undeniable

At times I am overcome, overwhelmed by my queerness and vehemently, deep-down irritated by my constant effortless passing. Part of me wants to reject anything even remotely attractive to men that I possess and yet I sense it is much of the same things that make me attractive to women. A notion consistent with this idea I’ve harbored of defining myself as bisexual or pansexual and by extension my conceptualization of all  sexuality as fluidly expanding across a continuum of multidimensional and dynamic preferences tied both to individuals and to circumstances. 

And still sometimes I want nothing more  than to be consistently, undeniably recognized as gay. Because the truth is women’s  bodies  are the  one thing in life I don’t want to imagine myself without. I feel more like myself when I am touching a woman than I do when I am not. I feel less like myself when men are touching me. Lately, this is part of my truth. 

What I most object to, though, is the expectation or the assumption, so intense that it feels almost like a sense of entitlement,  that there be some hetero in my sexuality at any given moment. But under that, even deeper, there is a crux. A crux that anyone should be entitled to anything regarding my sexuality. Indeed, that I am soley, fully, entitled to my own sexuality without exception and eternally. This has been so far from the default in my world. 

I have very little clue what I am doing when it comes to claiming this. But I know this. It’s mine to claim and if I don’t someone else, fuck everybody else, will. They’ve already tried. And failed. 

This is mine. I’ve got this. I have to.