Bi-Inspiration
from Issue #6
by Bill Clearlake of Mindstation X

    I'm bisexual.

    When I say that to people in the course of a conversation the reaction is usually a blank, slightly embarrassed look followed by a sudden change of subject.

    Being bisexual has meant being misunderstood, mistrusted, even feared. I've been told that I'm confused or going through a phase. I've been told that I don't really know what I want, or that I'm just trying to be different - or following a fad. The fact is that all of those things have been true at different times in my life.

    When, as a pre-teen, I developed a crush on a boy I met at YMCA camp, I was confused. I was having feelings that I had never seen demonstrated on television or talked about in school or at home except in the most negative of terms. Was I a homo? A fag? One of "those"? I liked girls too. It was confusing. I went into denial for a while. I shoved all those strange feelings aside. I swallowed them back to the point of losing part of myself. I became depressed. In my late teens I used drugs, ran with a gang, failed school. But I wasn't a fag - I wasn't. I couldn't be. I had girlfriends. I was tough. I carried weapons. I got in trouble. No sissy me. Later, I had friends who pretended to be bisexual because they were into David Bowie and thought he and bisexuality were cool. I went along with the gang, and the fad, but I never let on that I wasn't pretending. I was just pretending. Of course I was. I was no fag. Of course, I had a male lover at the time. He was a neighbor. He liked to go down on me in the woods behind his house. He kept telling me that I was gay. I kept telling him I wasn't. I couldn't be. He knew I loved him, but I wouldn't allow myself to admit it (if you're still out there, I'm sorry). But the denial was just a phase.

    It was years before I came back to myself. First I had to leave my hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and breathe the freer air of San Francisco, California. I was 17 years old. The year was 1973.

    After a couple of years, I met a guy I'll call Mat. We became close friends. I had a girlfriend at the time - I'll call her Marsha. Mat liked Marsha. I liked Mat. One day the three of us ended up in bed together. In the course of events, Mat and I got physical. I felt very comfortable being with both sexes. This, for me, was normal, healthy sexuality - expressing my affection and desire for people I cared for - and these people were each male and female. I felt at home. Mat, however was at square one. He was confused, scared. I remember him saying, "Hey, that was cool, man, but I'm no fag, alright?" We remained "just friends." I loved him though, and I wanted him to stay with us. I also didn't - how would I explain it? I wanted to declare my bisexuality to the world. The thought terrified me. I wanted to be free to explore my sexuality. I was afraid of where that freedom might take me. I didn't know what I wanted.

    Years later I met a guy at a party - I'll call him Jontelle. I really liked him. He seemed to like me. We became a couple. I introduced Jontelle to my friends and family. He was beautiful - trim and dark and handsome. My mother liked him. My father wasn't surprised to find out that I was queer. I was out - at 32 years of age. Everyone I cared about knew that I had a male lover. I waved him like a flag - declaring my freedom. I used him like a token, showing him off to anyone and everyone, whether they cared to know or not. I was different. I knew I was different and I was going to make damned sure that everyone in the whole world knew it too.

    Jontelle left me after a few months, but my deep, dark secret was out - to me. Through him, I came out to myself and finally accepted me for what I was... am.

    I'm bisexual. I love men and women. It's confusing sometimes, and sometimes I don't know what I want. We all have days like that. There are times when being bisexual will be more or less popular. I'll probably rise and fall with those tides like everyone else. What I know for sure, and what will never change is that I have at least double the capacity to love and be loved as most people, and for that I am very grateful... and very lucky.

    To find out about Bill and see some amazing sights like none other on the net, stop by MindStation X.