“Growing up I never really had a lot of questions about my sexuality. It was never really a huge topic of discussion and I was never really comfortable having those kinds of conversations with my parents. I still liked women but I never tried to be with a man before. I’d had some sexual experiences with a friend before but it was nothing I’d ever really tried to understand or took seriously—oddly it just seemed a little normal.
It wasn’t until I met someone my freshman year of college that I stopped questioning myself and knew that I was bisexual. He was wonderful, and he made me happy. He told me at the time that he was bisexual. It wasn’t until after that conversation that I became comfortable with identifying as bisexual. My friends were very supportive for the most part, but they treated me like just another one of the gays. Though it felt nice to have friends who understood me to a degree, I felt invisible; I felt like my same-sex attraction made me be perceived as someone I wasn’t.
My family, more specifically my mom, wasn’t helpful to any degree. She’d always said things like “I’d still love you if you were gay.” At some point she even barked at me, “YOU GAY??” I answered her honestly, “No.” The guy I met would come over sometimes and we’d spend time together away from school. One day she asked me if he was gay. I told her, “No, he’s bisexual.” She looked at me—I was trying to focus my gaze elsewhere—“Are you bisexual?” I told her, “Yes.” Her immediate response was: Why would you do this to me? From that moment forward I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. She treated it like a taboo, like a sickness, or bad memory that you never wish to speak of. Any of my partners were my friends if they were male.
As the time went on I’d have to convince my straight friends that I was bisexual. My best friend since 6th grade even doubted my claim to my sexuality. My mother continued to say things like that’s nasty and you need to choose, pick one or the other. For a while I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know any other bisexual people, only gay people. I felt very alone in a crowd of people that were supposed to be supportive.
Looking back on it all, as I tell #MyStoryOUTLoud, being bisexual was never a problem that I had to deal with. Everyone else made it a problem for themselves. I tell my story in hopes that others can do what I never had the courage to do for myself back then: stand up for who you are. Do not let others beat you down because they simply can’t understand. Live in your truth and with the love you have because it will take you farther than you realize. Most importantly make sure that you turn that love inward before you try and turn it outward.”
Gerrard D., Graduate Student- American University
I knew Howard University was the school for me when I attended Youth Pride in Dupont Circle during my senior year of high school and amongst the predominantly white table vendors, I was shocked to see a table full of beautiful, black queer people representing one of the most distinguished historically black universities in the country. Their overwhelming warmth and love for me convinced me that Howard was the emblem of progression in the black community. Though I was not totally disappointed, especially after hearing about the accomplishments of powerhouse black LGBTQ activists such as Victoria Kirby York, Sterling Washington, and Amari Ice, I realized that the obstacles facing our community had a different dynamic. I could be black, queer and masculine presenting with the Coalition of Activist Students Celebrating the Acceptance of Diversity and Equality (CASCADE), but in the classroom or amongst other organizations, only my blackness seemed pertinent to the conversation. Gender was and still is a non sequitur. I have been told that there are organizations that are not meant to serve as a platform for the LGBTQ movement and in those spaces, I wondered if they would stand next to me at Pride just as we stand together during Million Man Marches and Black Lives Matter Rallies. Now, as a graduating senior, I am in a place where I accept my whole self and I expect those around me to do the same, even if it means accepting that I will bring ALL of my identities into the conversation. At this point, it is a matter of getting the administration and faculty to do the same.
