Finding the Courage to Embrace My Bisexuality

2012 was a dark year for me. While Mayan experts debunked people's irrational fears about the world ending, I was dealing with a more personal fear: my bisexuality. I was a sophomore in college, and my body was sending me signals that contradicted how I felt, or rather, how I thought I was supposed to feel. I remember feeling conflicted that summer during a family trip to Sudan. I was ecstatic to visit the motherland and see my relatives; however, I had massive anxieties about who I was.

The summer of 2012 was hot as hell. I was being tortured but also nourished by the hyper-arid heat of Sudan. Around this time, Frank Ocean released his brilliant album Channel Orange, and equally importantly, publicized his sexuality to the world. I, on the other hand, was desperately trying to purge a part of myself that I knew I could not change. Despite my inner turmoil, the love that I was surrounded by brought me some solace.

I believe coming out is a two-step process: first, you come out to yourself, and then you tell the world. I had yet to come out to myself at the time, and even if I did, I wouldn't have dared come out to my family in Sudan. Like the vast majority of people living in Sudan, my family is Muslim, and my fellow countrymen aren't exactly fond of the LGBT community.

The sad part about it all is that this normalized discrimination wasn't always the case. My family is part of the Nyimang tribe who historically lived in the Nuba Mountains of South Kordofan. Before the widespread adoption of Abrahamic religions, the various tribes of the Nuba Mountains were more accepting of sexual fluidity, gender nonconformity, and gender equality. I don’t believe Islam is inherently homophobic. Rather, I think that people continue to interpret its teachings in a way that enables homophobia. Nevertheless, one can't deny that anti-LGBT discrimination is an unfortunate import in Sudan.

The situation I was in didn't allow me to address my sexuality in a healthy way. As a bi man, it would have been even more difficult because people are often unable or unwilling to understand or accept non-monosexual identities. A bisexual person has to come out while simultaneously negotiating their very existence with the world. With my desires both demonized and misunderstood in equal parts, I simply kept them to myself and suffered in silence.

My struggles at least did not stop me from entertaining my attraction to women. In Sudan, there was a girl named Hannah, who was my childhood crush. We were both delighted to see each other after nine years. She grew up to be a gorgeous woman with the signature style that distinguishes many Sudanese ladies. Our interaction was substantial but limited due to how Sudanese society polices women's movements. I heard that she’s since married a much older man. Nevertheless, Hannah was a light for me in a very dark time.

I don't know what to make out of my story if I'm perfectly honest. 

As a binational bisexual Sudanese-American man who spent the bulk of his life in California, my story is unique and yet universal at its core. Many millennials had to grow up in a conservative religious household that worships both God and the American dream. Many bi men have to pretend to be heterosexual or are labeled gay due to monosexism. My story is mine, but regardless of your race, nationality, gender, or religion (or lack of it), coming to terms with being bisexual can be a challenging thing.

In "Bad Religion", Frank Ocean sings, "I can't tell you the truth about my disguise, I can't trust no one." His chilling words echo the angst of many bisexual people. I learned that the number one thing you should strive for is self-acceptance. I understand that circumstances often do not allow you to be open to other people about your sexuality, but that shouldn't stop you from accepting and loving yourself. You need to silence that inner voice that internalizes biphobia. Yes, you are attracted to both sexes, and that's okay. The world may not understand who you are, but that doesn't diminish you as a person, or make you less than anybody else.

Ancient China, pre-colonial Africa, and the Roman and Greek societies of antiquity prove that bisexuality has always been part of the complex nature of human beings. We should not let ignorant people or unenlightened standards tell us otherwise.

It took me almost a decade of wrestling with my ingrained cultural perception of sexuality to fully understand who I was, and I'm still met with scorn and mislabeling from strangers and family members alike. The most important thing I’ve learned to do is disregard what others think and focus on becoming more intimate with myself.

Love women, love men, love whomever catches your interests at the moment — but love and accept yourself above all else.