I’m a late adopter of celebrating the annual National Coming Out Day in October, but two years ago, after moving back to Chicago and ending a relationship, it seemed like a good time to “wave at the people.”
I was careful to use a smiley face emoji when letting people know “Yep, pretty sure I’ve always been this way,” because I wanted to convey positivity. It’s great. It’s a positive thing. Being bisexual is great. I can date anyone, regardless (or perhaps in spite of) gender. Being middle-aged and single means that I’ve learned to hate all people, regardless (or perhaps in spite of) gender, but that’s my upcoming post for National Bitter Old Hag Day.
Some of the input I received from people I know after my Facebook statement last year (which I considered pretty innocuous—as I said before, I’ve been out and think of myself as pretty out to anyone who’s wondering):
By coming out, we are visible. Our visibility as LGBTQ people is incredibly important as the world deals with public space that is increasingly contested, with movement that is increasingly policed, with the reality of what being in a pandemic and having limitations on gathering can mean. This is especially important in a world where bars that cater to mostly bisexual women and lesbians are few and far between. Of course, the community doesn’t necessarily require a bar to meet and gather—we always have great social and advocacy groups (like Affinity and Brave Space Alliance) and party nights and clubs. But when I was first checking things out as a teenager in the late 80s and early 90s, lesbian bars and other women’s spaces that existed at the time were places that I knew I could go to just talk with like-minded people, and feel like myself. And again, sorry for fooling you, bouncers and bar staff! That was a great fake ID.
