#PRIDE2020 - Jade in the wild pride jungle - Coming out as bisexual in the faith-based community

Even in today’s society, being LGTBQ+ isn’t easy. Add faith into the mix, and you can end up with a dicey cocktail. Here’s one woman’s story about coming out as bisexual in a faith-based community. 

“Are you okay to have a slightly gay kid? Don’t want to make you guys look bad.” Those were the two sentences I texted my Mom, followed by, “Will you tell Dad? Will Dad be okay with it?” And that my dear readers, is how I came out as bisexual to my parents.

I think I knew I was ‘a little gay’ for years – ever since I saw an episode of The L Word when I was probably a bit too young to understand the show’s complexities. But I remember seeing a lesbian relationship and thinking, “wow… I like that.” And that was that I liked girls. I never gave it a second thought – until I was much older.

Being raised in faith

Faith was always a big part of my life. My parents deeply believed in God and I was taught to live a life that Jesus would be proud of. As I grew up, my greatest fear was disappointing my parents, people that cared about me, and God. Yet, as an adult, my church attendance dwindled. Eventually, I left altogether and declared myself agnostic because I felt that religion conflicted too harshly with things that could be seen as positive in the world. But eventually, I returned to a community that welcomed me even though I’d stepped away for a while.  My parents were relieved to know that my faith was still there despite my disagreement with some religious belief systems. And since I had always dated men, I didn’t see the need to mention that I was bisexual.  

Coming out – by accident 

Don’t get me wrong, there were groups of friends that knew I was bi. Being in the acting and creative communities, sexuality would come up in conversations regularly. I chose to be fairly private with my personal life but was never afraid to state in passing that I was bisexual. Still, I can’t say that I ever intended to come out. Not officially – I never saw the need to make a big announcement. That changed, however, when one December I started putting LGTBQ+ quips in my Instagram captions. My favorite was “just making the Yuletide gay.” From there, things progressed – but still only slightly. I titled one of my highlights “B in LGTBQ+”. It was a subtle mention, one that suited me. But this small increase of LGTBQ+ topics on social media sparked the concern of two members in my church.  

I remember the day I got a message from a church leader, asking to talk to me with another leader. She just said that they had a couple of questions, but something in my gut made me very nervous about this seemingly innocent conversation. I asked for clarification on the topic, but they were pretty tight-lipped. So, I walked into the discussion underprepared, and very anxious. From there, it was probably as bad as you can imagine. I was asked whether I knew God’s plan for sexuality. They recited passages from Scripture and assured me that they were doing this out of love. They claimed that they wanted to open up a dialogue and help me during this difficult time when, in reality, it was clear they were attempting to talk me out of being bisexual. It was a terrifying conversation, and it shook me to my core. I left and went to cry at my now partner’s house (who is male for those of you who are curious), feeling angry and confused. 

Not too long after that, I was asked to step down from a faith position that I was passionate about. The leaders I’d spoken to “politely” asked me not to return to the choir I’d attended for the better part of a year. I cried in my co-worker’s office and spent the rest of that month in a fog. I would lay in bed every day wishing I was heteronormative. I questioned everything from my existence on this earth, to how I would continue my faith. I avoided going to church because I felt embarrassed and angry. I wondered how people could speak so passionately about God’s love in one breath, and then put conditions on it in the next. 

I also knew that my parents would see how visibly upset I was. I had to decide whether to lie to them or come out. I decided the latter, praying that I wasn’t ruining their reputation or their opinions of their daughter. But, thankfully, both my parents and the majority of my friends surrounded me with outstanding love and support.

The path to inner peace 

In the weeks and months after this, I harbored a lot of anger. I wasn’t just upset about being told my sexuality was a sin – I was hurt because there wasn’t room for discussion in a way that respected my terms. I didn’t feel up to talking in person, but I did attempt to reach out to the church leaders again through text. But my concerns were deflected, and I was made to feel bad for not understanding where they were coming from. I was left pondering a number of questions: Do I return to church? Do I return to that church? Do I even still have any faith?

Since then, I’ve worked – and am still working – on forgiveness. I feel pressure to talk to other people in faith about what happened, but I also don’t feel ready. I believe that honoring myself in this time is super important. I do know that at the end of the day, the people who made me feel so much doubt, are just that – people. I may not be comfortable talking to them, I will advocate against the way they handled the situation, but I will not hate them for what they did. I still have questions and moments of worry – even now as I write this. But I know that even if I don’t have the answers, I am closer to my faith and to the surrounding people. I choose to love and follow the path to peace, wherever it leads me.  

Being bisexual and having faith 

If you’ve made it this far, I’d like to give you some points that I learned during the coming out process:

Faith and sexuality are not mutually exclusive. One does not exclude the other and they are not incompatible. Both faith and sexuality are about love. Pure, beautiful love. You can believe in something spiritual or religious and still be LGTBQ+. 

It is okay to not be comfortable coming out yet – because you don’t owe anyone an explanation. If it is your truth, then live it. The pieces will fall into place. 

If you’re a person of faith who has questions about LGBTQ+-related topics – be respectful and gentle of LGTBQ+ individuals. This is an extremely vulnerable situation. The experiences a person has while they come out will stay with them forever. The kindest thing you can do is be their ally. 

Challenge those who ask you to change your sexuality because they love you. When it comes to sexuality, love and acceptance shouldn’t come with a clause. If that person has a viewpoint that promotes discrimination or acceptance based on their ideal vision of you, it’s okay to question that. 

I talk about my coming out experience because I am a strong believer and follower of my faith, as well as a passionate supporter of the LGBTQ+ community. And, of course, I truly believe that the two can go hand-in-hand. My experience was less than positive, but the lessons I learned from it helped strengthen both my faith and my own self-image – and I hope that it can do the same for others. Remember, no matter where you are in your journey, we are strong together.   

A graduate in Forensic Psychology, as well as Community Development and Policy Studies, Rebecca Anne’s career, started as a political science research assistant. However, in 2018 Rebecca moved her focus to her passion - the arts. Since then, Rebecca Anne has acted in a variety of productions and currently works as a content creator and writer. She recently started her own photography and art commission business and is also one half of the ODA (Our Dramatic Assets) Podcast.  When she isn’t working, you can find Rebecca immersed in film or theatre culture, soaking in nature with her partner Jeff, or snuggling their rambunctious kittens, Munchkin and Plum. You can find more about her at rabloomcreations.com.

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