This past October 11th, the nation celebrated National Coming Out Day. According to the Human Rights Campaign, National Coming Out Day is observed on the anniversary of the 1987 National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights A wave of awareness and sought-out equality for the same cause occured last week, but through the venue of social media. For one day, posts with the hashtag #NationalComingOutDay and all its variants populated Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, etc.; thousands of coming out stories full of love, acceptance, hardship, struggles, and everything in between proliferated the internet to an outpouring of support. Of course, coming out on the day is optional. So is the idea of coming out entirely; it is the individual's choice to come out to themselves and to their loved ones. As an individual who has recently come out as bisexual to others - because coming out on Facebook always works out! (The previous fragment of a sentence should be read with extreme facetiousness) - I made that choice.

It was because of the day itself. I couldn't think of a better day, of a better week, or a better year to do it. The day, and what the day means to so many people, was a big impetus in of itself. I had to be festive, am I right? It wasn't a deadline, or anything official. It didn't have to be. It was a firm suggestion. A suggestion of the strongest sort.

It was because I recognized the need in myself to come out. This year, I've worked to become the most authentic version of myself that I can be: I've worked on my (quiet) leadership skills; I've tried to make new friends and try new things; I've stepped into (proverbial) professional shoes; I've continued to do my best in grad school; and, as of last week, I've come out as bisexual.

It was because I wanted to be true to myself, and to others. If that meant losing friends and family, it was soul-crushing. It was fine. Soul-crushingly fine.

It was because I had the choice. In a previous article, I mentioned how I wouldn't come out. I didn't feel as if I had a choice, in the wake of tragedy. Over time, I realized that it wasn't the case. I recognize(d) what a privilege it was for me to come out in the first place: when I came out, I had a bevy of support and love through my family and friends. It was a beautiful, freeing experience. I know that my experience is not the norm, and I wish that it wasn't the case. We all (the collective we, the royal we, the normative we, the we of humanity in all forms/shapes/sizes/ages/colors/degrees/accents/partisans/orientations) still have a lot of work to do. Intolerance is everywhere, and it is an unnecessary resource that is cultivated through hate and indifference. In terms of accepting others, accepting those that are different from ourselves, we can grow. We can do better.