I came out bisexual this last year. In June(2009) to my immediate family and this last February(2010) to my friends. Thankfully, I was supported and accepted. Certainly, I heard occasional snippets of she’s bi and all sorts of other comments of how I can’t chose and can’t get any, the usual bi-bashing slander.

I think, looking back, that I was so scared that no one would accept me. I didn’t accept me at first.

I liked girls and boys ever since I could conceivably have a crush and fully get what “liking” someone meant. But while I had heard and been told it was okay if I was a lesbian, I had never heard of being bisexual. It was okay for me to be a dyke, or straight, but bisexual? Never heard of it.

The first girl I ever liked was a girl named Dominque. And then there was Danielle. Shahar. Tiffany. Christine. Katie. Lindsey. Halley. Victoria. There were guys interspersed at random. But ultimately, I liked both sexes and I was scared. There had to be something wrong with me. If there wasn’t I would have heard of this already.

I accepted my sexuality after I was done trying to force myself straight. I wrote and wrote in my journal and researched for people like me, people who liked both sexes. I watched a few television movies and shows and realized, nothing was wrong with Ellen DeGeneres, nothing was wrong with any gay/lesbian/bisexual people. And there was nothing wrong with me.

My parents seemed to know as my junior year came around, a year after I finally considered that I wasn’t straight. I wasn’t a lesbian either. But they seemed to know I wasn’t straight.

I remember driving with my dad one day. I wanted to tell him. I started bringing up the topic by mentioning what one of my openly gay friends was going through at home. My dad agreed that being forced to be straight and be kicked out and disowned because of being homosexual, was wrong. I started to tell him, to confess this secret I had been unconsciously bottling up for years. I opened my mouth to begin, but I couldn’t do it. My mouth sat there open and nothing came out. Nothing. I thought nothing. I felt nothing. And then with a cold stab of fear, I shivered unconsciously as the subject was changed to some person behind me tailgating me. I was relieved, but ashamed. The perfect leeway and I blew it. I froze. A year or two passed.

When I finally did commit to my plan, I had already told my sister who said it was “cool” and that she supported me. I was soaring because someone knew. I wasn’t alone anymore. I had already come out to one friend earlier that year, who I will refer to as Lucky. Lucky is still one of my closest friends and I appreciate the support I received so much.

But when I did come out, it was in a jumbled mess. You see that night I had invited someone I knew had liked me and I played him. I felt horrible about it. I played up the whole nervous date attitude and mannerisms I had witnessed with others of my sex. And just as I executed my lines and actions, so did my friend, like a puppet on strings. Strings I pulled on to my advantage.

Later, my father asked me some questions, like how did I like this boy? All sorts of questions about him. And I just blurted it out. I had never really liked this boy. He was my friend. And I played him. I felt sick about it, but I needed time to consider how to come out and reveal my purple self. “Dad, I like girls. I am in love with a girl. She doesn’t love me back, but I love her. I do like some boys, but not that one. Dad, I am bisexual.

There was an awkward silence and my dad tried the “it is just a phase” remark that I had learned to hate. It wasn’t just a phase. It isn’t just a phase. But as we talked, my dad accepted me more.

I was afraid to tell my mom. She’s an LGBTQiP supporter, but I only knew about the G and the L. I wasn’t either. My dad evidently told her because a week later, she brought it up and reassured me that she didn’t care what sex/gender whoever I loved. She told me a little bit about her days as an active supporter, helping teens who weren’t as lucky as I to have an accepting family. She said if I ever wanted to talk about it, to talk to her.

I was so happy. My sisters both knew, as did my parents. This February, I ,at the encouragement of my new friend Casey, became open about being bisexual. We both became open bisexuals on the same day. I was really happy to have a friend who was bi too. It made a comradeship. I wasn’t alone anymore.

Since then, I have opened up a lot and have answered questions from peers and others, dealt with insults attacking my sexuality, my looks, and me and educated others about why my love for men and women isn’t wrong and why everyone should have equal rights in the USA and the world.

I have also educated myself further so that I can answer questions better and explain because the insults and attacks I and others like me face, aren’t about us. It isn’t about the fact that men can love men. Men can love women. Women can love men. Women can love women. It is not about people loving people. Their insults are about ignorance and fear. And the only way to face that is head on.

I can’t stand by and watch another Matthew Shepard or Jane Currie die because of bigotry, hatred and ignorance. That is not acceptable. It is not acceptable for me to sit by and watch that happen to anyone.

My coming out was very positive once I finally realized I wasn’t going to be hated, disowned, unloved and abused. However, not everyone is that lucky.