Other than RTing some tweets and sharing selected Facebook
posts, I haven’t reacted much publicly about the massacre in Orlando at Pulse
nightclub. My default mode when I get overloaded with emotion is to withdraw
and try to process things at my own pace, but the attack has deeply affected me—moreso
than even the Boston Marathon bombings, because as a bisexual woman this one
hit closer to home.
My bisexuality may actually be news to some family members
and friends (though I’ve never made a secret of it), but I consider this post
more of a reaching out than a coming out. Because in some ways over the years,
I’ve acted more like an ally of the LGBT community than an active member of
that community, and with this tragedy comes the impetus to stop minimizing my
voice. And to reach out.
While I hadn’t always felt welcomed by the gay community as
a bi woman in my 20s (I was once told that bisexual women are only gay when it
suits them, and able to “pass” the rest of the time—with the implication that
bi people can never understand what it means to be gay), I have been so
encouraged by the strides that have been made in civil rights and for all LGBT
people.
And especially among writers of YA, I’ve found a sense of
belonging both within the pages they’ve written, and their openness about
telling their own truths. They’ve
helped me to feel more secure in my identity,
even though as a woman married to a man, my own bisexuality felt like a less
relevant part of my identity for a time.
And no, I haven’t been spared over the years from worries
about how I would be perceived as a bisexual or lesbian—I was shocked when my
otherwise-progressive Dad and stepmom hid from my younger brother that another
family member was transitioning. Why was that so difficult for them to explain,
and what did they fear would happen if they did? Speaking for myself, I am so
heartened by my niece’s courage to live and love as she sees fit—but also
heartbroken for her every time she gets harassed on a train or passed up for
jobs.
And the water aerobics class that I attend with about 15
other (older) women, who have been so supportive through all my health challenges—will
they feel differently about sharing a locker room with me as a bisexual? In
spite of the fact that we’ve shared a locker room for over ten years and I’ve
never hit on anyone?
Places like Pulse are havens for LGBT people to be
themselves, and to not feel like an “other.” They will only become more
important in the days to come, as all of us—all of us Americans—try to wrap our
heads around the events in Orlando, and whether they will eventually yield
positive changes for tolerance.
I’m still processing a lot of the heartbreak myself, but did
manage to catch a guest on Capital Public Radio from Equality Florida, and he
mentioned that his group has started a Go Fund Me for the families of the
victims, to cover funerals and other expenses. If you’d like to contribute, it’s
at https://www.gofundme.com/PulseVictimsFund
