by Hunter Richards
Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m the most indecisive person. Where should we eat? I don’t know. What should we watch? I don’t know. What should I wear? I don’t know.
But with that said, my inability to make up my mind doesn’t reach my sexuality. Unlike the common misconception, which I’ve heard time and time again, it’s not that I can’t make up my mind whether I like girls or boys. It’s a lot like when people would ask whether I was a cat-person or a dog-person and I, confused, would answer that I just loved animals.
I saw college as my fresh start, where I could finally be honest about myself. But no more than a month into freshman year, I had already heard ignorant thoughts from those around me and started to think maybe I would never be free. After someone in my entryway told me she would never be comfortable living with a queer girl, I made use of my bed risers to shove all my baggage further out of sight but, unfortunately, not out of mind.
However, the longer I hid my sexuality, the more microaggressions I witnessed. At the end of freshman year, I met an MIT girl I really liked. Except, I could never have her come visit me and the questions about where I was headed to soon became too stressful. I sabotaged the potential-relationship because I wasn’t able to tell anyone the truth. But sophomore fall, when the boy I was seeing told me about his awful bisexual ex who left him for a girl, I cracked. National Coming Out Day fell during midterms and I’m always looking for a good reason to procrastinate, so I took to Facebook and let the world know that the only thing straight about me is my eyeliner. It was nerve-wracking and I immediately hid from all social interactions.
Except, I didn’t have to.
I started receiving messages from many of my friends telling me they supported me and were happy I could be happy. I sent my mom a screenshot of Google’s National Coming Out Day banner but was met with her reassuring me that, yet again, there wasn’t really much I could ever hide from her but also that I never needed to.
In the almost-year that I’ve been openly bisexual, I’ve had over a dozen people confide in me that they were questioning and many of them soon felt comfortable coming out themselves. While I’ve had to receive many messages from friends and family letting me know that they couldn’t ever support my “lifestyle,” being able to help others find comfort in their own identities as well as being able to openly love whomever I chose makes it worth it.
Plus, I could never kiss good-bi all the potential puns.