We worry about taking up space in a marginalized community when we have the privilege of passing for straight.
We worry we aren’t queer enough to call ourselves queer. We often feel erased by our choice of romantic partners. I know my journey is common to a lot of bisexual people who are involved with someone of the opposite sex. It could have been my Midwestern instincts to settle into the path of least resistance that made me round myself down to heterosexual: “Ope! Let me not bother you with my complicated sexuality! I’ll just sit over here with the straight people! Please don’t worry about me!” Whatever the cause, I kept quiet, even as I started to notice that my crushes were aimed at girls almost as often as boys. Or perhaps it was just the “straight-by-default” assumption we put on kids that made me eager to grow into the space that had been cleared for me. Perhaps it was my Catholic upbringing that kept me from speaking the truth about my sexuality for so long. Read More: What to Know About the Bisexuality Pride Flag Had I just come out as bisexual, at age 36 and for the first time in my life, to my first-grader? My son went back to watching his show, but I was struck by the enormity of what I’d just done.
