As a young girl, I spent the majority of my time dirtying myself up in the woods of Wisconsin. I loved playing make believe, cutting hair off my Barbie dolls, or jumping off the pier into Lake Geneva. I was not shy to being dirty, nor was I shy to getting rough with the boys. I wasn’t really shy or insecure about anything those days.
From a baby to age fourteen, the question of love and who we fall in love with never really bothered me much. As far as I knew during my grade school existence, I’d crushed on a few boys. A few boys had crushed on me. And of course, there were one or two girls who seemed to have feelings for me, but as far as I knew, I didn’t seem to like them back the same way. Over all of that, I played on two hockey teams, so the idea of dating was totally off my radar. So I placed myself in the first box: straight. Straight as an arrow. Or so I thought.
I was sixteen. We met through ice hockey, had a few sleepovers, wrote letters to each other, and were good friends. I believed it was nothing more, until I realized it wasn’t. All the things I was doing for her, I would have done for a guy. All the daydreams I had about holding her hand or spending time with her, I had for boys too. The entire debacle confused me. Something in me shut down. Not because I was not okay with it. But I feared what everyone else would think. And I had no idea what to call it either. So I left the idea to the cobwebs of my mind, for another time. It wasn’t until university that I would find myself entertaining the idea of being anything other than straight.
Embarking into the great unknown in the city of Pittsburgh, I began my affair with labels. First, it was bi. The term felt alright, and seemed to explain my romantic past. Then, I started dating and crushing on girls. A lot. So I switched over to the lesbian end of the sexuality spectrum, letting that take over. A few tattoos and short hair later, I grabbed my university diploma, still holding onto the gay title proudly. That is, until I came to Taiwan.
There were a few girls in Taiwan that I dated, but it was a man that cut a little bit deeper than the others. Falling for him was just as sweet and bitter as it was at sixteen, and that’s when I began to really contemplate what box I put myself into, again. It’s ironic, considering I came right back to the label that started it all. If you were to ask me today where I fall on the spectrum, I’d say pansexual. The real question, after all these years of confusion on my end, is why do we pressure ourselves to associate with these labels?
Most of my internal struggle came from this idea that I had to label myself. No one who is straight has to come out. If you aren’t straight, people sort of just expect you to have a way to explain yourself. More specifically, to put yourself into one of the boxes presented before you.
If anyone reading this is struggling with this and feels the same pressure, here’s my honest advice: don’t even worry about putting a label on it.
Things will be okay. One day, you will step out into the world and know exactly who you are. Don’t be afraid to live life according to your own rules, even if that means ditching the labels and boxes until you stumble across one that suits you. Life a life that makes you feel proud and confident in your own skin.
Personally, I hope in the future, it will matter less what sexuality you are and more what kind of human you are. After all, we are all human, in search of understanding and companionship, and no one should feel shy about whom they love, because love is the sweetest thing in this world. Love is love, no matter what it looks like to others, and if we all walked this earth showing a little more love for the world around us, imagine what a beautiful community we would foster. Imagine how memorable your life would become if you acted through love and understanding, every single day, towards the people around you. Love can change your future, and it can change ours, too.
