I don’t know if I was born with a gift.Is it a gift not to notice the gender or the sex of a person? If it indeed can be considered a gift, then I have it. Somehow, I have always known I’m not the only one with such a gift but I thought that it should remain in silence. At the time, it seemed so.
I reached the age of seventeen. I had to speak up about that part of myself regardless of the consequences. Not to speak about it felt like trying to hide the true tan of my skin, the color of my eyes or any other inborn feature. I decided to do it. To come out as a person of bisexual orientation because I got familiar with the term while surfing online.I recognized myself in it.
First I decided to come out to my family, and then to close friends although I though they already knew about it somehow.
It was an early spring afternoon, and my mother and me were walking down the street. I was looking for an opportunity to start the conversation with her. We were always pretty open to each other soit wasn’t a difficult step to make. After a few moments, two girls holding hands passed by.
My mother paid little attention to them and went back to her thoughts.
I interrupted her thinking:
“Have you seen how beautiful the jackets of those two girls are?”
She replied as if she had just awoken:“Yes, good for the raining season.”
“Have you noticed their hands?,” I asked quietly.
“Yes and I can’t see anything wrong with their hands.”
“She was holding her hand as if she was a boy.”
“So what?,” she said, mildly bored.
Then I said it. I told her about that part of myself. I told her that my sexual orientation is bisexual.
It seemed she had been expecting me to say I was a lesbian. I saw the confusion in her eyes.
In the next few moths the phrases she used when referring to the topic were mostly: “You’ll have to decide” or “You can’t live that way because you are going to catch some disease.”
I tried. I really tried to decide. For a few months I tried to convince myself I’m gay, and for the next few that I’m straight. I felt emotionally torn apart.It felt like trying to breathe through the nose with your mouth blocked and viceversa.
That’s how I lived for a year and half.
Then one morning over breakfast, I told her, with a deep helpless note in my voice: “Mom, you know it’s impossible. You know it’s impossible to choose.”
Her head bent, she replied: “I know.” There was a silence between us at first, and then we hugged.
I can still remember her words: “You aren’t made to fit into boxes and standards. If you try to fit in, you are going to suffer. If you don’t try, you are going to suffer the same. Better be who you are and suffer than pretend and suffer because that way, you would pay a double price.”
I finally felt my mind fixed and as strong as one can be. I had her support.
As for the guys I dated at that time, their reactions were mostly: “You are so cool,” accompanied by a gleam in their eyes that said: “Let endless perversion begin.”
So, there would be no second date and that would mostly be it.
Maybe it wasn’t just the look in their eyes after all.
And as for the girls…. The girls I dated back then were mostly: “Guys are the real thing and this between us is just… sorry, but it’s just JERKING OFF.”
I was twenty-one when I met the girl and felt energy that made my head spin and my blood boil for the first time. Later on, I met a few persons fora couple of times that made me feel the same way. I say ‘persons’ because that is all I saw.
I started to travel a little more.I got to know people similar to me and they introduced me to the so-called LGBT scene and community.
I stepped into that world with a childish vision of the struggle for equality common to all of us who are different. Those were days of true happiness but as I got deeper into it all, I could notice some strange silence in between my statement of bisexuality and their reactions. And the reactions were:“Don’t worry, aren’t we all,” or just the eyes rolling in what seemed as: “Poor little thing, she seems so confused.” I was mostly in the company of my friends who in such situations usually interrupted the conversation or dragged me away.
I interpreted that as an attempt to protect me from further, possibly negative, development of the situation.
It wasn’t always like that, of course. I remember some mild smiles then smart looks. But still that strange silence in between… We need to break it.
I still believe in LGBT, with all the letters visible. I still believe in LGBT without that silence in BETWEEN.
3 most commont myth about bisexual coming out.