Bi the Way, I’m Sure.

A few weeks ago, my best friend said she thought I was gay. She probably thought I wasn’t straight enough to be bisexual.

As if I don’t ask myself this same question over and over every time I find a girl attractive. Am I fully gay? Is my attraction to guys only a subconscious effort to conform to this heteronormative society? To gain some validation? What if I end up marrying a guy and realize years later that I am gay after all and incapable of loving a man?

But every time I see the wind rustling a guy’s short hair, or the smell of a stranger’s cologne, or the twinkle is his eyes, I am assured that if this is not attraction, I don’t know what is.


Yesterday, an acquaintance asked me if I was confused about my sexuality. Maybe I just hadn’t found the right “guy.”

As if I didn’t spend an exuberant amount of time asking myself this very same questions. As if I’ve never feared that all of this was a phase, and I was brainwashed. As if I don’t sometimes wish I was straight so that life would be less complicated, so that I wouldn’t have to face discrimination for whom I choose to love, so that I wouldn’t have to gather courage every morning before I put my pride T-shirt on.

But when I see the dimpled smile of a classmate, or the lyrical laughter of a schoolmate in the cafeteria, I know for sure that I am attracted to these things even if they happen to be from girls.


The process of figuring out one’s sexuality involves rummaging through years of memories of crushes, and questioning the attraction one feels every single damn time. Coming out to oneself alone involves tremendous courage as one often has to deal with one’s inner homophobic devil. If a person is brave enough to come out to you as whatever they’ve figured themselves to be, please at least have the decency to respect their choice, and be grateful for their trust.

You had not been in their shoes. You had not felt how their heart fluttered around a certain person, or how the voice of another made their stomach drop, or how they wished to hold the hand of that one friend of theirs in a more-than-platonic way.

If you had, you would never have doubted.





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You can hardly mention anything I'm not curious about.

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