I am Black, I am a woman and I am…

Well, you see I’ve never actually “come out.”

I like boys and I like girls, and that’s just is what it is. When I write it down it sounds simple, but we all know it’s so much more complex than that. When I was around 11, I was (and still am) kinda tomboyish, and I just wasn’t really interested in boys… or girls, at that time, whatsoever. All I wanted to do was to play video games and go to the park and play and shit. Someone in my girl squad made up a rumour that I tried to “get with” her. It was so hurtful, not because of what she said but because she lied on me. I knew what it was to be a lesbian or gay, but in my mind, it was just something some people were – neither good nor bad. But the way they called me: “lesbian”, the way they bullied me and outcasted me from the group taught me that not only was being a lesbian bad but that it carried with it dire social implications.

This early “lesson” was reinforced as I grew up. I heard the pastor of our church say that being gay is a sin. I heard pejorative words and West Indian slang roll of the tongues of people like it was nothing. I heard loud whispers in my family and around the neighbourhood when people would come out like: “You know such and such ‘goes that way’” or “You know that boy’s a little sweet” with screwed up, disapproving faces. It was cemented in my consciousness that Gay = Wrong, that it was damn-near a curse.

“I knew I would have to accept something that I already knew deep down inside”

As I entered my teens, I started to like boys, so I was straight (I mean that both literally and colloquially). But I also found myself “interested” in girls. “But wait, no! You don’t like-like her, you just admire her. You just recognize that she’s pretty or interesting. You just want to be like her. You just want to be friends with her.” I wouldn’t even allow myself to ask the “right” questions: “Do you want to touch her? Do you want to kiss her?” Perhaps because I if I did, I knew I would have to accept something that I already knew deep down inside. But at the same time, what did I know? As far as I understood things at that point in time you were either straight or gay – there was no in-between.

I joined the US Army National Guard (the reserves) when I was 17. It was illegal to be gay and in the military at that time, which added a layer of legal suppression of my sexual exploration on top of the already-existent palatable social ostracization I felt. I had gay and lesbian friends in the military who had to live double lives and risked being dishonourably discharged from the service for being themselves and being in love. I don’t know if you know, but being dishonourably discharged from the military has similar implications to that of being a felon in the US. It makes it difficult to find a job, find housing, etc. It was really fucked up for them, but at least I liked boys so I was good though, right?

“I felt like a friend of the community, like an advocate, not a member”

With all of that said, I have still ALWAYS found myself in gay and lesbian spaces (I know the proper term is LGBTQIA+ but this is a reflective piece, and this is what we called them back then). I snuck into gay clubs with friends all the time when I was in high school. I had a short-lived career in burlesque and would perform in drag clubs and at queer nights. I was at the Pride parade EVERY year turning up. I was in all-women creative collectives that intersected race with sexuality and identity. I even lived in Boystown in Chicago for five years, the oldest officially recognized gay neighbourhood in the US. And I absolutely loved all of it. When I was in these spaces, I felt that I was more of myself than I had previously allowed myself to be, but even still I felt like a friend of the community, like an advocate, not a member.

I remember when the word bisexual became more mainstream. It felt so controversial in and out of the gay community. I used to hear things like “being bi is being greedy” or “being bi is a pitstop to gay” or “being bi is a phase,” – like the whole narrative of girls “experimenting” in college – or that “all bi girls grow up to marry men.” And I’m one of those girls who grew up to marry a man, which I’ve been told means that I’ve picked a side by some in the LGBTQIA+ community.

I absolutely love my husband – he is my lover, my partner and truly my friend. He is the second person who I have ever said: “I like girls” to. Now, I’ve had my experiences with girls, and I don’t care to go into great details here, but I have never had a girlfriend. Because of the way I have suppressed that part of me or rather because of the way that part of me has been suppressed, I never allowed myself the opportunity to take things to that level with a woman because I knew that would be true admission of my bisexuality. And I sometimes wonder how many opportunities for love and true connections I have missed because of this fear.

“You are still a part of us”

When I was asked to share my story, I was honoured, but also intimidated. Not because I was afraid of saying all of this out loud but because I wasn’t sure that my story would be inspiring, that it would give people guidance, encouragement, pride or hope. But perhaps it will give some people insight and others who see themselves within my narrative comfort in knowing that stories like theirs do exist. Many of us marginalized people have suppressed pieces of ourselves (not just our sexualities) so that we can better navigate the societies in which we live. Many people have lived or are currently living decidedly heteronormative lives to make things “easier” for themselves and I understand that. But I want you to know that regardless of this, I see you and you are still a part of us.

Coming out stories