Pride (and Prejudice – or rather: and Anxiety)

I’m scared today. Part of it is that I got triggered yesterday (by rattling pipes, it’s embarrassingly easy to trigger me with heating systems), so my anxiety level is up an extra 10 notches today and I have no idea how to bring it back down.

The other part is more based in reality and less in decades-old trauma so that’s what I actually want to talk about.

I’m going to the pride parade in my town this weekend. It’s not the first time I’ve gone and usually it’s fun and everyone is nice. But so far, I’ve always either gone with lesbian friends (passing as lesbian) or with my husband (passing as straight ally). And frankly, I don’t want to do either anymore. Because I’m not lesbian and I’m not straight. I’m bisexual. So I’m planning to wear bisexual pride colors this year and have my bi!pride flag with me.

I didn’t think much of it before the worry started creeping in a few days ago. I have such an amazing bunch of online friends who completely accept me for who I am, and many of whom are also mythological creatures (bi, ace, aro, genderfluid, pick and choose your fav), that I kind of forgot that the unicorn status is frowned upon or declared invalid in the ‘real world’ queer community quite often. And I’m even ‘worse’ than your average nymphomaniac bisexual because I’m a girl married to a dude, so according to lesbian logic* I’m now straight and am just using the bi label to garner attention.                         *No, it’s not ‘all lesbians’. Just like it’s not ‘all men’.

Sorry if the sarcasm is dripping off the screen and into your keyboard. But in the wake of #LoveWins and the tears of joy over that, I was all love and happiness and rainbows and I hate how outside perceptions make me feel like I have no right to be a part of that. How I’m considering leaving the bi!pride flag at home. How I already want to mold myself to the majority because it has less risk of being shunned.

I want to find something positive to end this post with because I feel there should be a conclusion or a positive moral tale or whatever, but there really isn’t one. All there is is this gnawing anxiety and the feeling like the world is not a safe place for me.

Frankly, it sucks.

And that’s all I have to say to it.

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