My name is Stitch. When I was in the 6th grade I was attracted to females (me being biologically a female). It was before being bi was even a little bit acceptable. I did not know that being attracted to females was “wrong” to society, I thought my crushes were what was considered normal to usual middle school society.
I guess my story starts the same way as many others. I grew up in a Christian home, believing that homosexuality is a disease and anyone who partakes is willingly “choosing to be sick”. Some of my very earliest memories are of kissing other little girls. And not just pecks on the lips, but full-on French kissing, at maybe 5 or 6 years of age. Hiding under the bed covers, pretending to be reading by torchlight, and getting in trouble from my religious mother for not being in plain view.
I was raised in a very Catholic family. I only attended Catholic schools, including an all girl high school. Being anything other than strictly heterosexual wasn’t just frowned upon but would likely get you sent away from the family so you couldn’t influence the younger children. Heaven help you if the nuns found out!
I was bawling my eyes out on the bumpy road as other preteens giggled and screamed conversations. My friend Niky sat up and peered at me over the seat in between us and asked me why I was crying. I had just come out to another friend, and it hadn’t gone so well. Niky came around the seat and sat down next to me and told me that was stupid. It shouldn’t matter who I liked, and she didn’t care if they were a girl or a boy.
I was thrown out of the closet when I was 16. Here is my story. I met her at school. Her smile drew me in and her warmth and personality made me always want to be around her. We joined the basketball team. Fantastic because not only was it my favorite sport,but it gave me a reason to spend more time with her. We saw each other at school and at practice daily and it wasn’t long before we were spending weekends and other moments together. Then it happened. We met each other in a classroom before class started and had a few moments alone and she kissed me. The moment I had dreamt about and couldn’t wait for had finally arrived.
Before I was queer, I thought I was happy. I was marrying my best friend, I was doing a PhD on something I was deeply curious about, and I had a wonderful group of friends. Then I met her, and it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I went from a world in monochrome to glorious technicolour. She brought this wonderful, harrowing, and profound change in me and my experience of everything. I learned to love more deeply than I knew was possible, and to hurt more intensely, too. The chemistry I felt with her was undeniable, and the connection. I ended my engagement weeks before the wedding, and shortly after started dating her. It was a 2 year rollercoaster of off again on again relationship. We actually had relationship therapy to work out how to break up. We needed it.
I am 62 years old and I have known I was bisexual since the age of 14. In my early teens, in the late 1960’s, anyone who was openly gay or bisexual were called all sorts of names and ridiculed beyond belief, my father used to use the phrases ‘woolly’ for ‘woolly woofter’ and, if he wanted to be really cruel he would call anyone who was gay ‘uphill gardeners’.