“You were always a little gay,” she said. I smiled back at her, feeling a sense of relief at my ex-girlfriend’s acceptance.
She was the first in a continuous stream of people to call me “a little gay” throughout my coming-out journey. About a year ago, I began to self-identify as bisexual and share my revelation with those closest to me. I hate to be cliché, but if I had a nickel for every time I heard “you were always a little gay,” I would certainly have quite the coin collection.
The response didn’t come as a surprise to me. Growing up, my love of musical theater and flair for the dramatic certainly pegged me as one of the more flamboyant of my friends. From a very young age, Speedos were my swimsuit of choice, and I was (and still very much am) obsessed with all things Beyoncé. But maybe more than anything, my “little bit gay” assignment came from the way I looked at handsome men walking down the street. I definitely stared with a little more longing than the straight “Oh, I can see how that guy could be attractive to some women.”
When I first started hearing, “You were always a little gay,” I loved it. As a newly identified bisexual, I felt like I was being accepted. I felt like this person knew me, even before I really knew me. They spotted my attraction to men before I did, and my fear of being judged, shamed, and misrepresented started to disappear.
But the more I started hearing this response and the more I explored my attractions to both men and women, this response became unbearable to hear. Each reacting smile became less and less genuine. What does that even mean? Always a little gay. I’m not a little gay. I’m not gay at all. I didn’t mention the word gay once while coming out.
I knew their intentions were pure, coming from a loving and nonjudgmental place. I knew they were just trying to tell me we were close friends and that because of that, my news was nothing that shocked them, but I still couldn’t help but become increasingly irritated with each response.
They just don’t know what to say when a bisexual person comes out to them. They think it’s like a gay person coming out. They don’t realize how it’s different, I would tell myself. Maybe it’s the wording that’s upsetting me. They just meant to say it’s not surprising that I also like men. And they’re right. It’s not that surprising at all.
But sometimes I would get really pissed off. What? So they think that because I had some stereotypical gay mannerisms, they knew I was bisexual? Um … no, they obviously did not.
I would try to calm myself, but it never worked. I began to leave every coming-out situation when I heard I “always seemed a little gay” feeling tense, even when the tone was unconditional support.
Looking back on it now, I realized something. At no point when confronted with the response “you’ve always been a little gay” did I ever think to correct them. To inform them. Instead I stewed in my frustration, rather than use this opportunity to express what it’s like to be bi. What bisexual really means. How it’s different. How it’s challenging. How it can be really tough to date both gay and straight people. How people don’t believe your sexuality exists. Or how many people assume that it’s a mere stepping stone to being full-blown gay.
So I’m doing it now. Better late than never, right? Being bi is different from being gay. Bisexuality is not the middle ground between gay and straight. And it’s not being a little gay and a little straight. No, I was never a little gay, but I’ve always been a lot bi.
