To tell you the truth, this is one of my several attempts at writing this. I tried being very deep and emotionally powerful by combining my life as a bisexual woman with my suffering and insecurities and struggles. I tried intermixing my realisations from my past and present into my experiences of being openly bi. It’s like if you want me to be deep about body issues, sure, I’m the woman you’re looking for. If you want me to talk about bullying, I gotcha. Family issues? Being an Indian with dark skin? Fat-shaming? Mental health? Politics? Kindness? Friendship? Loneliness? You got me, boo.
But if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I deserve to be deep about my experience as a bisexual, because that aspect of my has been the easiest to deal with. Sure, I’m not out to my family, so that’s a struggle waiting for me in the future. But in my life as a social being? I’ve had it pretty easy. I wasn’t required to come out to my three closest friends from school because, with them, I had the luxury of trust and understanding, so they just knew, without anyone making a big deal out of it. When I actually did make a big deal out of coming out to my friends in college, in an over the top dramatic revelation during my group presentation, I again had the luxury of respect and acceptance, wherein strangers were proud of me for doing that. I get to work with one of the most fascinating online magazines for desi queers. I even developed a crush on a straight girl but managed to be rational about my attraction and not cause myself a heartbreak!
What more could I ask for?
My imposter syndrome is so overwhelming that sometimes it makes me doubt whether I even deserve to call myself bisexual. What have I done that qualifies me to share my story as a bisexual on any platform? Sometimes, I wish that someone was being biphobic to me in real life so that I could fight with them and spill facts and be loud. So that I can feel any semblance of actually being a part of this community and not feel like an intruder who doesn’t deserve to be here. Some days I feel like I’m an imposter in my own story, because what good will it bring? The stories that I have read, of unflinching confidence and unwavering dedication to bring justice and to change the world, they make me wonder if I’ll ever be one of those people who help in that fight, with my mediocre attempt at a battle which isn’t a battle at all, because no one was oppressing me, particularly for my sexuality.
Don’t get me wrong, I am truly grateful for everyone who’s accepted me and I feel privileged to be able to accept it for myself. We love to see stories tearful embraces and honest confessions. But I guess when you generally have to fight for most things in your life and you get this one thing easily, without much controversy, you tend to equate your worth based on the strenuous achievement of self-satisfaction. That if it came easy to me, I don’t think I actually deserve it.
That’s my truth. I don’t know how else to share my story, because there isn’t much of a story there. I have fought more for other queers I know than I have had to fight for myself. Maybe if I keep doing that, fighting for others in this community and helping them to overcome their insecurities, maybe then I might feel like I have earned the right to belong in there. If I know that my words, my help, my support, my voice, might end up empowering someone else, even if it’s one person, maybe then I can have the luxury of feeling good about myself without any impending guilt of being undeserving.
Until then, we have got a lot of work to do.