Being bisexual is something that I’ve known my whole life. I had crushes on femme people before I had crushes on male-identifying people in gradeschool. Despite my lived truth, this part of my sexuality was always something that I tried to hide. I tried to hide it because I could. I didn’t have to explain myself to people who thought I was part of the LGBTQ2S+ community because I could also find pleasure in dating men. If I never gave myself an opportunity to date a woman or develop romantic feelings for a woman, then I could be “straight” to onlookers. This was the most ideal option for me because I was able to avoid explanations of my sexuality while I was still discovering who I was. I was able to shield myself from homophobic comments, and best of all, I never had to “come out” to family or friends. I still felt like myself while being in these heterosexual relationships, but a small part of me knew that there was more to my sexuality. 

At some point during my journey, I realized that I was not being honest with myself and that these feelings wouldn’t disappear once I began having relationships with men. Even during sexual experiences with femme people, I would gaslight myself into thinking that my experiences were friendly exchanges, ​​instead of recognizing that these experiences were real, valid, and forming my identity equally to the exchanges I had with men. At some point, I realized that to live my life to its fullest, I needed to explore every urge, spread as much love as I could, and validate my own emotions and experiences.

Along the way, I fell in love with my current partner who happens to be a cisgender heterosexual man. He is incredible, and loving, and supportive of me in every way. Once our relationship started getting more serious, I realized that there is a barrier that I must cross for our relationship to become more full. I needed to be open about every aspect of my identity and acknowledge my sexuality as valid. It was difficult for me to share this information with him, and to even define my sexuality to another person when I had been struggling to define it to myself. However, once I was open about my lived experiences and my identity to him, he became even more supportive of me, and he even wished me a happy pride month when nobody else in my life ever had.

But this brings me to the part of pride month that I struggle with: celebrating. As a white, cisgender woman who is currently experiencing life within the “norm” of a heterosexual relationship, I know that my voice is not the most important voice that needs to be heard during pride month. I have the privilege to be able to move between spaces of heteronormativity and queerness, and avoid circumstances of outright homophobia. I use “queerness” in this sense to describe anyone who does not conform to the colonial binaries of gender and sexuality. My experience, and ability to move between heteronormative and queer spaces, is a privilege that I know most other people in the queer community are not able to access. 

During pride month, I can sometimes feel included and excluded from these spaces because as a bisexual person, I feel my sexuality does not “count” in the same way as other queer experiences. Do I only belong to this community if my partner also belongs to this community? Does my sexuality matter if I am not currently experiencing queerness? Do I still get to celebrate pride month if others view me, and my current relationship as “straight”? These are questions that I have been grappling with due to my positionality this month.

Of course, my feeling somewhat excluded during pride month does not equate with other queer people being excluded from heteronormative spaces through discrimination every day. Nor does it equate with the struggle for basic human rights that many people in my community all around the world, especially trans people, face on a daily basis. I understand my privilege, and I am aware that queerness is a spectrum encompassing a broad variety of people and experiences under its umbrella; however, as a young bisexual person, I wanted to hear that my experience was also valid, especially when I was struggling with validating my sexuality internally.

Today, I can confidently say that all queer experiences are valid, whether you want to be open about them or not, whether you are struggling internally to find validation for your own lived truth, or whether you are completely comfortable in your queerness. To be prideful you do not need to scream your identity from the rooftops, sometimes, the best thing you can do during pride month is to acknowledge exactly who you are and be proud of that. Pride is about celebrating every aspect of yourself in the most honest, loving way that you can. Despite the struggles I have experienced in the past, and the questions I ask myself now, I am here to say that I am proud of myself this pride month.

By: Anonymous

Image: From "Organic Love"
Creative Director: Rida Chaudhry
Photographer: Taryn Resende
MUA: Jill Ford
Models: Marcus Zain
Ella Dalini
Kate Mcconnell