​The confessions of a retired gas-lighter

Why is coming out in the 21st century so hard?

I wish I could say it's because of conservative, Republican, traditional father figures like my own. I wish I could say it's because of religious, conventional, and well-intended grandparents like my Abuelita. I wish I could say it's the result of an eternity of outward homophobia, relentless hatred, and societal ignorance. But I'd be gaslighting us just like I've been doing for the past 27 years.

Coming out in the 21st century has always been so hard because of my inability to accept myself as I truly am. I am bisexual, and no matter how difficult it may seem to admit to myself, it's finally happening.

Growing up in a Catholic, Conservative, Apprentice-loving household, I spent my adolescence praying that someone would strip me of my homosexuality. That one day, I would awake, my "dark thoughts" would disappear forever, and I would be exactly what my family, friends, and everyone else wanted me to be: straight.

The first time I realized I was queer was in 2003 when I found myself obsessed with one of my favorite shows of all time, Disney Channel's Lizzie McGuire. I was obsessed with Lizzie from the age of six. She was the first girl I ever wanted to marry. She was the first girl I wanted to raise a family with. She was the first girl I wanted to grow up to be. Lizzie McGuire's character embodied every positive characteristic that I was so desperate to find in myself: intelligent, beautiful, and unapologetically herself. I loved everything about her, including the tall, dark, and dumb as a doorknob boy of her dreams, Ethan Craft. Ethan was the kind of boy I always wanted to be, minus the dumb part, but I didn't fully realize then that he was also the kind of boy I always wanted to be with.

I've always been into men as much as I've been into women; how much was always "the question" that weighed heavy on my adolescence. Thanks to all the superheroes named Chris, the rockstars with endless Style, and the other sexy men in the world, my question has long been answered.

I love men.

Chris Evans, it's because of you I pledge my allegiance to America's Ass daily. Elvis freaking Presley, you're the only devil in disguise I would let do anything to me. And Hugh Jackman, you can sing to me while cutting me to pieces.

I love men just as I love women.

Jennifer Lawrence, you'll always be the Law of my life; I created a fan club in your honor to prove it. Ana de Armas, Todo lo que necesitas hacer es mirarme y vendré, lo prometo. Zendaya, what can I say? You're in a league of your own. I love women and men. I have the right and capacity to love who I love because I have my heart, mind, and body; I am my being.

I'm attracted to a person's talent, ambition, energy, work ethic, personality, open-mindedness, and individuality; the world underneath that goes unseen. Of course, I'm attracted to a person's exterior, but what matters most is what makes them who they are internally. For twenty-seven years, I've gas-lit myself into believing that the world won't let me be me when the only one who won't be me is me. It is not okay to gaslight anyone - including ourselves, to fit any conservative agenda that consists of any form of repression.

We know what we want.

We love who we love.

We know who we are.

The truth is we've known it all along.

I'm finished hiding one of the most beautiful parts of me. I am queer. I'm every word, feeling, thought, name, and color associated with one of the most beautiful, welcoming, and engaging communities in the entire world.

Honestly, I'm all the better for it.

I'm choosing to use the term "queer" because I believe that it is all-encompassing. Today, I am bi-sexual. Tomorrow, I may meet the person who may make me realize I am pansexual. Identity is fluid and ever-changing. Being open to change, self-growth, and continuing to explore the unknown is essential to the human experience.

In hindsight, my inability to fully accept myself has always led me down a dark path that caused me to sabotage several relationships. I sabotaged relationships with women because I wanted to try things with men, and I sabotaged relationships with men because I didn't want to admit my feelings for them. I will forever regret my mistakes, but all I can do is move forward and work on myself in the only way I can fathom.

Therapy saves lives.

My "coming out" story is the first necessary step I need to take to accept myself as I am and discover the unconditional love I know I hold for myself in my heart. I'm so sorry for the six-year-old version of me with big eyes, a bigger stomach, and an even bigger heart. You were, are, and will always be worthy of being loved; I'm sorry for ever making you believe differently.

I will never hurt you again.
I will never hurt him.
I will never hurt her.
I will never hurt anyone.
I'm so sorry to everyone, but most importantly myself.

My name is George, I am bi-sexual, and this is only the beginning of my journey to becoming a retired Gas-lighter.

George Del Junco M.A. was born an only child to two immigrants who came to the States with only the love in their hearts and the clothes on their backs. He received his Masters in Creative Writing from the University of Denver. While he loves teaching his English students to pay for his Pomeranian princess’s peanut butter addiction, he really loves it when they teach him that the world isn't as bad as he always thinks. Look out for his next project, "The World in the Wall," a Sci-Fi- Fantasy about a group of alienated teenagers forced to come together and create a better world of their own.

Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ and Allied community. Visit advocate.com/submit to learn more about submission guidelines. We welcome your thoughts and feedback on any of our stories. Email us at voices@equalpride.com. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists and editors, and do not directly represent the views of The Advocate or our parent company, equalpride.