I was painfully aware of my sexuality by age thirteen. I may
not have known the word bisexual then, given my sheltered upbringing in Asia,
but I had admitted to myself that I was unequivocally attracted to men as well
as women. This admission, however, did not evolve into a full acceptance of
self for years to come. I initially told myself that I could keep my attraction
to men buried and hidden, and live my life pretending to be straight.
I had not diverged from this mindset when our family moved
back to Europe a few years later. It was here that I first learned the word bisexual,
and realised that it applied to me. Finally, I didn't have to be the weird gay
boy who liked women, which is how I had described myself till then. In a way,
having a word to describe my sexuality forced me to face it. I began to
scrutinise my attractions, and realised just how much they confused me. I was certain that I was attracted to both men and women.
Beyond that, everything was a mess, and describing my attractions through a coherent paragraph of text is still too difficult for me. Simplifying greatly, I can say that my physical and emotional attractions towards both men and women fluctuated considerably. This was very frustrating and even today, my
attractions towards the two sexes are not constant. But I understand what drives them better now, and am mostly at peace with their
dynamic nature. I won't delve into this further now, as I believe the dynamics
of my bisexuality merit a post of their own.
Unfortunately, the confusion from my fluctuating attractions persisted for a long time, and hindered my acceptance of my own
bisexuality. However, my
struggles were not just internal as my home environment presented its own set of external problems. I was challenged not by any form of homophobia, but rather by my parents' even more restrictive beliefs. According to them, only a woman from a certain
religious and cultural background would make an acceptable wife for me. Far off
in the future of course, perhaps when I was 24. And I was to just sit, wait and twiddle my thumbs until then. Fortunately, this is not how my life played out, and at fourteen I found myself dating my first girlfriend. Everything was light, airy and happy for a while. On top of that, having a girlfriend seemed to lock me into heterosexual mode, and hey, I wasn't going to complain. But this relatively bright period of my life ended when my parents found out about her. To say they took the news badly would be an understatement. I can't recall exactly every line they threw at me over the next week, but somewhere in there they managed to warn me that "white people" might beat me up on the streets at any time for dating a "white girl". Without giving me a chance to recover from the shock of finding out that my parents thought we were living in apartheid South Africa, they went on to ask me why I would get involved with a girl whose family we knew nothing about. And then just as I was starting to worry that they wanted to to marry me off to this girl as punishment, they asserted that fifteen-year-olds were children who shouldn't have relationships, and completely stonewalled the topic of adolescent feelings and attractions.