By Jlo
I’m a Libra with Gemini as antecedent. Also, I’m not into astrology. But this double duality has marked my life and I cannot escape it. And, after finally acknowledging my bisexuality two years ago, I appreciate the irony of my zodiac signs.
Since forever, my mum’s words echoed in my head. “You never know what you want, you cannot make up your mind, you cannot choose—you’re such a typical Libra!” She told me this when I was a pre-teen, not able to decide which sweater I wanted her to buy me in the store. But I took it as being applicable to my entire personality.
Over the course of my life, I realized that this was incorrect—I know very well what I want, and I make it happen, too! From choosing what to study to deciding to move abroad and learn a new language to perfection, from getting my dream job to playing music at a high level, from marrying my long-time love to having children. Once I set my mind to something, my determination knows little to no bounds.
Then it became clear to me that the issue is not that I cannot choose, it’s that I don’t want to choose. And yes, this also applies to Love. I want to love the man and the woman that are very dear to me—just in different ways. With him I lead my family life with all the heteronormative privileges and bi-erasure that come with it. She is the reason I needed to address my bi-ness.
The thing is, I’m not out. The only time I came out was with my therapist when I realized I’m the B on the rainbow spectrum. Ever since, I have been crunching these new findings in my head, trying to make sense of it all while journaling, wanting to discuss it with friends and my loves, always chickening out in the end. Coming out feels risky.
And I don’t have to. Right? I came out to myself, which was already a huge revelation and a relief—sparking joy, a sense of freedom, and dread all at the same time. I could consider “inviting people in,” as my favorite bi influencers (or “Binfluencers”) on Instagram puts it. But I don’t have to.
The other thing is, I have children. Two of them. Two boys. And I want them to grow up, knowing that they can be themselves, unapologetically, as long as they don’t hurt anyone. I want them to feel free to love and have the courage to build a life with their love(s). I want them to learn that from me and so I want to be honest with them.
When I grew up, my parents told me about the birds and the bees in a straightforward way, but only the heterosexual version of it. They told me they didn’t mind if I’d come home with a boy or a girlfriend, safely remaining in the realm of monosexism. I learned about sex, but not sexuality. I think I heard the term “bisexual” as a teen, but never contemplated it as relevant for me. I worried about being lesbian, happily dismissing this when I head-over-heels fell in love with my now-husband.
I want to do better with my kids and invite them in. But for that I need to step out of my comfort zone and be their example. I need to unpack what it means to be bisexual in a long-term hetero-passing relationship. I need to do so without hurting anyone or damaging my marriage. It is scary, but I’m also certain that I will again experience a sense of liberation when I do this. It will allow me to come even closer to myself and live in my own truth.
After all, that’s what I want to pass on to my sons—the determination to work towards what they want and live in honesty towards themselves. I’ll also tell them their zodiac signs may be dropping not-so-subtle hints at them. Just in case.
Forever juggling contradictions, Jlo loves music, nature, and her family.