I identify as bisexual, but many people might not see it. Living a life that fits neatly into heteronormative expectations often makes me feel unworthy of claiming that identity. I haven’t experienced harassment, nor have I fought for my rights in the same way many in the LGBTQIA community have had to. I got married without hurdles, and public displays of affection with my partner have never raised eyebrows. I never had to come out to my family. This privilege leads me to doubt my place under the LGBTQIA umbrella, yet the “B” is there, and it represents me.
I’m a “passing” bisexual. I often hear misconceptions about bisexuality—that it’s a fabrication, a cry for attention, or merely a sign of indecisiveness or heightened libido. These notions are not true for me. I’m bi because I’m genuinely attracted to both men and women. Sometimes I voice this, but often I don’t. That’s part of my privilege; I can choose when to disclose my identity, unlike many others who don’t have that luxury.
It wasn’t until my mid-thirties that I truly recognized my bisexuality, sparked by my interest in writing girl/girl erotica. Suddenly, years of feelings—those “girl crushes” I dismissed as just phases—came rushing back. I realized I had an attraction to women alongside men, perhaps even stronger than I had acknowledged. There’s a desire within me to explore that aspect of my identity, though various life circumstances prevent me from acting on it.
Yet, to the outside world, I am invisible within the LGBTQIA community. I’m a cisgender woman married to a cisgender man, raising three kids. We fit the mold of a traditional family, with all the trappings: a minivan, a suburban home, and weekend hikes. We wear activewear and cheer for our favorite football teams. No one suspects that a soccer mom might find other soccer moms attractive.
Many women recognize their sexuality early on, often entering same-sex relationships. However, research shows that sexual identity can evolve throughout a person’s life, particularly for women who may experience more fluid attractions. Yes, it is entirely possible to discover one’s bisexuality later in life. I’m part of an online community of women who have had similar late realizations, and we often discuss the loneliness that can accompany our experiences.
This sense of erasure extends to events like Pride Parades. Despite proudly wearing a rainbow shirt that proclaimed, “Becoming Me Was The Greatest Creative Project of My Life,” I was accompanied by my husband and kids, leading many to assume I was simply an ally rather than part of the community. I understand this assumption; I would have made the same one.
Coming out to my husband was a pivotal moment for me, though it was met with confusion and disbelief. When you discover a new facet of your identity, you want to celebrate it, to announce it to the world. Yet, the thought of placing a bisexual flag on my minivan makes me hesitate—my in-laws would be far from understanding.
I have started to introduce the concept of sexual fluidity to my kids in a casual way. I once mentioned, “I could marry a girl,” as I discussed their potential futures. They accepted this without question, which gave me a fleeting sense of visibility.
For those in similar situations, it’s essential to understand that your identity doesn’t diminish because of your circumstances. If you’re navigating these feelings, know that you’re not alone. For more on this topic, you can check out this blog post on home insemination here or visit Healthline for valuable resources about pregnancy and home insemination. Additionally, Make A Mom is a great authority on the subject.
Summary
Identifying as bisexual can feel challenging within a heteronormative framework, especially when societal assumptions erase that aspect of one’s identity. Discovering bisexuality later in life can be isolating, yet it does not invalidate one’s experiences or feelings. Visibility and acceptance—both personally and within families—are crucial for those navigating similar journeys.