'Moments I Knew I Was Bi' / Zadie McCracken
Moments I Knew I Was Bi
I kissed a girl for the first time.
I cuddled with a boy at a party.
I got drunk and wanted a boy to kiss me so much I felt like my head was going to explode.
I wrote endless journal entries about the girl I liked.
I kept staring at the girl in philosophy class.
I kept staring at the boy in philosophy class.
I got drunk and ranted about bisexuality at the party.
I felt like a stereotype.
I wanted a girlfriend.
I wanted a boyfriend.
I wanted someone, regardless of their gender.
I wanted to be bisexual and call myself bisexual.
I cringed when someone called me a lesbian.
I had a sex dream about a boy.
I went home and cried thinking about a boy and how my friend got glass in her foot.
I fell in love.
I felt crazy.
I told myself not to worry.
I told myself it was a phase.
I told myself I was fluid, and I am.
I told the girl at the party that I had changed since I was a kid.
That I was different.
That I wasn’t who I had been at fourteen.
That I had a preference for women.
Or that women had been easier.
I said “I am queer” and felt at home.
I told myself it didn't matter.
Nothing in the grand scheme of things
In the chaos of our climate
It wasn't interesting to anyone except me.
No one cares.
No one will care.
He asked, “Have you come out?” and I made a noncommittal face.
I have always admired bisexual characters.
I resent having to be defined as any set sexuality (or, for that matter, gender!)
I had a crush.
I have a crush.
My grandmother didn't believe me because I liked boys when I was little.
My mother said, “She’s got a point”
I didn't want to be special.
I didn't want to be the same as every other girl I knew.
I didn't want to come out for a third time
Only to have to change again
Like a shapeshifter
The only option is to be uncaring.
To love without definition.
But how to unstick the labels?
How to rewrite the past?
And why should I have to? Why can't I just be a person who liked other people? Why do I feel some obligation, some obsession with putting myself in a box? Why do I keep talking about it, writing about it, it matters so little, why don’t I stop?
I asked myself what was holding me back
What made me afraid to say it
The answer was as clear as ever: it’s me, it’s me, it’s me again.
I am my ultimate enemy.
I am the only one against me.
Zadie McCracken is a Melbourne-based writer and artist, fond of public speaking, making to-do lists, wearing glitter and watching TV.
Image credit: Elvy Swan