I’ve been trying all week to articulate this … awful feeling in my heart and in my head.
I’m a white cis-gendered woman, and I’m married to a white, cis-gendered man. I’ve struggled with my sexuality for most of my life, finally realizing, at the not so tender age of 39, that I am bi. My first marriage (ten and a half years), was to a woman. My romantic history is pretty much 50/50, and it took me a long time to realize that I am neither one (heterosexual) nor the other (lesbian), but somewhere fluidly in-between.
I pass. I pass in a variety of ways every day. I am a child of privilege, I know which fork to use, how to sit properly, how to exit a car demurely while wearing a skirt and I know that my back shouldn’t touch the back of my chair and that my knees should always be together (ankles crossing is permissible, leg over knee is not). I was raised in a cloud of classical music and manners, I know my Shakespeare from my Kafka, I’ve taken Latin, and attended sailing camp. I am well bred. I pass.
A couple of weeks ago, some kids around the corner from us set up a lemonade and bracelet stand (super adorable). They pretty much chased us down when we went to our car to ask if we would buy one or the other. I picked the most purple bracelet they had (I’m pretty sure it is made out of colored rubber bands and I love it). I noticed only later that it is the colors of the bi-flag with a band of rainbow at the end. I loved the accident of that.
A week or so ago we were sitting at our local bar when one of the guy we regularly talk to (straight, white, a former army ranger) mentioned that if he won the lottery he would buy up all the tickets to a country singer’s concert, sit in the front row, and call him a fag. I was so surprised I didn’t say anything. My husband was the one who spoke up, who said that is not okay. Other guys chimed in, trying to explain that it wasn’t a shitty thing to do, that calling someone a fag had nothing to do with hating gay people. The discussion turned towards totally not hating gay people, but being very bothered when they are “too gay.“ This is an old argument I’ve heard over and over again. Your gayness is fine as long as you aren’t "too gay." We left shortly after that. I haven’t felt comfortable around those guys since then. I haven’t felt comfortable around myself. My husband spoke up. I supported him but I’m not the one that really argued the point.
Orlando happened. I haven’t slept well since then. That Sunday we bought our tickets for a trip to New York in the fall. My husband mentioned that it would be cool to walk down the street in New York, holding hands. My first, automatic, response was that we can hold hands anywhere.
At work it is obvious who is straight and who is not. The not straight, all of us, keep checking the news, checking updates on Orlando, passing around articles about what happened. We know why it matters deeply that this happened at a gay club. We know our history. The rest of the people at work, they don’t. It is still a hidden history. They know about pride month, but they don’t know about Stonewall. They know and care that lives have been lost, but they don’t understand the nuances. They don’t understand how this is obviously a fucking a hate crime. It is still a hidden history. Co-workers are somewhat surprised that this matters so much to me.
I pass. And right now that makes me feel like a fucking fraud.
I feel this, very much. I’m 37 and realizing that I’m at least a little bi. Probably, like when Mara Wilson came out, a 2, if we’re using Kinsey.
I’ve also been married to a man for 18 years (cis white woman).
I never knew liking girls was an option, growing up. I don’t have any extensive experience with girls beyond a kiss here or there. I got married young and I’ve only ever really had relationships with guys.
But I know that I’m attracted to some girls, at least on some level.
And yet, while I would be the first person to tell someone else that their relationship doesn’t invalidate their bisexuality, I have a hard time with it myself. I suppose I feel like if i’ve got no practical experience it doesn’t really count, which i realize intellectually is false, but I have a hard time accepting in myself.
I didn’t mean to hijack your post, it’s just something that’s been on my mind, especially since Saturday. I pass too, and I don’t feel like I have the right to count myself as part of the community.