Ever since I was 7 years old, I have had a secret. This secret is shared by only one other person, that is, until now….

Let’s start toward the beginning. I was raised by my traditional, devout Christian grandparents. I was my papa’s angel and my grandma’s pain. But to them, I was the perfect grandchild. I didn’t complain about going to church on Sundays; I wore my lacy frills without soiling them. When I was asked to do something I did it, and as a child I was seen and not heard.

When I was six, my dear Christian grandparents welcomed a single mother of three young girls into our house. The mother was a daughter of one of their best friends and had suffered spousal abuse, therefore having to leave her house. Amongst her daughters was a girl a few months older than me. Her name was Kayla.

Needless to say, Kayla and I had become instant best friends. She enjoyed everything I did (even naming her Barbie the same name as I!) and loved making mud pies with me in the summer. One day, as I stared at Kayla playing mommy in our game of house, my view started to change about her. She seemed a lot prettier than I remembered her. And I easily became entranced by her smile.

I had already discovered boys; I had my first ‘boyfriend’ in Kindergarten. This was different though. I had a feeling my papa would be very angry if I told him this, so I kept it to myself.

Here is where my secret finally gets told…

One night, as Kayla and I were whispering under the covers of our fort in the living room, she asked if she could kiss me. This seemed a bit odd, but being so infatuated with her I agreed. Closing my eyes and leaning my face in, I puckered up (like I had seen grandma do with papa). She giggled and said, “No, really kiss you.”

Kayla saw how confused I was and showed me on her arm. (Give her a break, we were seven!) Hesitantly, I parted my lips and she joined hers with mine. We exchanged saliva for a few minutes when I felt her hands start to glide down my shoulder to my chest, then down my stomach. My body tingled, and I became breathless for a moment. (Just to clarify, I was pretty developed by that age, menstruating and everything.)

I won’t go on any further, to avoid ‘child porn’ issues, but I am sure you get the gist.

We fell asleep “spooning” that night, and when we woke up, we swore not to tell anyone about what had happened. This early incident set the course of events that would happen later on in my life.

I did my research and discovered there was a word for what I was, bisexual. I asked a few adults I trusted what it meant to them and whether it was ‘bad’ or not. I didn’t receive any positive answers. Usually the adult I was questioning would snarl at me and tell me that it was a sin. Anyone who lusted after someone of the same gender would go to hell to be burned for all eternity.

So I kept it to myself, until a few years ago.

My first few years in high school were tough, outside my FFA career. I lost 90% of my friends due to a faculty member almost getting me expelled for false reasons. I lost two family members. And, most importantly, I lost sight of myself.

There were no open homosexuals in my tiny farm community. It just didn’t happen. The one person that everyone knew was gay had left his wife and children several years before and became ostracized from the entire community. I became determined to change that. I knew, however, that I needed to overcome my fears of telling my grandparents before I openly let the community know. So I started my research again.

I found a close chapter of PFLAG and wrote down there telephone number on an index card. I searched statistics on homosexuality and bisexuality, including scientific research explaining that it wasn’t just a choice; I was born this way. I wrote an ENTIRE speech on note cards so I wouldn’t lose my words and panic. Then I sat them down.

Needless to say, they didn’t take it well. I got disowned by my papa. I disgraced the family name. No one in my family would speak to me, and the world became a lot lonelier. All too soon, I was the talk of the town. It seemed more like I was a witch than a bisexual. I knew it would happen, but nothing can prepare someone for COMPLETE banishment.

Then one day, I got a tap on the shoulder at lunch. A girl I had seen roaming the halls before had a concerned look on her face and asked if she could talk to me about something. I had a feeling she was about to lecture me on how I needed to let the Lord back into my life, but the words that came out of her mouth turned my life back around.

She told me that she was “you know, one of me”, and had been too scared to let anyone know. She was worried that the things that happened to me, would happen to her. This girl also told me she knew of four other girls that were lesbian roaming the halls of the high school, worried their secret would be found out. I asked if she could get those girls together and meet me somewhere at lunch the following day.

I look back at my experience now and feel a sense of pride. Since I “came out” there have been tons that followed. At my last check, there were four lesbian couples, three gay couples, and at least 20 bisexuals on the campus of my Alma Mater.

What happened to those five other girls and me? We took a stand. Oddly, we were already attracted to each other and formed couples. Out-of-the-closet couples. We stood proudly as we walked the campus hand-in-hand. Our eyes did not falter, as students cursed at us for kissing in public. We held our ground. And within a month, we were no longer alone.

Sometimes, enduring the pain in your own life can help someone else endure their own. In my case, my grandparents eventually started talking to me again (though they made me swear to never bring up my sexuality again), the town calmed down, and people began to open their minds. I know now, that my sacrifice helped lots of people become themselves, and for that, I couldn’t be a prouder bisexual.