I am really struggling to find an appropriate opener here, but I think it best if I simply come out and say—I am bisexual.

Now that I’ve got the most obvious pun I could make out of the way, I should introduce myself. I am Frankie Nadal, the features editor for the Runner for Fall 2022. I am also a host of other titles, but for now, I would like to focus on my experiences as a bisexual man.

Well, I use ‘man’ in quite a relative sense. I use he/him pronouns, yes, but I most certainly do not meet many of the societal implications therein. Emphasis on ‘societal.’ Sure, I am big and strong, with a deep voice and a background in STEM. Couple that with my enjoyment of video games, and boom, typical ‘manly-man.’ But… that is not me.

I adore cooking. Baking. Arts and crafts. Cleaning. These are all things society often deems as stereotypically ‘feminine.’ I wear cardigans, have long hair that I am quite proud of, and, most importantly, I know myself.

I have been through my fair share of heartache and other tribulations, just like everybody else; however, everybody else is not me. Everyone experiences things differently, processes similar events differently. For example, when I discovered I was bisexual, it was not some monumental revelation that uprooted my entire sense of self. It was, quite literally, just an ‘oh’ moment. I was eight years old; I was in the library reading some long-forgotten book, and I simply realized I was bisexual.

This brings me to something I would very much like to clarify regarding bisexuality. I am not attracted to just men and women, no, for bisexuality is the attraction one feels towards genders similar to or opposite of one’s own. This includes those who are transgender or nonbinary or fluid or otherwise genderqueer. Yes, that sounds like pansexuality, but consider—pansexuality is the attraction to someone regardless of their gender identity.

That said, being bisexual has been… Well, it hasn’t been anything, really. I know, for a lot of people, exploring their sexual and/or gender identity is a massive undertaking, but for me, it simply is. Now, please do not misconstrue my experiences for that of an entire group. As a man, I most certainly have benefitted from the privilege inherent to that gender. I can say I am bisexual, and hardly anyone will bat an eye. I might even get ‘compliments’ about how ‘open’ I am or how I am a ‘player’ despite not dating anyone. Disgusting, but it could be worse.

Admittedly, it can be… demoralizing when an implicit part of who you are is often objectified and twisted into a rather carnal visage, especially when you are seen as little more than your identity. It becomes even worse when members of your community make that objectification.

All of this to say something someone much wiser and more eloquent than I could say quite aptly: While my experiences may not be unique, my reactions most certainly are. Realizing I am bisexual was only the beginning. I cannot control how others react to my orientation, nor can I manage what peculiarities they spew; however, what they think matters not.

For I am a multitude of happenstance with an infinitesimally small chance of existing in an indifferent universe so incomprehensibly vast that one can only marvel at all the wonders it contains. I am Frankie Nadal: a bisexual, Indigenous/Latine, gender-nonconforming man.

My bones are stardust, my muscles dreams, and my flesh a mystery.

I, quite simply, am me.