It took me a long time to find a word for myself. It took me even longer to use it.
I’d had plenty of crushes on girls, so I didn’t know what to make of it whenever I found a guy attractive. At first, I chalked it up to envy, then appreciation, and then curiosity. It wasn’t until my early 20s that I finally found the word that best described me: bisexual.
The thing is, I was in a committed and loving relationship, so I figured that my epiphany didn’t really matter, and I hid that word away. But during a mental health crisis in my mid-30s, I realized how heavy and frightening that word had become, and knew I had to let that burden go. I told my wife (while I ugly-cried), and was happily met with love and support. My sexuality is not a threat to our relationship. My sexuality is just another part of who I am. By owning that, I can share my whole self with the people I love.
“Bi” the way… bisexuals are statistically more likely to be in the closet than their gay and lesbian peers, and also more likely to suffer from anxiety and depression due to isolation and prejudice. That’s why I’m so loudly and proudly bi: because I want to fight erasure in our communities, and because – at long last – I deserve to celebrate who I am.