This is adapted from the personal statement that got me into grad school, so I must have said something right. And in honor of Bisexual Health Awareness Month, I’d like to share it.

Just days ago, I opened an email from my doctor’s office prompting me to digitally check-in to my annual physical appointment and began filling out the questionnaire. Had anything changed since I had last visited eight months ago? Yes, definitely. Was I on any new medication? Also, yes. Did I want to update my personal information? I clicked around and encountered an optional question I’d always dismissed before: What is your sexual orientation?

Bisexual. For the first time in my 29 years of life, I told my primary healthcare provider that I was bisexual and I felt good about it. Great, even. Previous attempts at disclosing this have left me feeling invalidated, judged, or questioning my own identity, to the point that I had avoided doctors and therapists, and kept myself small, hidden, and muted.

It does not surprise me that bisexuals are significantly less likely than lesbian or gay people to report their sexual orientation to healthcare providers (Durso & Meyer, 2012), are at an increased risk of substance misuse (Green & Feinstein, 2013) and significantly more likely to experience mental health issues than both their heterosexual and lesbian and gay counterparts (Ross, et al, 2018). What was surprising to me, however, was finally seeing myself in the statistics. Biphobia, erasure, and invisibility in the cultural systems I’ve been a part of have led me to question myself for years. Even once I knew the answer, I hid behind the privileged parts of my identity out of fear, which in turn, hurt me the most.

Over the last year, however, through self-work and with the help of four different Licensed Clinical Social Workers, I have come to know myself in ways I didn’t expect, and ways I’d historically tried not to. Parts of me that were buried under life circumstances, coping mechanisms, and societal norms were revealed to me as gifts, strengths, and truths. Thanks to the compassion and empathy modeled by these social workers, I began to show the same care for myself and significantly changed my diet and lifestyle, dramatically improved my mental health, and came out publicly as bisexual on December 12th, 2019.

After 29 years, I could finally, truly, see myself. This was not without the tremendous privilege of presenting as a cisgender white woman, with access to mental healthcare, a supportive partner, a physically safe environment, and monetary means. That said, the very nature of my coming out, the reasons this took me so long, the reasons I still question whether I’m even “bi enough” to write this statement, and the reasons I avoided any help or treatment for any physical or mental health issues, are the very things that confirmed for me that I want to pursue my Master’s in Social Work.

Raised Presbyterian, I felt like an outsider in my strict Catholic school system, and I urged my family to convert to Catholicism with me in the 4th grade. My Catholic education continued through my senior year of high school, in a place that promoted my right to wear a skirt, but only just above the knee, more than my right to reproductive health or sex education. In those 13 years in Catholic schools, I was positioned, if not directly told, not to think of my own body, individuality, creativity, or difference as a gift, but as a sin, something to be quieted, shamed, confessed to a priest, and repented for. This did not bode well for my sense of self or mental health.

In college, with a bit more freedom and a bit more confidence, I began to branch out and find myself. Lehigh University, however, was a homogenous campus itself, with few going against the grain. The campus LGBTQ center door was just next to the food hall entrance—even looking at the sign too long felt like outing myself. Through various experiences, I had come to know that needing help or being different meant you were a disturbance to the peace.

The swimming world was yet another system which promoted strict rules for body, mind, and behavior to ensure success in the water. I had been swimming competitively since age 8, and on substantial scholarship by 2011, I tearfully quit my college team my senior year, days after my 21st birthday. I was burnt out and wanted freedom to pursue my interests outside the pool. So, I took three on-campus jobs to supplement the loss of my athletic scholarship and feed my creativity. I threw myself into my studies, career preparation, friendships, and relationship with myself. Still, I’d turned down the volume on everything telling me who I really was. I contorted myself to fit the mold I thought would protect me best. I created walls in the form of clothing, friendships, behavior, and more. But much like our political climate, walls don’t do a very good job of protecting anyone from anything. They cause harm, no matter what side you’re on, and they come from a place of fear.

The year is 2020 now, and the world is different, or so they say. Since college, I’ve lived and worked in New York, a place where individuality and creativity are elevated and honored. I’ve attended the Pride parade every year I could, but as only an “ally”, aching for the ability to celebrate, and feeling unworthy in my closeted-ness and straight-passing relationship. Bias and discrimination against the LGBTQ community is not new, nor is it yet solved by the increasing awareness, acceptance, and representation in our culture and media. The proliferation of social media as a tool for reporting both on oneself and our surroundings, and of consuming the news, often makes us question the authenticity of what we see. The unseen can be even more telling.

As a photographer, my job has been to help people literally be seen—first by me and a lens, and then by themselves and eventually others. Purposes vary, but no matter the end viewer, my work is about making people feel like themselves, in the best way, both during a shoot or in viewing a gallery. Staying true to my values in photography has resulted in some of the best images, and ultimately has helped the most people, making lasting impacts.

In my work in the technology world, the common thread of my roles was to use direct customer feedback to create solutions that address the true root cause of any issues, while contending with the realities of the environment. Execution required negotiation with outside vendors, advocating for resources and budget, but most importantly, providing cover for an overworked team of engineers to develop, while maintaining their own health and sanity. Simultaneously, I removed whichever hurdles I could for my clients and enabled them to meet their needs with the best tools I had: moral support, compassion, and understanding.

Going into social work is obviously quite the career change for me, but it is not without great thought. Once I realized this was the path I wanted to take, I submitted my job resignation. I am whole-heartedly striving to use my powers for good and make an impact on others’ lives, and I hope that in time, and with proper education, training, and resources, I can make myself into the best tool to do so.

I have always believed that solving our deepest and most basic social issues first will solve many of the rest of our tertiary problems, or symptoms rather, that seem to plague us. I’ve been told that my background in business, particularly product management, might lend itself best to policy and advocacy work. While I believe that the groups undervalued by society are shown so through policy and through culture, that environment is created by individuals. The individuals who need the most care right now are the ones who will change our world for the better and will lift each other up. Helping them is how I feel I can make the most impact.

Licensed Clinical Social Workers helped me overcome the hurdles that were holding me back from doing this work. Without those solved on an individual level, I wouldn’t be where I am, despite all my privilege, education, and access. This work has significant ripple effects.

I seek the education, training, and experience to work with individuals in a therapeutic setting and provide the space for others to be seen, heard, and known, to set the model for self-compassion that is needed in order to see yourself more clearly, to overcome one of the most difficult mental health obstacles we all have, which is truly and emphatically loving ourselves. I’d like to both provide and advocate for free or affordable mental health care, particularly for LGBTQ youth and adults, and work to dismantle the systems that create the need for it.

I hope to focus on becoming the best clinician I can through a combination of clinical courses and training, and to form a substantial foundation of policy and research courses to better understand and contend with the macro-level landscape. I was excited to learn that the curriculum and requirements have evolved to allow for this kind of shaping of my degree and I’m eager to see what I can do with my Master’s in Social Work.

After checking in at the doctor’s office, I had my vision tested. I learned that I now have 20/13 vision, which means I can see at 20 feet what most people can see at 13 feet (better than 20/20 vision). This is up from 20/15, eight months prior. In more ways than one, I’ve gained a certain clarity and have learned that there is nothing more valuable than seeing yourself and being seen. Going forward, the doctor will see me now, and so will the rest of the world.

References

Durso, L.E. & Meyer, I.H. Sexuality Research and Social Policy (2013) 10: 35. https://doi.org/10.1007/s13178-012-0105-2

Green, K. E., & Feinstein, B. A. (2012). Substance use in lesbian, gay, and bisexual populations: an update on empirical research and implications for treatment. Psychology of addictive behaviors : Journal of the Society of Psychologists in Addictive Behaviors, 26(2), 265–278. doi:10.1037/a0025424

Lori E. Ross, Travis Salway, Lesley A. Tarasoff, Jenna M. MacKay, Blake W. Hawkins & Charles P. Fehr (2018). Prevalence of Depression and Anxiety Among Bisexual People Compared to Gay, Lesbian, and Heterosexual Individuals: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis, The Journal of Sex Research, 55:4-5, 435-456, DOI: 10.1080/00224499.2017.1387755