Lost Within Myself

At the top of the escalators, I’m handed a flyer.  “Out in the workplace,” “Pride Parade,” “Redefine Gender, “LGBT & Athletics;” it’s that time of the year at Baruch College: LGBT History Month.  Being a woman who has yet to “pick a side,” October can be a rather frustrating month.  I read the pamphlet as I make my way to class.  There’s a brief overview of the events as well as times and dates that spread out of the course of October.  This time last year, I participated greatly in the Gay, Straight, Lesbian and Straight Society (GLASS).  There was a pride parade to march through and around the school, which according to the pamphlet, they will be doing it again.  GLASS also had various student and professor panels, where we could voice our concerns and learn more about the community.  There was also my favorite event: Goddess and She, a very well-known lesbian-duo who came to Baruch and shared their experiences.  The year before that, they performed a marriage in honor of New York allowing same-sex marriages. 

All of them were fun and interesting, but I lost interest when I lost myself.  

I continue to read and sigh at the events, my past and my decisions beginning to haunt me.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the pride, I admire them for the pride, their courage; I admire them for making their voices heard, but I don’t want more questions lurking on my mind.  I put the pamphlet in my bag, and settled in class, hoping to forget what I had just read.  I grab my notes; try to submerge myself in the words of the professor, when my phone vibrates.  I swipe to unlock my phone, only to see a Facebook Invitation from GLASS for their History Month events.  I roll my eyes, it doesn’t seem like this is something I’m going to be able to avoid.  I take a look at the banner, in every color imaginable, aiming to represent the rainbow, while naming the same events that were posted on the flyer that was handed to me not more than ten minutes ago.  I scroll down the page, looking at comments and events, everyone seems happy, everyone knows what they’re doing.  They have found somewhere they belong, my admiration increases.

On a post, member comments, “We’re here, and we’re queer.”  I’m not “queer,” but I’m still here.  I’m not straight but I’m not gone either.  My voice should be heard regardless.  I take the flyer out and read the events again.  The Soulcats, a local Baruch Band, is playing at the opening event.  They look good, I think to myself.  The events begin this Thursday and I’m at a crossroads.

If one were to ask me my sexuality about two years ago, I would’ve responded with “I’m gay.”  Women were the only thing appealing to me at the point in time, men couldn’t get me to glance their way if they were doing back-flips while on fire.  But that changed when I met my boyfriend, I’ve been dating for over a year and half, and that’s when the questions started, the confusion arose.  I no longer fit into the gay category, but I didn’t consider myself bisexual either.  There was only one man I was attracted to, how does that qualify me as being bisexual?  

“All we are is human, nothing more, nothing less.”  After spending years with various Gay-Straight Alliances, I realize that the vast majority of the members were not, or did not consider themselves, to be straight.  Heterosexuals are very hard to find in those groups.  As a result, society is divided into two groups, “heterosexuals” and “other.”  Within the “other” group, there are also divisions, such as Gay, Lesbian, Transgendered, Transsexuals, Poly/Pansexual, Bisexual and several others.  But I don’t belong in any of the groups; I don’t belong in a category.  I’m a person; I am an individual. 

I look at the dates once again.  The events start this Thursday.  Once again, I’m at a crossroads, trying to figure out what I should do, where I belong.  And then, I shut off my phone unhappy that I am forced to read something that made me think of what I try so hard not to think about.  Society makes a big deal about labels, that’s what they want, that’s how they categorize you.  But when you don’t know yourself, how are people supposed to know you?

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