Perhaps the most important current issue for bisexuals is
overcoming invisibility. This battle requires more out people, which ironically
requires more out people — to provide a community for support, information, and
camaraderie. It’s important then, that those of us who feel most safe take the
lead.
When I look at what steered me to becoming a person who
feels secure enough to not only be out but also out loud, I know much of it
started before I was born, started with the family I was born into and the
community I grew up in. I know too, that when I hit adulthood and began making decisions
for my life, my sexual identity always figured into the choices I made – who I
associated with, who I got close to, where I went to college, and where I chose
to live.
So when I considered the question posed for this issue of
Bi Women Quarterly, “How has your geographic location effected your experience
of your sexual orientation?” I realized, for me, largely, it’s more of a matter
of how being an LGBT person has effected what geographical locations I have
chosen to call home.
Growing up with liberal open-minded parents in a diverse
community in the Virgin
Islands with — what at the time (1960’s) — was a relatively large out
population, helped shape me into a teen who had no problem accepting my sexual
identity.
Perhaps having this strong foundation helped me
understand that I wouldn't be able to tolerate living anywhere that wouldn’t
tolerate who I am. Every time I've moved, I've chosen places that were LGBT
friendly, and had large out LGBT communities.
Not only did this help make me feel welcome and accepted
by the community at large, but also safe enough to not have to be closeted.
Additionally, as a bisexual who was in an opposite-sex relationship for a long
time, and often assumed to be straight, living in areas with large LGBT
populations, also helped make me feel less disconnected from my queerness.
I realize that not everyone always has the luxury to be
able to live where they choose. However, I also realize that there were sacrifices
that came with the choices I've made. In my mid-twenties, I moved from San
Francisco to central Florida to be near family. I’d lived so far from parents
and siblings for many years, and missed the connection. But I couldn't stay.
I’m sure I could have found an LGBT community in the area if I looked for it,
but the fact that I would have had to look for it is enough to explain why I
did not feel at home there, even amongst my family. I returned to San Francisco
in less than a year.
I currently live deep inside the Bible Belt, in the
south, in a state tarnished by its historical
intolerance. However, the town I live in is an oasis of respite from all
the above. In 2007, Eureka Springs
became the first
city in Arkansas to offer civil unions for same sex couples, and in 2011
the first
to provide health care coverage for the domestic partners of municipal
workers. This year, the first
same-sex couples to be married in the South and in the Bible Belt, were
married in this little Ozark village. Our tiny town of approximately 2,000
celebrates three Diversity
Weekends a year.
Currently, this area is having a crisis in regards to an environmental issue. At a
hearing on the matter, many talked of the sacrifices they made to live
here, having taken major cuts in income, and upward mobility, to be near natural
beauty and serenity. On a personal level, living in this small, isolated, town
is severely impacting my income and career prospects. Logistically speaking, at
this point in my life, it would be incredibly easy for me to move some place
where there would be many more opportunities. Ultimately though, it comes down
to the fact that this is where I want to be – because here I have tolerance and
diversity, nature and community. These are the things that are most important
to me.
When choosing where to live, we all weigh the pluses
against the minuses. Can I earn a living? Can I maintain sanity? Can I build
community? How important is nature? How important is nightlife? How important
is being accepted for who I am? What is the housing situation? Etcetera, etcetera.
When I do life coaching with
bisexuals who want to be out, but feel that where they live, where they
work, or whom they rely on, would make this untenable, I help them explore the possibilities
of changing these things. Though unfortunately, sometimes there’s limited prospects
to alter one’s geographic location, more often people can change where they live to make being out safer and easier; it all
comes down to a matter of priorities.
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