Coming Out, Casually

I realize that what I’m about to talk about comes from a place of privilege; I’m not suggesting that this is a good prescription for anyone else, because I have to acknowledge that I’m in a place of relative safety when it comes to alternative sexualities.

One of the aspects of life for a non-straight individual is that we are always coming out. Every new person assumes we’re straight, unless we’re doing something to mark ourselves as not-that. For women, we can do it with undercuts, short hair, many piercings, some alternative clothes (though all of that can also be used to mark oneself as a hipster, but that’s a conversation for another day).

I do not do these things — my hair is long, no undercuts, I have only your common ear piercings, and my tattoo is not in a place where people could see it every day. I do not wear pins with rainbows or other LGBT+ colors. And yet, I do not feel as if I have ever been ‘in the closet’ with new people for very long.

The reason is that I consciously try to talk about my bisexuality. I will often bring up past relationships, or dates I’ve been on, and be honest about the pronouns involved.

I don’t sit down with anyone to have The Queer Talk. I don’t sigh dramatically or start crying: there’s more cause for others to enjoy that huge relief in telling someone, and I wouldn’t want to belittle their tales with a similar reaction. Instead, I normalize it. I tell people about dates I’m going on, things I’m worried about with the new girl or the new guy, and ask for their advice like usual.

I don’t sit down with anyone to have The Queer Talk. Instead, I normalize it.

What ends up happening is if people want to, they’ll ask me about it on their own time in their own way. Sometimes, they’ll show shock or concern, and I’ve even heard the normal ‘bisexual biases’ in these situations, including that we’re sexually promiscuous, indecisive, and unfaithful.

(I sometimes wonder if they realize how insulting it is for someone to say that to me, a real life person in front of them, but again — that’s for another discussion.)

The other thing that happens is that, occasionally, people I’ve spoken to about it will turn to me for advice. They might have told me they were straight when we met, or that they’re sort of grossed out by not-straight couples. Usually, those are the ones who come to me later, while drunk or desperate, and admit feelings for someone of the same gender (or an alternative gender).

Because I’ve shown them how normal it is for me, they feel like they have permission to normalize it too. It might be a long time before they feel comfortable doing anything else about those feelings, or pursuing the object of their desires, but they now know that it’s okay.

So yes, I have to come out a lot, as many queer people have had to deal with. But I rarely say, “I’m bisexual,” or “I also like girls.” I’m chill when I let it out, and then leave it up to them to comment if they like.