This Sinner Doesn’t Want Mere Scraps of Support

I’ve often discussed the emotions that surged through me when I finally came out as a bi man over a decade ago. I’ve shared my fears about not being accepted, my anxiety about facing the unknowns of life outside the closet, and my worries about having to deal with biphobia head-on. But there’s one emotion I have never spoken about in any detail, although it was the driving force behind my decision to come out: desperation.

I was desperate to change my life, to stop hiding who I really am. After a lifetime of pretending that I was someone I am not, I was utterly exhausted. Straight friends and family often tell me that it was brave of me to come out. But while I appreciate their support and understand why they think so, it wasn’t bravery that prompted me to utter the words, “I am bisexual,” out loud for the first time. It was knowing that if I didn’t, I would crumble and fade away into a numb haze from which there would be no escape. At that moment, it was all or nothing, and I knew I had to save myself.

Fortunately, when I took that leap, I received so much love and support from the people closest to me that I was blown away. They responded with so much acceptance and understanding. I will always cherish that.

But, of course, it was not all sunshine and rainbows. Fresh out of the closet, I was still consumed by feelings of fear, vulnerability, and desperation. These feelings drove me to sacrifice some of my self-respect by begging others to accept me as a publicly bi man and to settle for the meagerest scraps of support, the kind of crumbs of acceptance that briefly stave off hunger but offer little true sustenance. I’m talking about statements like I support you, but not your lifestyle or — the phrase I detest most of all — Hate the sin, love the sinner. I ate reassurances like these up as if they were my last meal; no morsel was too small, regardless of the intent behind it. These pitiful scraps were to remain a staple of my diet for many years to come.

Even as I developed more strength and confidence as an out-and-proud bi man, I still clung to vestiges of the old desperation, fueled by these scraps of comfort offered to me, in my supposed depravity, by those who thought themselves superior to me. It took longer than I care to admit to see through their fake tolerance and superficial acceptance and recognize what was truly motivating them.

These people weren’t genuinely supportive. They were using these pat phrases as a screen to conceal their actual bigotry from the world. “I support you,” some of them would tell me, “isn’t that enough?” Frankly, no, it isn’t. I don’t want special treatment. I don’t want you to make a convenient exception for me instead of taking responsibility for the real harm you help perpetuate with your bigoted views. You can’t claim me as a friend while denigrating everyone else in my community. That’s just selective bigotry, and I want no part in it.

“Well, this is all new to me; it takes time to learn,” some people tell me. Or “You need to have patience with them; they grew up in a different time!” But how much time do people need? It’s 2023. The LGBT community is here to stay, and there are an infinite number of resources on the internet if you want to learn more about us. The information is out there. Your refusal to seek it out in case it disrupts your narrow worldview does not mean that you should be excused for what you say and do.

Some people still think I should settle for these scraps of support. That I should accept comments like, “I think everyone in your community should experience an eternity of pain and suffering because of who they are … but you’re alright.” That I should be happy that such people make an exception for me because we’re close and just shut up about the suffering experienced by the rest of my community.

When I was younger, I was desperate enough to accept this fake support. But now I know that I — and the rest of my community — deserve more. I will no longer let desperation dictate how I allow others to treat me. I will not be kind to people who condemn me and my community. I won’t pretend to be comfortable with them. Their stance is morally wrong, and it causes many people a great deal of pain. I refuse to let other people treat me as if I were lesser. I won’t apologize for existing. I won’t let desperation win. I’ve already been through that hell, and I’m never going back.