Happy Pride! I'm Coming Out...Again.

I remember when I first learned about “coming out.” It was before I knew it was something I would one day do; before I felt safe acknowledging my attraction to girls or understood that being attracted to two genders made me bisexual.

“Coming out” was a foreign concept reserved for the gay men and lesbians I saw on TV. I imagined it as an event—a singular moment where a queer person announced to the world that they were different.

Now I know that coming out is endless. I have chosen to come out as bisexual multiple times, and no two have been the same.

Some stand out, like when I told my former in-laws. As lesbian women in a healthy, long-term relationship, their lovely response felt like an affirmation of my queerness. That was life-changing for me as a straight-presenting woman in a relationship with a man at the time.

A few years later, I was an anxiety-riddled mess sitting in the passenger seat of my then-fiance’s car, my mother directly behind me. Too afraid to look back, I spoke into the windshield when I said, “Mom, I’m bisexual, and I want you to know before I marry a man.” My deeply religious mother simply said, “Okay, I love you.”

In moments like those, coming out did seem momentous. But the more I have lived in the truth of my queerness, the more matter of fact I have become about sharing it.

A few years back, a family friend, confused by my Pride posts, asked me if I was gay, I simply said, “No, I’m bi.” Last year, a family member said, “What woman in her right mind would marry a woman?” I replied, “Me,” and let the silence hang between us until the conversation moved on.

At this point, I have stopped treating it like something to announce at all. I’ve reached a point where being bisexual is like being left-handed. It’s a fact of my life. One I embrace but don’t sweat about.

If I’m asked, I’m honest. If people have (respectful) questions, I’m open. During Pride month, I celebrate.

And in that way, I am always coming out, again and again, to new friends, potential partners, and anyone who has that flicker of confusion or surprise in their eyes when I casually mention ex-girlfriends of female love interests.

But it’s no longer something I wrangle with. I have accepted myself wholeheartedly. I have told people I love, and they have accepted me, even if they struggle with my identity.

None of this means that I am not proud. I am.

In a world where queerness is still frowned upon, at best, and criminalized, at worst, I refuse to be secretive or flippant about my sexuality. I have the privilege of living in a place where I am not persecuted for my identity. I am fortunate to have family, friends, and community that have continued to love me even if they don’t understand or fully accept.

Living in my queer identity out loud is an act of solidarity with those who aren’t safe to do that.

I will claim my queerness unapologetically. I will stand up for those who are still beaten, imprisoned, violated, or killed for who they are and who they love. I will come out again and again until we live in a world where no one has to.

With love and pride,

Talia