Allow Me To Reintroduce Myself

“Tell me everything,” my sister said to me over plates of Chinese takeaway. “I want details.”

“Well, there’s not much to say,” I replied after I finished chewing a mouthful of scalding hot tofu. “I told mom that I was bisexual, and she seemed to take it well.”

I never had crushes on anyone while growing up. The small conservative town I grew up in boasted few options for a young feminist hell-bent on growing up and moving away to a larger city. However, over time, I had come to the realization that I may not be like the other girls in my class.

“I think I might be a lesbian,” I said while leaning over to my best friend. We were on the playground, but I was thinking seriously about my life and about who I was as a person.

“I don’t think so Jas,” my friend said. “You thought that boy was cute for a while. You might be confusing liking girls for wanting to be like them?” She knew about gay people and had no problem with it, but she also knew about the one guy I had a crush on when we were twelve.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re right,” I responded still unconvinced.

I didn’t know at the time that anyone was allowed to like more than one gender, and growing up in a Catholic school most of my life and then heading off to a Christian high school didn’t help with my lack of LGBTQ education. I spent the rest of high school occasionally convinced that I was straight until my senior year.