βIβm a bi man. Married to a woman. Yes, that's one of the options!β
Comedian Steffan Alun on coming out as bisexual.
We all know how it’s meant to go. You’re a teenager, and you slowly realise there’s something different about you. One day, it hits you – you’re gay. You struggle with inner turmoil until, eventually, you come out to your best friend. Maybe you start a secret relationship with a classmate. Eventually, you come out to your parents.
That’s what it looks like when you come out, isn’t it? That’s what television tells us. But... the real world’s much more complicated than that.
This is how it went for me...
I was a teenager, slowly realising there was something different about me. One day, I wonder – am I gay? And I think... no. I’m a boy, and I’m definitely attracted to girls. Okay, cool. No need to stress out.
After leaving school, I met a girl that I liked, we eventually started a relationship, and now – fifteen years later – we’re married. Simple.
But then, a few years ago, it hit me – I’m bisexual. That explained all those weird feelings I’d had as a teenager. And, let’s be honest, the occasional crush on a handsome celebrity even today.
For a while, I didn’t bother telling anyone. What was the point? I was married – and very happy with my wife. Why would anyone care? Why should I even care?
But here’s the thing. Sexuality is an enormous facet of the human experience. It’s a huge part of our identities. Don’t we love gossiping about an attractive new colleague, or a sexy pop star? I realised that, for most of my life, I’d deliberately steered around discussions like that. I realised that, at some level, I’d always known I was attracted to men as well as women – and I didn’t want to be found out.
So, I started to gently tell people. My wife, my closest friends, my family... and every time I told someone, it felt like I’d been unchained. I could relax, and “be myself”. Nothing really changed – and yet, the knowledge that I was no longer lying by omission made me so much happier.
I think audiences enjoy hearing about a bisexual man whoβs happily married to a woman. This should be the most trivial, boring story in the world β but actually, we never hear these stories.
I’m a stand-up comedian. I’d already been performing for several years when I came out – gigging across Wales and the rest of the UK, and completing two full runs of solo shows at the Edinburgh Festival. I wondered whether I should remain closeted as a comedian. Would it be harder to find work as a bisexual performer?
In fact, the opposite happened. As I started to write about my experiences more truthfully than ever, audiences seemed to laugh harder than before, and promoters were much quicker to book me back.
My relationship with my wife is better than ever. She’s bisexual too, and I suspect this is a small part of the reason we’re so compatible. I think audiences enjoy hearing about a bisexual man who’s happily married to a woman. This should be the most trivial, boring story in the world – but actually, we never hear these stories.
Stand-up comedy is great at transforming normal, ordinary stories into huge bonding experiences for the crowds. I’d been so scared of homophobic reactions from audiences – but thankfully, for me, those reactions have been very rare.
The reactions from other gay and bisexual people has been incredible. I love it when people talk to me after gigs – especially when those people connected with my stories.
I’ve experienced some negativity, of course. A sly joke here, a cruel nickname there. But none of those things can ruin the happiness I’ve felt, being my true self – in real life and on stage.
The only thing I wish is that I’d come to this realisation years earlier. And hopefully, as the world learns more and more about gender and sexual minorities, the next generation of teenagers will get to experience this happiness sooner.