was important to me, I wasn’t reassured by her words or the idea that if I chose to enjoy the company of men I would be in for a harsher life. This further contributed to my suppression of my leanings in that direction and desire for a hetero-normative lifestyle. It hasn’t been mentioned in conversation with my mom since.
My current relationship some 15 years later is the only one in which I’ve ever been able to be completely honest with my partner about my sexual preferences. Her own openness about being pansexual herself has gone a long way toward helping me to get comfortable with my own preferences and identity.
For some time I’ve been of the not-unpopular opinion that I couldn’t identify as bisexual until I had some form of “proof.” There are a number of problems with that opinion:
- Gender preference is not a trade or profession in which you need to be certified to participate. I don’t have to prove my preference to anyone.
- There is no threshold for evidence that will alleviate all self-doubt. Enjoyment of a single experience doesn’t necessarily make a person gay, straight, or otherwise. How much experience do I need to prove to myself that I’m bi?
- No proof is required of any person’s straightness in our society. It’s the assumption and the norm. My approach has, for better or worse, been informed by the thinking of our society as a whole.
To date, I have never had sex with a man, I’ve never had a relationship with a man, yet I’ve known I was bisexual since I was old enough to download porn, perhaps earlier. I have in the intervening time practiced self-denial to extremes. Some of the ridiculously overreaching habits I’ve formed to avoid appearing to be bisexual include:
- never maintaining eye contact with men too long
- pretending not to notice shirtless or unclothed men (even outside the locker room)
- giving one-armed man-hugs
- laughing off and even speaking homophobic jokes and statements
- groaning along with the other guys at on-film appearances of male nudity
I recently came out about my bisexuality (on National Coming Out Day) to a large number of friends. So far all responses have been good or otherwise silent but interestingly several people noted that they would never have guessed. Evidently, my habits did the job effectively. In my mind I was always one small misstep from being found out.
I came out at this time because I’m tired of lying to myself and others about who I am. I’m tired of having insecurities. Bisexuality is a part of my identity that I’m not very familiar with. Due to the polyamorous nature of my current relationship, I’m free to explore that side of myself if I choose but unless I’m comfortable with and open about my bisexuality I’ll never be able to take that leap.
I’m still working on my comfort level and the idea of dating men gives me simultaneous excitement and queasiness. I feel awkward and uneasy as though I’m back to square one in dating; I don’t know what I want and I have no experience. I do, however, feel as though a door has been opened finally after being shut a very long time. It’s not that I couldn’t be myself before, but that I couldn’t be completely myself. I am no longer actively being a hindrance to my own experience and enjoyment of life and relationships.
I’m a little more free.
