Hi, I’m Jade.
I’m from Australia, I have two cats and I like the colour purple.
I am also a raging bisexual.
Well, kind of? I have always struggled with my identity. I’m engaged to a man, I’m dating a woman.
My fiance is the only man I am particularly attracted to, but I fall down at every other woman that passes me on the street. Am I an imposter? For years, I felt like one. Sometimes I still do. But, before we get into that, we should go back to the beginning.
When I was 10, I discovered the Pirates of the Caribbean series. More accurately, I discovered Keira Knightley in the Pirates of the Caribbean series.
I was positively smitten – although I didn’t know that’s what it was. I just dreamed about her, and pretended to be her bestest friend in the entire world, and played make believe where it was me she came to rescue = not that dumb Will Turner.
Now, I grew up in an extremely conservative, abusive family. For as long as I can remember, I was teased and taunted by my parents. They would tell me that I was gay, hurl it at me like a rock expected to bruise.
They would corner me and accuse me of being a lesbian, tell me that it would be ‘no surprise’ if I were. The ‘no surprise’ always came with a level of derogatory disappointment from my father. My mother liked to play pretend at the support. She liked to act as though she’d be there when the curtain fell, if I ever told her I were a lesbian, a bisexual, or any part of the queer community.
Still, every time she looked me right in the eye and smirked like she’d already folded me up to fit in her perfect little box, and said, ‘You’re going to be gay when you grow up,’ it sounded like an insult.
The words got stuck in my ten, twelve, fifteen year old brain like worms, and gnawed away at parts of me. The undertone of these messages: Gay was a bad word, and not a thing you should be. I was taught to be “a good kid”, to never make waves. There was nothing I wanted so desperately as to be “normal”. So, I squished these feelings. I tucked them away in a secret compartment of my mind; the shame compartment.
I told myself, I couldn’t be gay. It was too hard. Coming out was too much.
I had few friends through school; much preferring my own company and that of my books. The few I did have were queer, and happy, and healthy, and luckily, had supportive parents. I remember wondering what that must feel like, and then reminding myself: you’re not gay, don’t be dumb. So, I set about not being gay.
Little did I know, I had a crush on a girl at my high school. You know the type of girl – who tips their head to the sky when they laugh, and seem like every 2014 Tumblr dream of pastels and daisies.
The girl who smells like jasmine. For years, I stalked her social media, watched her at school, envied her. I thought I wanted to be her.
It wasn’t until years later that I realised I wanted to be with her.
I never really had crushes on boys. I had a few “relationships” when I was 11 and 14. They were as serious as relationships between 11 year olds usually are. Still, I hit all the “stereotypical” milestones. I lost my virginity to a boy when I was 17. I dated a guy when I was 18 through 20. But then, the most amazing thing happened. I got kicked out of home.
I was never welcomed back. And it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was also one of the worst, but that’s a story for a separate occasion.
I moved into a house on the beach, and I downloaded Tinder.
For the first few weeks, I was too scared to delve into the space I so desperately wanted to occupy. Sex was fun, sure. But when I was wine-drunk at 3am, I would switch my Tinder to women – only and admire how soft and precious and beautiful they all were, only to tell myself in the morning that was ridiculous.
Until, one wine-drunk night, I began the ritual, and this time, I swiped. I swiped on a couple, because I was still not fully convinced of my sexuality, not fully okay with it within myself. They came to my house, we made falafels, we watched Rocky Horror Picture Show, and, well, dot dot dot. I couldn’t lie to myself after that.
And so, we end up here. In Canada, where I am dating a woman and marrying a man. And that, honestly, is how I came out to the people who were important in my life. By not coming out. I explained my relationship, and that was that. I am the happiest I have ever been, with my people, and my cats. Following gorgeous women and non-binary folk on social media, feeling comfortable enough to acknowledge that, yeah, I love my fiance with all of my heart and I think he is the hottest man alive, but I love women.
For so long, I struggled with my identity. I’d be lying if I said I don’t still have my days, because I do.
But, I am also here to tell you that it does get better, it does get easier. The sad reality is a lot of us have unsupportive families. The happier truth is that we manage to find our own families in the wake
of that grief. All of you who have come out, who have not yet, who aren’t sure whether they should, or what they identify as, or if it even matters, I see you, I hear you, you are valid. Take your time. The world will be waiting when you’re ready.
Catch Jade’s column on the 1st of every month.