I didn’t “identify” at all, much less question my sexuality or my gender. At her age, I didn’t identify as at-least-bi, or maybe-straight. I came out as a lesbian my junior year of college, when I was nearly a decade older than my daughter is now. “I might be a totally different person today if I’d had a friend to talk with openly about my sexuality and desires at your age.” My daughter rolled her eyes at that point, because A) as an 11-year-old, she’s required to do so, and B) tweens don’t like when you emote or express sentiments that might embarrass them - aka, talk. “Wow, it must feel great for your friend to have someone to confide in about this,” I told her. Hashtag middle school, amIrite? But I also teared up a little. I think I just don’t like anyone at my school.” I don’t think I’m gay, but I’m not sure if I’m straight. Then I asked, Do you have any crushes? “Not really. “At least bi.” I practiced active listening. “She has a crush on this kid who was born a girl but who is now a boy, so she assumes she is …” she paused, searching for the right descriptor. “She doesn’t know what she is, but she assumes she is at least not straight,” my daughter reported. Earlier this year, my 11-year-old came home from school and told me that one of her sixth grade friends had come out to her.
