Bullies Targeted Me For Being Bisexual — Here's What I Wish I Knew Then

By Ella Dawson


I realized I wasn’t straight While I was 17 years old and kissing a friend at a high school cast party. We were alone in a washroom, giddy and giggling about some teenage conspiracy, any time if she smiled at me with such open joy that I lost my train of thought. The next day I wrote in my diary that I was bisexual, and then I recorded that week’s drama from play rehearsal. I had no identity crisis, nor was I alarmed. I was just bisexual. At 17, being bi was just another LEGO brick in the eye catching, wild construction project that was me growing up. I really admired males, and I really admired ladies, and that was that.


Whenever I wasn’t ashamed of my bisexuality, I didn’t although aspire to share this segment of myself with the world. In 2008, very few LGBTQ+ students at my conservative Connecticut high school were out about their sexuality, and none of these were girls. The gay and bisexual males I knew faced constant ridicule by our peers. There was no Gay-Straight Alliance and no local celebration of Pride month, and other students lobbed homophobic slurs at kids who dared take part in theater.


As a queer teenager, I instinctively knew that life would get a lot harder if I openly spoken about my bisexuality. As soon as I tested the waters and told some of my progressive companions that I may be bisexual, I procured skeptical looks. (“Are you sure?” One of those asked me, before trotting out a harmful, bigoted judgment: “That’s just what sluts mention for attention.”) I thought acceptance could be more typical any time Whenever I got to college, especially Whenever I enrolled at one of the most liberal schools in the U.S. However I encountered harmful myths about LGBTQ+ people there also, and endured someone spreading a rumor that I just called myself bi to fit in and impress guys. I stopped talking openly about my sexuality, worn down by the jerks I encountered on campus and in high school.


More young people than ever before identify as LGBTQ+. Millennials in the U.S. Are nearly twice as likely to calculate as LGBTQ+ than other adults, as well as a 2017 study from Ipsos Mori noticed that only 66 percent of British Generation Z people identify as exclusively heterosexual. Also in 2017, a study conducted by the UK-based anti-bullying nonprofit Ditch The Label of noticed that 57 percent of young people ages 13-26 don’t identify as “traditionally straight.” Although LGBTQ+ teenagers still worry about bullying, and their fears aren’t unfounded. According to GLSEN’s 2017 National School Climate Survey, 59.5 percent of LGBTQ+ students feel unsafe at school because of their seual orientation, and 44.6 percent feel unsafe because of their gender expression. Nearly three-fourths of LGBTQ+ students report being verbally harassed, and half didn’t report being bullied because they doubted anyone would intervene. What’s more, 59.5 percent of LGBTQ+ students feel unsafe at school because of their sexual orientation, plus a whopping 48.7 percent experienced cyberbullying like I did.


“Research shows that LGBTQ+ young people still experience exceedingly high levels of stress, anxiety, and rejection,” Erica Smith, M.Ed, a sexuality educator who works with queer and transgender youth, told MTV News. According to the Human Rights Campaign’s 2018 LGBTQ Youth Report, 95 percent of LGBTQ+ youth have trouble falling asleep at night, and 85 percent rate their average stress level as a five or higher on a scale from one to ten. Research also shows that the support and acceptance of people around them is the most crucial mitigating factor.”


It wasn’t up until my 20s, any time If I moved to Brooklyn, New York, that I started to believe in my queerness again. I started writing for Femsplain, a website that featured the voices of transgender and cisgender females, and also gender nonconforming individuals, and I met dozens of queer writers and illustrators who took me under their clever wings. The Femplain community was both digital and in-person thanks to meet-ups in NYC, and I rapidly assembled a new chosen family member who understood my self-doubt and fear. Being surrounded by confident and unapologetic LGBTQ+ people with a span of different life experiences and perspectives helped me visualize that my sexual identity wasn’t defined by who or what I’d done, nevertheless by how I felt.


“Meeting out LGBTQ+ people who resemble the opportunities of an out life is incredibly validating,” Smith added. “You get to be able to see real life examples of folks living their truth, which assists the you visualize the opportunities for your own life. They can also distribute you unique support that you could only get from someone with the same struggles.”


In October 2016, I mustered up the courage to declare my sexuality on social media, and used National Coming Out Day to do so. It was a relief to post about my sexual identity in public and I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I’d long used social media in my feminist activism, also it felt astonishing to finally share this piece of myself on Twitter too.


Then something unconventional happened: A bunch of my coworkers derived an email from an anonymous troll with the subject line “ELLA DAWSON IS BISEXUAL.” I also derived an email, in which the troll called me “pathetic,” denied my sexuality, and mentioned they hoped I got struck by the L train.


I was humiliated and scared, and I had no idea who could have sent these emails. I had never spoken about my sexual orientation with my colleagues, and had no idea how my bosses would react. Most states never protect LGBTQ+ individuals from discrimination in the workplace, which means it’s legal for an employer to fire someone because of their sexual orientation or gender identity. There really is hope that may change: the Equality Act passed in the Residence of Representatives in May, which would protect the LGBTQ+ community from discrimination in housing, employment and other option. Although the Equality Act still hasn’t been voted on by the Republican-controlled Senate, despite the urging of activists and popstars like Taylor Swift.


On October 8, the Supreme Court heard three cases that may resolve whether or not current laws against sex discrimination also protect LGBTQ+ people, including the case of Aimee Stephens. Immediately after six years as a funeral director at R.G. And G.R. Harris Funeral Homes, Stephens was fired in 2012 any time while she instructed her boss that she was transgender. The Supreme Court’s ruling on Stephens’s case will most likely be reported in late spring, leaving the LGBTQ+ community waiting on pins and needles to be able to see if discrimination will be enshrined in legal precedent.


Being outed at work made me feel violated and exposed. My colleagues rallied around me and helped me file a police report, although I worried that each person saw me differently right now. Would this undermine the respect I’d been fighting for as a youngster at the business? I was shaken by the awareness that things could have been much worse if I worked somewhere much less progressive. Outing someone is an act of violence, whether it’s at school, at work or maybe to their companions and family.


No one deserves to be bullied or harassed for their sexual identity — and although the bullying of LGBTQ+ youth is still all also typical. Our community may have reached unprecedented levels of visibility, nevertheless that doesn’t mean that schools are safe places for the next generation of queer kids to be themselves and explore their first relationships. Only last month, 16-year-old Channing Smith died by suicide right after he was outed as bisexual by two of his classmates, who posted text messages he had exchanged with another boy. In April, 15-year-old Nigel Shelby also died by suicide immediately after he was bullied at his high school in Alabama for being gay.


According to Heather Corinna, an educator and founder of Scarleteen: Sex Ed for the Real World, it’s critical that young LGBTQ+ people “get support and report. In other words, gather companions and family member to help support you and then all report what is happening,” whether that’s at school, work, or anywhere else in your life. It might be scary to report bullying at school or in the workplace, nevertheless it feels much less weak prone to do so whenever you know that your support system has your back. Reporting as a crowd can also ensure your school takes incident seriously.


in the event you can’t plan on the support of your parents or peers, there may be a LGBTQ+ center nearby that offers resources and understanding. “Young people who have access to a community space for LGBTQ+ youth, like because the Hetrick-Martin Institute in NYC or Kaleidoscope Youth Center in Central Ohio, can benefit from meeting other young people they can relate to and feel safe with,” Miriam Mogilevsky, LISW of Central Ohio, tells MTV News. “They can also increase a lot from forming trusting relationships with the adults who work or volunteer in these spaces and become mentors to the young people who come through these spaces.” While these LGBTQ+ firms might not be obtainable everywhere in the U.S., Mogilevsky points out that they’re on the rise; you could find one in your area using CenterLink’s LGBT Community Center Membership Directory. And no matter where you live, the Trevor Project also provides texting and online chat services on their website or at 1-866-488-7386 to young LGBTQ+ people who may be struggling.


It’s also crucial to take care of yourself and seek help. “If a counselor is obtainable, having someone who is there for you converse with and routinely in your corner—and not as a favor—can help a lot,” Corinna says. They also suggest making sure that counselor is LGBTQ+ friendly also. College students who experience bullying or discrimination on campus can turn to Campus Pride, a nonprofit agency that seeks to prepare safe and inclusive college campuses for the LGBTQ+ community.


Most importantly, you've got to do whichever is right for you. “There’s no right way” to deal with homophobic or transphobic bullying, Corinna says. “If you could loudly stand up for yourself, wonderful. However in case you can’t, or your gut says that will make things worse or just isn’t what you could stage name, trust yourself. Don’t figure aren’t brave in case if you should deal more quietly.”


Other people have noticed other ways to show solidarity and resilience, some days without requiring that anyone mention a word. In 2010, high school student Brittany McMillan founded Spirit Day group in attempt to take a stand against bullying that targeted LGBTQ+ people for their sexual or gender identity. She asked people to wear something purple, the color that resembles spirit on Gilbert Baker’s rainbow pride flag, on October 17. While wearing a color may seem like a tiny gesture, people who participate in their schools and workplaces send a powerful message: that homophobia and transphobia are not acceptable, and that bullying isn't welcome in our community.


“Now more than ever, it is so key that we stick by our promises to end bullying and support our companions and family member in the LGBTQ+ community, in all communities,” McMillan told GLAAD in 2017. “We must make sure that our children don’t get lost in the tragedies occurring in the world today. They must be reminded day-to-day that there really are people who care to prepare kindness a priority.”


I spent a lot of time doubting myself and my sexuality because I felt unsafe exploring who I was. It has taken me a long time to be overjoyed of who I am as a bisexual woman, and I still have moments of insecurity and fear. Whenever I feel myself wavering in my pride, I remember how confident and clear I was about my identity 10 years back as I wrote about that cast party — and that kiss — in my diary. For the life of me, I can’t remember who kissed whom. We were laughing with each other, and then we were kissing, and there was nothing unconventional about it at all.