Learning Bravery

In the time-span on about five days I both admitted to my best friend my feelings for her, and Came Out to my mother.  Surprisingly, the former went a lot rougher than the latter, which is hard to imagine since my best friend and I are still "cool" and nothing between us has really changed. 

I told my mother I an bisexual while in the car with her.  We were alone, and I felt I would get no better chance.  It kind of came out of my mouth in a tumble of "IwanttotellyouI'mbisexual" while she replied with a smile and a steady, unsurprised "I know."

I went on to tell her that her knowing and my telling her are two different things, and then she asked if she should tell my dad (I'm leaving that up to her right now) and then we left it at that.  I was fairly surprised, actually.  I knew she could have handled me being a lesbian, since her sister is a lesbian and I've been raised to be very accepting of gays and lesbians, but I had my doubts about her accepting me being bi. 

When I was in high school I had a friend who was bisexual, and once while I was talking about him and his coming out issues with his father, my mother simply dismissed my friend as "bi today, gay tomorrow." This passive-aggressive ridicule continued until I finally stopped talking about my bi friends and bisexuality as a whole, but the experience left me unable to come to terms with my sexuality for a long time.  Even though I recognize now that my being bisexual first began appearing in early high school, it wasn't until halfway through my sophomore year of college, about five years later, that I was able to finally Come Out.  To my coworkers, that is.  It took another ten months to work up the courage to tell my mother. 


But courage and bravery aren't just Coming Out.  They are standing against jokes and slang that use my sexuality in a derogatory way.  Today, an old friend of mine posted on Facebook this:

I was gonna make a gay joke....

Butt, fuck it.

 I simply couldn't let it sit there, with three likes, and not say anything.  Even though my heart was racing, even though I was putting myself on a platform for ridicule, I replied:

I'm sorry, but I don't find this funny. To me, as a gay person, it is offensive. I know you mean no harm by it, but jokes like these are really uncool and just hurtful. Please be understanding. 

And I left it at that.  There have been no further replies (at this time, though I will keep you updated) and no immediate back-slap for my actions.  

 

I need to thank Andrew McIntosh, my friends, and my boyfriend for helping me become brave.   Without these people, without their support, their encouragement, and their stories, I wouldn't be the person I have been able to become.  Thank you all.