Reflections on Coming Out as Bisexual
Ten years ago today, I came out as bisexual. Like many millennial queers at the time, I did so through an overly-sentimental Facebook post to my dear friends and family. Whilst I fantasized about it for quite some time, I had, perhaps impulsively, done so on that specific day after feeling the surge of euphoria brought on by the US Supreme Court's Obergefell v. Hodges ruling - a landmark decision that established the constitutional right for same-sex couples to marry in all 50 U.S. states. This was a seminal moment for American progressive activists and it coincided with the pure joy I was feeling after leaving my hometown for the metropolitan heart of downtown Calgary. When I was writing that post all those years ago, I vividly recall the summer morning's endless blue sky and the electrifying urban cacophony outside my apartment complex. Once shared, the post was rolled onto my Facebook friends' newsfeeds to be likely viewed alongside dead memes, alarmist news articles, and Buzzfeed listicles. Whilst the ephemera of the newsfeed is undeniable, the kind words and loving support I received afterwards solidified a longer lasting feeling of love and pride. And for that, I am thankful- even to this day.
Of course, in the years prior to coming out, I had to make peace with my sexual orientation. As a chronically-online flamboyant teenager, I grew up watching the culture wars over same-sex marriage in the United States. This acted as a flashpoint in queer politics at the time, because whilst Canada had settled upon the legalization of same-sex marriage back in 2006, the U.S. was still embattled over the issue. From the ludicrous anti-queer bigotry of the Westboro Baptist Church to Lady Gaga's iconic 2011 anthem on self-acceptance, the broader conversation in the United States spread north of the 49th parallel through nascent social media networks, trending (and sometimes kitsch) viral videos, and of course, television programming. For a budding bisexual stranded in the midst of a remote prairie town, access to these 2SLGBTQ+ stories, issues, and perspectives over the internet (and broader media landscape) was formative. My hometown, like much of my province, can often be defined by a deep cultural conservatism. This is the province whose former Premier, Ralph Klein, threatened to invoke the Charter's notwithstanding clause to block same-sex marriage legalization. This is the province where the Danielle Smith's Wildrose Party was rocked by their own candidates' "lake of fire" blog post. I felt this omnipresent fear of anti-queer bigotry growing up. On a personal level, whether it was a summer bible camp or a high school hallway, this fear existed for a real reason.
Until I could find relief in urban life, the internet provided a degree of sanctuary. Online, I chatted on Facebook with queer folks from all over the continent (sometimes in a fairly flirtatious way), watched sex-positive queer Youtubers (like Laci Green), read Glee and Degrassi fandom comments (all quite queer-coded), and ordered the cringiest 2SLGBTQ+ rights merch possible. Perhaps most influence though was making a life-long friend with another bisexual, who much life myself, had been raised in a small town and courageously came out earlier in their adolescence. By the time I had finally started admitting to myself that I was attracted to men, women, and anyone in between, it was around the middle of the 2010s. During that time, I went to my first gay bar (in Washington D.C. no less) with other fellow queer libertarian conference attendees. I went to my first Pride Parade in Edmonton, where an unapologetic (and recently elected) Premier Notley and her NDP caucus waved to the crowd with such ease and grace. These events, and the people I knew who were out and proud, lived in big urban centres. As I came closer to moving to Calgary for university, I took the months preceding to start coming out to trusted friends of mine. Dear friends like Krystal and Avery, who showed me nothing but love, which allowed me to make the decision I did. A decision I impulsively made 26 days after leaving my hometown.
Since coming out, the decade has been arguably been defined by a cultural backlash to queer identities across Canada, the United States, and Europe. At home in Alberta, Premier Smith and her thuggish crooked UCP caucus have waged a draconian legislative assault on trans youth - with a new policy for sports organizations that will require transgender women and girls be barred from participating in competitions (if there is a complaint regarding an athlete, an investigation will be called, and a birth certificate will be required for verification). In the United States, a nation plunging towards full-blown autocracy (with enough recent anti-queer legislative activity to warrant concerns for Canadian tourists), Southern Baptists overwhelmingly voted to endorse overturning the Supreme Courts' ruling on same-sex marriage. And in Hungary, participating in Pride events is a criminal offense that could warrant a prison sentence. These are a few examples of a broader global assault on our peoples' right to exist. State incursions into our individual lives, whilst alarming in their own right, do not tell the full story though. Within each corner of the globe, this pervasive backlash brings a private violence against our people. A private violence that has long-existed, but emerges renewed. And it is for those people that my love goes.
But still, today, even though this cultural backlash has had personal ramifications for myself from family, I am proud of myself for being brave and coming out of the closet. I am happily married to my creative, beautiful, compassionate, and studly partner of (nearly) six years. My spouse's family, whom are now my family (I claim them) support us with unconditional love. I have a loving friends (many of them queer) who love me for who I am. I have a workplace that is welcoming to all and has leadership that earnestly supports our peoples' right to exist. And I live in a vibrant neighborhood in a accepting and inclusive city. But queer acceptance in our city is never guaranteed. It must not only be defended, but advanced. Our work is not done yet.
To end this on a more jovial note, I would like to present this curated photography collection I call: ME!? NO! I am a very straight individual who happens to heterosexually connect to Lady Gaga's 2011 album Born This Way.
