When I was in fifth grade, a new girl came to our elementary school. Her name was Amy*. By the next year, my young confused heart was completely enthralled with her. She had long blond hair and beautiful blue eyes. She was also the most creative person I'd ever met. She was perfect. I was so confused at that time. Why in the world was I thinking about being with a girl when I was only twelve and I was supposed to be interested in boys? Because God intended me to be different.
By the time I reached seventh grade I was still very much confused. I obviously wasn't straight as an arrow. But, I wasn't gay … was I? I learned later that year about all the terms that go with sexuality. There was a place for me . . . an in between. There was a label for me: bisexual.
My two best friends found out almost instantly. Aria* and Lauren* had very different views. Aria could have cared less and Lauren was quite pleased. Lauren spent the greater part of her time flirting with me, so I flirted back. Soon middle school was over and it was time to enter the scary world of high school. That summer I tried to explain to my divorced parents about my finding. My father was a little bewildered but quite accepting. My mother was a completely different story. I didn't have the courage to tell her outright, so I wrote her a letter. When she found out in the letter, she was completely shocked. I didn't understand why. It was just the fact that I liked both genders. So what? The first questions she asked were "How do you know?" and "Are you SURE?" I was bewildered by these questions. What the hell was that? What did she mean "how do I know"? How did she know she was strictly hetero? I left the conversation feeling angry with my mother. I didn't talk with her about it for nearly a year. She was one of those infamous parents that says, "It's just a phase."
Freshman year came and I found myself more attracted to Lauren. Not much really happened with her that year. We had one incident where we kissed and that was all. I must have reached my pleasure quota for the year. Sophomore year eventually rolled around and it was time for another talk with my mother. I gave it to her in the form of a movie I had taped about coming out. This time I had the backing of all my gay friends from stage crew. I had heard all the stories of how they had told their parents and how their parents had reacted. Needless to say, my mother asked the same questions. I wanted to scream at her. Once again, I left angry. I told my dad everything and he told me that he had talked to her. He told me that she had said that she "understood but wasn't willing to accept it." I wanted to choke her. Why couldn't she just UNDERSTAND?
I am still in my sophomore year and I have finally gotten together with Lauren. She is a wonderful girl. Now there's only one thing left to do . . . to tell my mother. This is dedicated to all who have experienced the "It's just a phase" speech.
*names have been changed