Standing on the playground that day, it was clear I liked the little blonde girl who was playing in front of me. It wasn’t in a “I want to be your bestie, jump rope and have a sleepover way,” either. No, indeed, I liked her in the way I knew I was only supposed to like boys. I sat confused. How could this be?
Everything I had been taught in church told me being gay or lesbian was not only a sin, but it was gross. I wanted God to love me. If being a lesbian was disgusting, what kind of freak must I be for liking boys and girls? I prayed for God to cure me because I believed in my heart that people like me couldn’t exist. I made a choice to keep my feelings to myself and tell no one.
In my teens, the only time I saw bisexual women represented was in porn. I didn’t see bisexual women shown as normal, only as the objects of male fantasies. I didn’t want to have threesomes for the entertainment of men. I just wanted to date women if we were mutually attracted to each other. It didn’t seem like a hard concept. Yet, in the few conversations I had about being bisexual as a teen, I was told it was just a phase. I was going to burn in hell. Or I was treated like some sex vixen vying for male attention. So I stopped talking about it.
For years, I avoided relationships with wonderful women and hid the few relationships I did have. I worried that if people knew, they would think I was a bad mother, a swinger, a whore, and that my children would be teased. It wasn’t until National Coming Out Day four years ago that I came out publicly. I had spent years being an “ally” to the LGBT community while I was unwilling to acknowledge my whole self.
I am still the same mom, friend, daughter and citizen. I take that back: I am better because I don’t live a lie anymore. When I talk about the need for employment protection that includes sexual orientation, I can say, “yes, I mean me too.” Marriage equality matters to me personally since one day I could marry a woman (even though I currently date a man).
I have come a long way from that playground in Wisconsin years ago. I’m not confused. I don’t think I’m broken or that God needs to fix me. I feel whole, fulfilled and loved.
I am proud to be part of what is often called the “silent B” in LGBT community. I live my life in truth now, and that is priceless.
Laurie Bertram Roberts is a regular columnist for the Jackson Free Press. Read her other columns at jfp.ms/roberts.
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The link at the bottom of the piece doesn’t work 🙁
#6117 | Author: multiculturegirl | Date: May 1 2014
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The Mississippi Free Press produced this story through the MFP Solutions Lab, supported by the Solutions Journalism Network. This series digs into Mississippi’s systemic issues and sheds light on responses to them in other communities. Beyond just reporting on problems, these stories interrogate their causes and inspect potential solutions.