Growing up, I never had any reason to assume I was anything but straight. Going through elementary school, I would always have little “crushes” on the boys in my class. According to my mom, I had a thing for blondes. It was all typical kid stuff. I can still remember all the names of the boys I thought would one day be my boyfriend.

Despite personally not considering my sexuality, I was well-educated that not all people are straight. My uncle married his now-ex-husband when I was six years old (Massachusetts had legalized gay marriage already.) I didn’t think much of it. I knew my uncle was marrying someone he cared about. Most of the wedding I spent inside their large house, playing with my SpongeBob GameBoy. I had a short attention span, and the wedding felt like it lasted for hours.

The first case of others questioning whether I was straight occurred in middle school. I went to a small Catholic school in my hometown. And when I say small, I mean there were 14 kids in my graduating class by the time I was leaving in 8^th grade. If I was close with the kids, maybe that would have been a pleasant experience for me. However, I was essentially ostracized by the already tight-knit community at that school. They had been together since preschool, and I arrived in fourth grade. I never felt like I fit in. Years later, I asked one of the only girls from that class that I could consider a friend why everyone thought so differently of me. Her answer still makes me laugh to this day. She told me they thought I was a lesbian. A bunch of fourth grade girls treated me differently (at least in the beginning) because of an assumption that they had no way of proving.

Going to this Catholic school gave me insight into how hypocritical the religion’s values can be, especially in regards to LGBT people. God created everyone in his own image, and yet being gay was seen as a sin. Gays would supposedly be going to hell because it wasn’t natural, as if they had any choice in the matter. If I had even thought about my sexuality at that point, school would have been the last place I would discuss my feelings. It’s good I never questioned then. Looking back, I believe it would have made my situation even harder at school.

It was around freshmen year of high school when I started to question my sexuality, but it began with someone else placing the idea into my head. I met a boy in my class named Jamal. This boy was gay. I mean, he was the most effeminate boy I have ever met, and even had a stereotypical high-pitched voice. The moment I met him, I thought “this kid is gay”, and I didn’t have a problem with that.

I found out, though, that he was unaware of his own sexuality at that point. He had had several girlfriends in the past, and considered himself straight. I never personally questioned him, but throughout the year, he’d come to me asking for advice. He was really torn-up inside because he was starting to realize he had feelings for another boy at the school (an openly gay student.) He ended up coming out as bisexual near the end of the school year, but I could tell he wasn’t done “exploring” yet. By the beginning of sophomore year, he was out-loud and proud as a gay young man.

His story and mine have some parallels, but he assisted in propelling mine forward. Once he was officially out, he asked me if I thought I might not be straight. I believe I laughed when he asked. I told him I did not think so, and he asked me why. “I’ve never thought about it.” I admitted. He suggested I think about it, but I attempted to brush it to the side and just focus on school.

The end of my sophomore year was when things became complicated. I was in my school’s drama club all throughout high school, and we had just wrapped up our spring musical. We always had cast parties to celebrate and just hang out together once the show was over, since we would have nothing else to do when it was done. This particular time, for whatever reason, someone took an empty two-liter Coke bottle and suggested we play spin the bottle. Even thought it was just a game, I was nervous to participate. I had been kissed before, but only by one other person. Since we were all friends, and no one was going to judge, I finally decided to play.

The rules were originally that if you spun, and it landed on someone of the same sex, you didn’t have to kiss them. When two of my guy-friends broke the rule, they changed it so you had to kiss whoever it landed on. However, some people could choose to be on the “cheek brigade,” meaning they would only get kissed on the cheek. I chose that route, until it landed on my friend Jamal. I didn’t mind kissing him because he was gay. His lips were surprisingly soft.

My friend Maggie spun next, and it landed on me. I was expecting her to kiss my cheek, but she went right for my lips. I’m sure the kiss only lasted a few seconds at most, but it felt like time had stopped for me. I can’t describe the feelings that were going through my mind. My heart leapt in my chest, similar to the first time I had kissed my first boyfriend. I could feel myself blushing, and I was thankful it was dark in the basement. We broke up the game when my friend’s parents came downstairs to check on us, and I was in a fog the rest of the night.

I never spoke to anyone about how I had felt. Instead, I tried to sort it out in my head. Why had I had that kind of reaction? I suddenly went from never thinking about my sexuality, to that being the only thing on my mind. I knew I wasn’t a lesbian, because I still had feelings for boys, but I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t bisexual. I knew how many negative views people had of bisexuals (my mom had expressed a few times that she figured all bisexual people were just sex-crazed) so I tried to talk myself out of these feelings.

The first time I really began to think positively about the way I had been feeling was when same-sex marriage was legalized in all of the U.S. Although at the moment it didn’t affect me personally, I thought it was amazing that we had finally made progress towards equal rights. If this subject was no longer taboo, maybe it would be okay for me to finally be open with myself. I was just going into my senior year of high school.

I was still hesitant to tell anyone, but made myself talk to my mother first. I don’t know how I expected her to react, since she’s pretty open-minded, but I was panicking as I asked her if we could talk. It took me about a half hour to finally get to what I was trying to say, that I believed I was bisexual. On top of this, I was also trying to explain that I had a crush on the only openly-trans* boy at my school. She took it so well, and asked me to explain things that she didn’t understand. Some of the sexuality terms still went over her head, but she was trying to understand. That meant so much to me.

Next came the part that terrified me the most: telling my father. He’s open-minded, as well, but I was concerned he would think of me differently after he found out. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, so that thought scared me. What made it worse was the fact that my dad had gone to San Francisco for a business trip around the time I was figuring everything out, and I didn’t have a chance to tell him until two weeks later. By this point, I had three things to tell him. 1) I had a boyfriend. 2) My boyfriend is transgender. 3) I’m bisexual. I essentially bombarded him the day he got home. The first thing he said was “I can’t leave again, or when I come back, you’ll tell me you’re pregnant!” I couldn’t stop laughing. He took it just as well as my mom, and was really nice when he met my boyfriend (who was terrified of him, because he’s 5’10 with a very full beard.)

Telling my friends took a little longer, which was strange because I knew that they were fine with bisexuals. Most of my friends were bi themselves. It was my best friend that I was most worried to tell. When we were sitting in class (our desks were next to each other) I wrote her a note. I read it over several times before ripping it up. No, I had to tell her in person. She could tell something was off, and when she asked me, I finally just said it. Her reaction was basically “Okay. And?” It helped me relax.

I started to realize that I was the only one who had thought negatively about my sexuality. No one else was bothered by it, or even cared, essentially. I had nothing to worry about, and I never feel the need to tell someone that I am bisexual, unless they ask. Especially at Emerson, I really feel like I belong somewhere.