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Untitled
by Tam
I grew up in a very fundamentalist Christian family.
Because of my religion I was always an outsider
in school: I dressed differently, I ate different
food and I had different beliefs. In grade 9 I decided
to go to an arts program at my local high school.
One day I heard about a girl in grade 10 who was
a dyke. I remember thinking about what that meant,
and whether or not I might be one too. We ended
up meeting and talked a little bit. A few days later
during lunch she asked me to walk with her to a
friend’s house so I decided to skip 3rd period.
On the way back to the school it started to rain
so we took refuge in a park gazebo. We were hanging
out talking when she kissed me! I wasn’t exactly
naïve, I knew that I liked her and I knew that
I enjoyed her kiss… so when she took my hand
as we walked back and asked if I would be her girlfriend
I said yes. That’s how I started coming out
to people. I’d tell them that I “met
someone” and when they asked what his name
was I replied with her name. It ended up that our
relationship only lasted a couple months, but by
then I knew that I liked both girls and boys. I
don’t know where I first heard the word ‘bisexual’,
but it seemed to apply, and it did for a long time.
Then one Sunday morning two years later my dad came
into the room as I was just getting up. We started
talking, and at some point in the conversation he
asked about a “friend” of mine who had
been over to our house for dinner. “Does she
have a boyfriend?” he inquired. “No”
I said. “Does she have a girlfriend?”
he joked. To which I replied, “Uh… yeah.”
“Is it you?” he demanded. “Yes.”
The silence that followed seemed to last forever.
I’ll never forget the look on his face. “Why
are you looking at me like I’m a stranger?”
was all I could think to say. He simply said “you
are” and left my room. I was in complete shock.
I hadn’t thought about how I would come out
to any of my family and had no idea what to do.
I cried for a while, feeling scared and ashamed.
All I knew was that I didn’t feel safe staying
in my house with my father. Somehow I made it to
my mother’s work and thankfully she was much
more supportive. She drove me to her father’s
house where she was staying.
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