I had a dream the other night that brought up a repressed memory. I was five, I was in bed with my mom and I asked her a question. I asked her if when I got big like her, if I could marry a mommy or a daddy. Weird way of saying it, I’m aware, but at the time I was still under the societal mentality that outlined marriage in conjunction with children. She told me that I could only marry a boy, because that’s what the Bible said.

I didn’t want to go against what the Bible said. If I did that I would go to hell. That had been ingrained in my mind from a very young age. So, despite being sad and confused, I decided I would only get to marry a boy, because the alternative was burning in hell for eternity.

I spent the next decade trying to suppress the knowledge I had… that I felt the same about boys as I did about girls. I liked them both. I wanted to kiss them both. I wanted to hold their hands. I thought about dating both genders and that wasn’t right.

Around the start of high school was when I stopped believing in God. I have written about this several times, but never in conjunction with my sexuality. Because, even though I stopped believing in what Christianity deemed right or wrong, I still couldn’t come to terms with how I felt about women. Religion had brainwashed me so tremendously that I still thought I was doing something wrong. On top of that, bisexuality is often presented as a transition period.

Most people, even in the LGBTQ+ community, view bisexuals differently than they view the rest of the community. Bisexuals are the outsiders; they are the butt of every joke. People will tell bisexuals that they are either gay or straight, they just haven’t “figured it out yet.” If you identify as bisexual and you are in a straight relationship, people tell you you’re straight, and the same goes for if you are in a relationship with someone who identifies as the same sex as you. Bisexuals are viewed as promiscuous, as cheaters, as people who just want to fuck everyone. I didn’t want to be that.

The same year I asked my mom if I could marry a boy or a girl was the year my little sister was born. When I was in high school my sister told me she was a lesbian. I spent the rest of the time I had at home before leaving for college trying to protect her from my mom. Around this time was when I decided to classify myself as pansexual, but I never really told anyone, and when I did, I did it offhandedly: “Like yeah, I mean I just love people and if I fall in love with someone, I don’t want it to matter if they’re a boy or a girl or anything in between…. But like I mostly like men.” It felt trite, it felt false, but it was more important for me to protect my sister. She didn’t have the same privilege as me. She didn’t like men at all. She could not hide her gayness by liking or dating men like I could. I love my sister more than anything else, my sexuality was never as important as keeping her safe, making sure she knew that she was valid.

I didn’t start telling people I liked girls until I left for college. San Francisco is more accepting than anywhere else of gay people. Even though there is still a stigma about bisexuality, it was easier to tell people who didn’t already know me. Who wouldn’t think I was trying to get attention or going through a phase. But I still felt like half my identity was false. Besides kissing a few women, I’d never dated one… so maybe this was all in my head. Maybe I only liked the appearance of women, but not the notion of being with one.

It was not until about a year ago that I finally accepted myself, that I finally chose to validate my own feelings and leave behind the stigma religion and society had placed in my head. I’m bisexual, I’m proud of it, and I hope that anyone who has ever felt that way I did will accept themselves as well.