The year is 1997. The place
is Buckhannon, West Virginia. The person is me. I've come out as
bisexual.
SPOILER: It does not go
well.
This is the part where I get
tongue-tied, where I don't know how to proceed. Where my mind
screams, I'M FUNNY, I HAVE TO BE FUNNY. This is the part where I
don't mention the boys who lined up along the hallway to spit on me
as I walked to class. I don't mention anything about the person who
shot out my porchlight one light. I don't talk about the people who
threw bottles and bricks at me as I walked down the street. I don't
mention my mother telling me not to talk about it, that I should keep
it secret, that if I were to live with a woman one day, I should tell
people she's my sister.
Like all of my gay friends,
I hit refresh refresh refresh as I waited for the DOMA ruling to come
out. Unlike my gay friends, I had to write a story on it. It was the
hardest story I ever wrote, because I'd put my fingers on the keys,
and I'd burst into tears. I'd pull myself together, and I'd put my
fingers on the keys, and I'd burst into tears again.
Bisexual is not the same as
gay, it's true. Bisexual is half straight, isn't it. I could pretend
not to like women. I could make the choice to live my life halfway.
But now I can be my whole
self. I can fall in love with whoever I want.
That's what the DOMA ruling
means to me.
