Oh Bi the Way - Pride 2022

"Are you sure this looks good?" My friend asked one night in mid-2020, as we had a bit of a fashion makeover going on.

"Come on, which one of us is attracted to men?" I joke, throwing another shirt at him. 

Twenty minutes later, we're talking about women's fashion. I don't remember what in particular, just that I had remarked about some trend or style looking good.

"Well how would you know?" My friend quipped, "You're not attracted to women."

I'm not sure what anyone else experienced, but I could have sworn the entire room pulsed with energy. It wasn't tension, I wasn't scared my friend hurt me in anyway. But for a second, the room was utterly airless.

"Uh. Well," I stutter. "That's a story for another time."

I wasn't sure anyone in the room caught my comment, until our other friend looked up from the dishes he was doing and stared at me for a couple seconds. A minute later, my phone lit up with a notification.

"Are you bisexual?"

...

I have been trying to write this post for a year. For a year I have typed, erased, re-typed, and re-erased to the point where these words feel well-worn in my mind and I often forget I've yet to actually share them with the world. I've debated for well over a year if this was a post that was even necessary, if making a point to talk about this in a longer form would do more harm than good--but ultimately, I feel like anything less will allow people to jump to conclusions and put words in my mouth that I would never say. Ever the control freak, I don't want to give people that chance. If posts like this are to share yourself with the world and hope someone understands you, I want to give you the best chance at comprehension. 

I'm not writing this because I think anything really hinges on me coming out, but rather because I owe it to myself to be fully authentic and to stop living in the margins because I believe it will make others more comfortable. At the end of the day, I am not comfortable with this aspect of my identity being something I hold close until I'm confronted with it. If I truly believe being bisexual--that being anything besides a straight, cisgender person--is not a sin, is not something to be ashamed of, then I owe it to myself to be open about it. No one else's life may be impacted by my authenticity, but my life (the only life I have any real control over) is. 

Of course, authenticity is complicated. My own convictions will not convince anyone that I am anymore real or honest unless they are open to their view of me changing. No matter what I say, some people I love dearly saw the title of this post, saw the word "Pride" and immediately rolled their eyes and scrolled on. This is not an aspect of my identity that will be met with applause by many people I know and love. There are and will continue to be people on all sides who believe that this is a phase, a performative act, that there is no way I truly know what I want or who I love. 

But at the end of the day, that matters less because I do know who I am. My identity is multi-faceted and ever growing, and my sexuality is a component that deeply influences who I am and will continue to be. While I believe that my identity as a child of Heavenly Parents who love me remains paramount, that does not negate the value and reach of other aspects. For example, no one would argue that my artistic nature doesn't shape who I am even as a child of God, and the same is true of my bisexuality.

While I haven't dated any women, my experience as a bisexual woman greatly influences and edifies the way I view relationships. Because my attraction to people isn't limited by gender, I have been able to work through some of the toxic ways relationships get warped by media and culture--particularly LDS dating culture. It's easier to view people as themselves, and build relationships with people over potential when you're aware the likelihood of you dating or falling for them is only an aspect, not the person. I am able to maintain stable and healthy friendships with people of all genders, and I am able to see people as more than their dating potential when I meet them. I also have a strong belief in the importance of platonic relationships that often gets lost within Utah culture, and I do attribute that in large degree to my experience being bisexual. 

My experience as a queer member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has strongly influenced and shaped my faith and how I view religion. I have a deep love for those who feel on the margins of my faith in part because I empathize with them. To be perfectly honest, without the complication of my faith and the way members of the Church treat and respond to the queer community, I would not have any hesitation or fear in coming out. I agonize over the wording of this post primarily because of how it will come across to members of my own religion--that doesn't sit well with me. It hurts to know that much of my faith in Jesus Christ comes from learning to rely on Him to hold me because other people wouldn't; I think we should be leading people to Christ by taking them by the hand and walking with them, not pushing them away. And when it comes to the LGBTQIA+ community, members of my faith do a lot more pushing than walking.

So, to my fellow followers of the LDS faith, I would like to remind you that between my sexuality and my religious affiliation, only one of them is a choice. It is a choice I have made, and plan on continuing to make. However, my sexuality has never been, nor will it ever be, a choice or something I can opt out of experiencing. I am luckier than many in the one that is a choice. As I still experience attraction to men, I don't feel quite the same betrayal to myself because I know I can still find and have a temple marriage where I can be truly happy and fully authentic. But I would never expect or force someone else to make the same choices I have, because it will never stop being a deeply difficult and complicated choice. 

That is my true fear in being fully and totally out. I don't want my choices to become a standard for anyone of my faith to hold others to. I don't want to be put on a pedestal or admired for my faithfulness; I don't want to become what other queer members or former members are held up to. I am simply making the choices I feel drawn towards and good about. I genuinely think that's what just about everyone is doing in this life. I don't think people who leave the LDS Church leave because they "want to sin" or got "tired" of following the rules. I think they are making the choice that they feel can bring about the most good. I can't fault anyone who prioritizes finding happiness, because at the end of the day, I am doing the same thing. Right now, that looks like being openly queer and being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. In ten years, who knows what it will be. 

Whether you knew I was queer or not, if you're reading this and liked me beforehand, absolutely nothing has changed. I was bisexual before, and I am still bisexual now. Nothing you knew about me is less true than it was, you just have a little more context. If you think that fundamentally changes anything about me, that's your prerogative, but I hope you aren't so shallow that you'd believe something like that. 

So in conclusion: Yes, I'm queer. Yes, I'm still a member of the Church. Yes, I think there are some significant complications and difficult questions I frequently confront as I work to reconcile and live happily with both identities. Yes, those are complications and questions I am willing to face. No, this is not the most important aspect of my existence, nor are these the only complications and questions I am currently facing. However, I feel the need to be open with this particular component of my life, because I have known and will continue to know too many people who wonder if it is better to be dead than to be out. Queer youth remain five times more likely to die by suicide because too many people respond to the plea to just let them live by kicking them out, by ignoring their identities, by teaching them that being loved is contingent on being quiet. I cannot stand by and watch that continue to happen. 

Happy Pride Month, to those of you who are out and proud, those who were outed before they were ready, for those who wonder if they will ever be ready. I ache for my friends who have their identity walked over because people can't be bothered to learn a new name or correct the wrong pronouns. I am willing to stay up as long as you need, if you can't sleep and just need someone to hear and see you for you who are. I want you here. I want you sitting at my table. I want a Zion that has you in it, and I will build one where you can feel peace brick by brick if I have to. You have every right to live, you have every right to happiness. You have every right to be you. You are, and that is incredibly powerful and indescribably beautiful. 

It is a good life, I swear it. It can be such a good life. 

                                           (PS. I don't have a girlfriend. But I love this picture)