I started to identify as bisexual midway through a loving heterosexual relationship with a cisgender man, which may seem odd but I guess sometimes when you know you know! However, it did set me off on a rather strange path in terms of how I view myself as a member of the LGBTQ+ community. I’d like to preface all of this by saying I am so unbelievably lucky to have never had to face any discrimination because of my sexuality. This article is simply a pride-month-inspired series of reflections on my personal experience with finding my place in the LGBTQ+ community and is in no way universal.

I am a white, middle-class, 20-year-old cis woman who has only ever dated cis men, so it’s safe to say I’ve heard the ‘you’re just bi for attention’ line a fair few times, both before and after I’d been with girls. Again, I would never claim this to be a serious struggle of mine, but I would be lying if I said it hadn’t impacted how I present myself to the outside world. From clothing to culture, I’ve spent the last 6 years trying to understand where my personality stops being authentic and starts being a bizarre attempt at shoehorning myself into the queer community. The self-destructive and mildly biphobic part of my mind always says I have to find the balance between being myself and looking ‘gay enough’, because otherwise my sexuality just isn’t valid.

“The self-destructive and mildly biphobic part of my mind always says I have to find the balance between being myself and looking ‘gay enough’, that otherwise my sexuality just isn’t valid”

Let me give you a simple Pride Month themed example. Every year, I fall into all this corporate nonsense and buy as much rainbow-themed merchandise as possible. I spend about 2 hours a day browsing Lucy&Yak and raiding Depop for as many ironic graphic tees as I can find. I walk down the street with one hand holding my boyfriend’s and the other clutching my rainbow tote bag from Tiger as if to shout ‘I’m one of you I swear!’ Not only is this terrible for my bank account, but it always leads to a rollercoaster of self-reflection. On the one hand, wearing my rainbow dresses and high topped converse does make me feel more like myself than most things do, but on the other, I always see it as some desperate attempt to fit in. Unfortunately, this tightrope walk of existence does not end on the 30th of June, when the flags are stashed away and CEOs change their company’s rainbow Linkedin banner, so let’s dig a little deeper.

I have been exposed to ‘Queer Culture’ my entire life, thanks to my parents’ friends, the media, and the luxury of growing up in a circle where queerness was accepted and acceptable. When I came out to myself, I found solace in these outlets that valued creativity and shared my confusion about the roots of heteronormativity in our society. Although I was lucky enough to not need its support, the LGBTQ+ community was there to remind me that I wasn’t an outsider just because I had a crush on Stacey as well as Steve. However, looking a little further I found that the biphobia I faced from my straight friends ran rife in this world too, with bisexuals being seen as ‘fake’ or ‘indecisive’, especially if they haven’t been in a queer relationship. This immediately sent my anxiety-riddled brain into a panic. What if they were right? What if I was being fake? What if this was all an elaborate ploy to get boys’ attention?

“I had the dawning realisation that maybe… just maybe… my sexuality was more than a trend but instead a completely personal matter that had nothing to do with other people’s opinions”

These what-ifs droned on and on to the point where enough was enough, I had to take action. The most logical response to finally get the validation I so craved was to date someone of a different gender, but by some evil twist of fate, I just keep falling in love with men before anyone else can get a word in. It’s a real struggle. As an alternative, I decided to embrace my inner nerd and hit the books to learn as much about the intricacies of the LGBTQ+ community as possible. From academic queer theory to Drag Race and everything in between, I spent months immersing myself in this world to see where I fit into it. On this journey, I learnt a manifold of different things, from empowering political history to hair and makeup tips, but somehow I couldn’t find the magical secret recipe for being bi. A spoonful of cuffed jeans? A glass of heteronormative relaitonships? A splash of hair dye? I just couldn’t find the balance.

Then it hit me. Suddenly, and without warning, I had the dawning realisation that maybe… just maybe… my sexuality was more than a trend but instead a completely personal matter that had nothing to do with other people’s opinions? Imagine that.

I realised there was more to my sexuality than how the outside world perceives it. Being bisexual doesn’t have to be about what clothes I wear or what music I listen to. I don’t have to fit all the stereotypes, but I don’t have to reject them all either. I don’t have to prove my queerness at gay passport control or justify my preferences. I can be loved and validated just for being myself.

It’s taken me a while to get here and I’m sure my journey’s not over, but for now I can say I’m happy with my boyfriend-having, tote bag-carrying queer existence and wouldn’t have it any other way.